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THE  TRAGEDIES  OF  SENECA 


DOUBLE  BERMES  OF  SENECA  AND  SOCRATES 

Now  in  the  Old  Museum  at  Berlin 


& 


The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 


TRANSLATED   INTO   ENGLISH    VERSE,    TO    WHICH    HAVE    BEEN    APPENDED 

COMPARATIVE   ANALYSES   OF  THE   CORRESPONDING   GREEK 

AND    ROMAN   PLAYS,    AND   A    MYTHOLOGICAL   INDEX 

BY 

FRANK  JUSTUS  MILLER 


INTRODUCED     BY     AN     ESSAY    ON     THE     INFLUENCE     OK    THK    TRAGEDIES     OF    SENECA 
UPON      EARLY     ENGLISH     DRAMA 

BY 

JOHN  MATTHEWS  MANLY 


CHICAGO 
THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO  PR1 

LONDON 
T.  FISHER  UNWIN,  i  ADELPHI  TERRACE 

1907  / 

A  < 


pft 


Copyright  1907  By 
Thk  Umvkksity  of  Chicago 


Published  December  1907 


Composed  and  Printed  By 

The  University  of  Chicago  Press 

Chicago,  Illinois,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

FRANK  FROST  ABBOTT 

AND 

EDWARD    CAPPS 

MY     FRIENDS     AND     COLLEAGUES 

THROUGH      A     SCORE      OF     YEARS 


PREFACE 

The  place  of  the  tragedies  of  Seneca  in  literature  is  unique.  They 
stand  as  the  sole  surviving  representatives,  barring  a  few  fragments,  of  an 
extensive  Roman  product  in  the  tragic  drama.  They  therefore  serve  as 
the  only  connecting  link  between  ancient  and  modern  tragedy.  They  are, 
moreover,  modeled  more  or  less  closely  after  the  tragedies  of  Aeschylus, 
Sophocles,  and  Euripides;  and  the  Greek  and  Roman  product  in  literature 
along  parallel  lines  cannot  be  better  studied  than  by  a  comparison  of  these 
Senecan  plays  with  their  Greek  prototypes — a  comparison  which  is  not 
possible  in  comedy,  since,  unfortunately,  the  Greek  originals  of  Plautus 
and  Terence  have  not  come  down  to  us. 

These  plays  are  of  great  value  and  interest  in  themselves,  first,  as  inde- 
pendent dramatic  literature  of  no  small  merit;  and  second,  as  an  illustration 
of  the  literary  characteristics  of  the  age  of  Nero:  the  florid,  rhetorical  styleX 
the  long,  didactic  speeches,  the    tendency   to  philosophize,   the  frequent 
epigram,  the  pride  of  mythologic  lore. 

Popular  interest  in  the  tragedies  of  Seneca  has  been  growing  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  during  the  last  generation.  This  has  been  stimulated 
in  part  by  Leo's  excellent  text  edition,  and  by  the  researches  of  German 
and  English  scholars  into  Senecan  questions,  more  especially  into  the 
influence  of  Seneca  upon  the  pre-Elizabethan  drama;  in  part  also  by  the 
fact  that  courses  in  the  tragedies  have  been  regaining  their  place,  long 
lost,  in  college  curricula. 

The  present  edition  seeks  still  further  to  bring  Seneca  back  to  the 
notice  of  classical  scholars,  and  at  the  same  time  to  present  to  the  English 
reader  all  of  the  values  accruing  from  a  study  of  these  plays,  with  the  single 
exception  of  the  benefit  to  be  derived  from  a  reading  of  the  original. 
The  influence  which  the  tragedies  have  had  in  English  literature  is  brought 
out  in  the  introduction,  which  Professor  Manly  has  kindly  contributed; 
the  relation  of  Seneca  to  the  Greek  dramatists  is  shown  by  comparative 
analyses  of  the  corresponding  plays,  so  arranged  that  the  reader  may  easily 
observe  their  resemblances  and  differences;  the  wealth  of  mythological 
material  is  at  once  displayed  and  made  available  by  an  index  of  mythologi- 
cal characters;  finally,  it  is  hoped  that  the  translation  itself  will  prove  to 
be  as  faithful  a  reproduction  of  the  original  as  is  possible  in  a  translation, 

vii 


viii  Preface 

and  .it  the  same  time  bo  have  sufficient  literary  merit  of  its  own  to  claim 
tin-  interest  of  the  general  reader. 

The  text  used  is  that  of  Leo  (Weidmann,  Berlin,  1878),  except  in  the 
instances  noted.  The  line  numbers  as  printed  in  the  translation  are  iden- 
tieal  with  those  of  the  original  text.  The  meter  employed  in  the  spoken 
parts  is  the  English  blank  verse,  with  the  exception  of  the  Medea,  in  which 

the  experiment  was  tried,  not  altogether  successfully,  of  reproducing  the 
iambic  trimeter  of  the  original.  In  the  lyric  parts,  the  original  meters  are 
sometimes  used;  and,  where  these  did  not  seem  suitable  in  English,  appro- 
priate substitutes  have  been  attempted. 

Frank  Justus  Miller 
Chicago,  III. 
October  25,  1907 


TABLEjOF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.   The  Influence  of  the  Tragedies  of  Seneca  upon  Early 

English  Drama i 

II.  The  Tragedies  of  Seneca  Translated 

u^Oedipus         n  *S 

Phoenissae         51 


^*Medea 79  /• 

*s  Hercules  Furens 115 


;/ 

""^  Phaedra  or  Hippolytus 165 

yHercuIes  Oetaeus 213 

t/  JThyestes 287  <s 

ies        333 

Agamemnon 379 

■Octavia,  with  a  Review  of  the  Roman  Historical  Drama  415 

III.  Comparative  Analyses  of  Seneca's  Tragedies  and  the 

Corresponding  Greek  Dramas 453 

IV.  Mythological  Index        497 


IX 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 


THE   INFLUENT!-:   OF   THE   TRAGEDIES   OF  SENECA  UPON 
EARLY  ENGLISH  DRAMA 

To  appreciate  fully  the  nature  and  the  extent  of  the  influence  of  Seneca 
upon  English  tragedy  in  the  days  of  Shakespeare  and  his  immediate  prede- 
cessors, we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  public  theaters  were  not  the  only 
places  at  which  plays  were  then  produced.  At  the  universities,  at  the 
inns  of  court  (which  may  be  roughly  described  as  combinations  of  a  law 
school  and  a  very  exclusive  social  club),  and  at  the  Court  itself  plays  were 
an  important  feature  of  almost  every  festival.  Even  those  of  us  who  know 
these  facts  are  very  likely  to  fail  to  realize  the  full  meaning  of  them.  We 
are  likely  to  regard  the  non -professional  performances  as  having  no  more 
significance  for  the  history  of  the  drama  than  amateur  performances  at 
the  present  day  by  dramatic  clubs  and  college  societies.  We  are  apt  to 
forget  that,  in  the  spacious  days  of  great  Elizabeth,  learning,  especially 
classical  learning,  had  a  value,  an  importance,  a  dignity,  which  not  even 
the  most  academic  of  us  now  feels  it  to  have.  Our  generation,  busied 
above  all  things  with  making  a  living  or  with  accumulating  wealth,  regards 
the  scholar  as,  with  the  poet  and  the  artist,  the  most  unpractical  and  useless 
of  men  at  best,  tolerated  as  an  ornamental  creature  whom  society  can 
afford  to  keep  if  it  does  not  have  to  pay  him  more  than  it  pays  a  butler  or  a 
chauffeur.  To  the  men  of  the  Renaissance,  scholarship  and  the  scholar 
had  a  unique  and  inestimable  value.  Ordinary  business,  in  their  view, 
enabled  man  to  provide  a  living;  religion  taught  him  how  to  save  his  soul; 
scholarship,  the  knowledge  of  the  literature  and  life  of  the  Greeks  and  the 
Romans,  enabled  him  to  distinguish  his  life  as  a  man  from  that  of  a  beast, 
to  approach  as  nearly  as  possible  to  that  ideal  type  toward  which  they 
strove,  the  iiomo  universale,  the  perfect  gentleman,  complete  mash  r  of 
his  body,  of  his  mind,  of  his  passions.  To  men  of  these  views  and  this 
temper,  literature — first,  classical  literature  and  then  the  vernacular  litera- 
ture produced  under  the  stimulus  of  it — was  of  supreme  importance, 
and  the  drama  was  perhaps  the  most  important  form  of  literature.  The. 
value  of  literature  for  those  who  were  then  trying  to  transform  the  world, 
to  rebuild  it  and  thems<  !  rer  to  the  heart's  desire,  was  of  course  besti 

recognized  by  the  finest  spirits  of  the  age,  men  like  Erasmus,  Thomas 
More,  Walter  Rait  igh,  Edmund  Sjxmscr,  Philip  Sidney.  But  it  seems  to 
have  been  felt,  though  in  cruder  ways,  even  by  the  vulgar.     An  amusing 

3 


Tim     TRAGEDIES    Of    Sen ec a 


illustration  of  this  is  the  little  record  kepi  by  old  Simon  Forman,  a  noted 
mountebank  and  quark  doctor,  in  1610  and  161  1.  It  lias  preserved  for  us 
our  earliest  QOticeSOI  performances  of  Macbeth,  Cytnbelinr,  and  A  Winter's 
;  hut  this  is  accidental.  The  doctor's  intention  was  merely  to  note 
for  his  own  guidance  such  lessons  as  he  learned  from  the  plays  presented  on 
the  stage.  Such  benefits  were,  according  to  tin-  views  of  wiser  men,  to 
be  gained  chiefly  from  comedies;  tragedy,  and  classical  tragedy  in  par- 
ticular, had  a  finer,  a  more  permanent  value.  Tragedy  was  the  voice  of 
the  wisest  nun  of  the  world,  the  ancients,  upon  the  most  serious  themes  of 
human  life;  it  not  only,  as  Aristotle  had  said,  purified  the  mind  through 
pity  and  terror,  it  fortified  the  inner  life,  and  both  by  example  and  by 
sententious  maxim  prepared  man  to  meet  the  most  subtle  attacks  of  fate, 
the  temptations  of  success,  or  the  discouragements  of  failure.  Tragedy 
therefore  had  a  unique  value  for  the  Elizabethans,  and  the  performances 
of  classical  plays,  or  those  written  in  imitation  of  the  classics,  by  the  univer- 
sities or  the  inns  of  court,  did  not  fall  into  the  abyss  which  now  receives 
amateur  theatricals. 

Failure  to  take  account  of  the  value  attached  to  the  lessons  and  the 
examples  of  tragedy  may  perhaps  account  for  the  misunderstanding 
which  exists  so  widely,  even  among  scholars,  in  regard  to  the  first  tragedy 
in  English,  Gorboduc,  or  Ferrex  and  Porrex.  Everyone  knows  that  this 
was  written  in  direct  imitation  of  Seneca,  and  everyone  discusses  glibly 
its  Senecan  features,  the  bloody  theme,  the  division  into  five  acts,  the  use 
of  the  chorus,  the  removal  of  the  action  from  the  view  of  the  spectators, 
the  long  speeches;  but  critics  are,  without  exception,  offended  to  the  heart 
by  the  fifth  act,  and  especially  by  the  two  long  disquisitions  of  Arostus  and 
Eubulus.  It  is,  however,  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  play  exists  solely 
for  the  sake  of  these  speeches.  This  was  not  a  mere  academic  exercise.  It 
was  a  serious  attempt  by  some  of  the  most  thoughtful  men  of  England  to 
move  the  queen,  Elizabeth,  to  a  course  of  action  which  they  regarded  as 
absolutely  essential  to  the  welfare  of  the  realm.  Other  attempts  to  secure 
the  same  end  were  made  by  her  best  statesmen  throughout  the  reign.  The 
failure  of  this  effort  was  not  due  to  the  weakness  of  the  tragedy,  but,  like 
the  failure  of  all  the  rest,  to  some  feature  of  Elizabeth's  character  or 
some  circumstance  in  her  life  which  has  not  yet  been  fully  and  convincingly 
explained.  The  purpose  of  the  writers  is  clear.  They  wished  to  persuade 
Elizabeth  to  marry  and  settle  once  for  all  the  succession  to  the  throne  of 
England.  They,  in  common  with  all  thoughtful  and  patriotic  English- 
men, feared  the  horrors  of  an  unsettled  succession  or  a  divided  rule.     These 


Introductory    Essay 


they  tried  to  impress  upon  her  mind  and  heart  by  examples  drawn  from 
the  history  of  Gorboduc  and  his  sons,  and  by  maxims  and  exhortations 
presented  in  the  most  authoritative  form  known  to  them,  the  form  of 
Senecan  tragedy.  The  occasion  chosen  was  a  great  festival  given  by  the 
gentlemen  of  the  Inner  Temple,  one  of  the  most  important  and  influential 
of  the  inns  of  court  referred  to  above. 

Classical  tragedy  had,  then,  as  we  can  readily  see,  a  prestige  to  which! 
hardly  anything  in  literature  corresponds  at  the  present  day.  The  states- 
man who  should  today  wish  to  influence  his  sovereign  to  an  important 
course  of  action  would  doubtless  be  puzzled  to  find  any  form  of  literature — 
academic  or  unacademic — appropriate  to  the  task  in  dignity  and  authority.' 

It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  classical  tragedy,  the  tragedy  of  the 
schools  and  the  learned  societies,  must  be  taken  seriously  into  account  in 
estimating  the  forces  which  shaped  the  drama  of  the  popular  stage.  It  is 
true  that  the  English  tragedies  in  classical  or  Senecan  form  were  none  of 
them  written  for  the  public  stage.  It  is  even  probable  that  they  would 
not  have  been  successful  upon  it.  It  is  a  mistake  to  treat  them  historically 
and  critically,  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  direct  line  of  development  which 
resulted  in  Faustus  and  The  Spanish  Tragedy  and  Macbeth  and  Lear  and 
Othello.  But  none  the  less  the  influence  of  these  academic  plays  was  very 
real  and  very  important. 

The  ways  in  which  this  influence  was  exercised  may  be  noted,  as  having 
some  bearing  upon  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  influence.  In  the  first 
place,  there  was  in  the  early  days  no  very  rigid  line  between  the  academic 
and  the  popular  performers.  The  Children  of  the  Chapel  Royal  were  at 
one  time  the  leading  theatrical  company  in  London.  When  the  queen 
visited  Oxford  in  1566,  there  were  among  the  several  plays  presented  by 
the  university,  not  only  the  Latin  tragedy,  Progne,  of  Dr.  James  Calfhill, 
but  also  the  English  Palamon  and  Ar cite  of  Richard  Edwards,  Master  of  Her 
Majesty's  Children  and  the  most  popular  dramatist  of  his  day.  Edwards 
himself  trained  the  students  who  produced  his  play,  and  it  was  a  great 
success;  according  to  a  contemporary  report,  "certain  courtiers  said  that 
it  far  surpassed  Damon  and  Pythias,  than  which  they  thought  nothing  could 
be  better;  likewise  some  said  that  if  the  author  did  any  more  before  his 
death,  he  would  run  mad."  Any  impressions  made  upon  Edwards  by 
Dr.  Calfhill's  Progne  wcrr  doubtless  lost  to  art,  as  Edwards  died  before  the 
end  of  the  year;  but  this  was  probably  not  the  first  occasion  on  which  the 
Mister  of  the  Chapel  Children  had  visited  the  university  in  behalf  of  the 
drama,  and  Edwards  himself  had  Ix-en  both  a  scholar  and  a  probationary 


Tim     Tragedies    <>  v    Seneca 


fellow   there.      Certainly    his    famous    Damon    and    Pythias  shows   some 

evidences  of  the  influence  of  Seneca. 

It  is  well  known  also  that  the  most  successful  writers  for  the  public 

je  in  the  yean  just  preceding  Shakespeare's  advent,  the  years  that 
determined  the  form-  and  the  methods  of  the  popular  drama,  were  educated 
at  the  universities,  and,  however  clearly  they  may  have  recognized  the 
necessity  of  supplying  to  the  populace  story,  action,  the  raw  material  of 
life  and  philosophy,  cherished  as  an  ideal  the  Senecan  interest  in  situation, 
the  Senecan  love  for  broad  description,  for  introspection  and  reflection, 
for  elaborate  monologue,  and  catchy  sententiousness.  Such  were  Greene 
and  Peek  and  Marlowe;  and  Thomas  Kyd,  author  of  that  most  popular 
of  plays,  Tlw  Spanish  Tragedy,  and  probable  author  of  the  version  of 
//  :>n!rt  which  held  the  stage  for  fourteen  years  before  Shakespeare  revised 
it  and  gave  it  a  new  and  a  different  life,  though  not  bred  in  either  university, 
was  more  zealous  about  his  Latin  and  apparently  more  influenced  by 
S  Decs  than  the  university  men  themselves. 

But,  says  some  modern  classical  scholar,  granting  that  these  early 
dramatists  were  university  men  or  men,  like  Kyd  and  Shakespeare,  not 
trained  in  the  universities  but  all  the  more  zealous  to  match  their  produc- 
ti  >ns  with  those  which  bore  the  official  mark  of  classical  scholarship,  why 
i should  Seneca,  a  second-rate  Roman  tragedian,  be  continually  cited  in 
(connection  with  classical  influence  instead  of  Aeschylus  and  Sophocles  and 
Euripides,  the  supreme  masters  of  ancient  tragedy,  and  Aristotle,  the 
unique  expositor  of  the  theory  of  the  drama  ?  The  men  of  the  Renaissance 
(Would  have  had  a  ready  answer.     In  the  first  place,  they  knew  very  little 

it  the  Greek  tragedians,  or,  for  that  matter,  about  Greek  literature 
In  general ;  for  although  the  rediscovery  of  Greek  literature  was  undoubtedly 
one  of  the  events  of  that  remarkable  spurt  of  the  human  intellect  and 

Spirit  which  we  call  the  Renaissance,  Greek  literature  and  life  were,  after 
11,  in  every  country  of  Europe,  far  less  important  than  Latin,  as  models  for 
imitation,  as  sources  of  inspiration,  as  objects  which  engaged  the  attention 
of  the  moderns  and  set  the  pace  which  they  tried  to  follow.  As  for  tragedy, 
a  few  scholars  in  Italy  and  France  and  Germany  and  England  knew 
Sophocles  and  Euripides — Aeschylus  was  almost  unknown — but  the  theory 
and  the  practice  of  tragedy  among  the  classicists  were  based  almost  exclu- 
sively upon  the  example  of  Seneca  and  the  precepts  of  Horace.  Aristotle 
is,  indeed,  often  cited  as  the  ultimate  authority,  but,  although  the  voice 
may  be  the  voice  of  Aristotle,  the  opinions  are  usually  those  of  Scaliger  or 
Minturno  or  Robortelli  or  Castelvetro,  opinions  which  reduced  to  in  viol- 


Introductory    Essay 


able  laws  what  Aristotle  had  merely  stated  as  observed  practices,  and  which 
supplemented  these  rules  by  others  drawn  from  the  plays  of  Seneca,  who 
was,  according  to  these  critics,  the  most  majestic,  the  most  tragic,  the  most 
perfect  of  the  ancient  tragedians.  That  Seneca's  majesty  seems  to  critics 
of  today  bombast,  that  his  triumph  in  tragic  quality  consists  in  an  accumu- 1 
lation  of  horrors  and  a  consistently  unfortunate  ending,  that  his  perfection! 
of  form  is  no  more  than  a  formal  schematism,  clear  because  it  is  simple  and 
lifeless  — all  this  may  be  true  but  is  beside  the  mark.  To  the  best  spirits 
of  the  Renaissance,  whether  critical  or  creative,  the  ten  tragedies  which 
bore  the  name  of  Seneca  presented  the  ideal  of  tragic  art  toward  which] 
m  idem  writers  should  strive  if  they  would  be  perfect. 

What,  then,  was  the  influence  of  Seneca  in  England?  Two  excellent 
Studies  of  different  phases  of  it  have  been  published,  both,  unfortunately, 
less  known  than  they  should  be. 

The  purely  formal  influence,  the  influence  upon  dramatic  technique' 
and  upon  composition  in  the  large  sense  of  the  term,  is  the  subject  of  Rudolf ) 
Fischer's  Die  Kunslentwicklung  der  englischen  Tragodie,  perhaps  the  most 
in  4  aious  and  adequate  scheme  ever  devised  for  the  analysis  of  the  technical 
and  compositional  features  of  any  form  of  art.     Fischer  sees  in  the  history 
of  English  tragedy  before  Shakespeare  a  steady  approximation  to  the  Sene- 
can  type.     His  argument  is  open  to  several  objections.     In  the  first  place, 
he  treats  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  same  simple  line  of  development  plays 
written  for  the  public  stage  and  the  popular  taste  and  those  written  for 
special  audiences  dominated  by  scholastic  ideals.     In  the  second  place,  as 
Professor  Luick  has  pointed  out,  he  has  disregarded  the  influence  exercised 
by  the  original  form  of  the  story  dramatized  upon  the  dramatic  presentation 
of  it.     And,  furthermore,  he,  in  common  with  other  students  of  the  subject, 
has  proceeded  upon  the  assumption  that  only  tragedy  could  have  had  any 
influence  upon  tragedy.     He  has  neglected  that  remark  of  Ben  Jonson's, » 
which  phrases  the  view  not  of  his  own  time  only  but  of  all  ages,  "The  parts  ) 
of  a  comedy  are  the  same  with  a  tragedy,"  and  has  failed  to  see  that  for  j 
the  structure  of  English  tragedy,  Roman  comedy  and  the  serious  imitations 
of  it  by  the  men  of  the  Renaissance — such  as  Gnapheus'  Acolastus,  Mac- 
ropedius'  Asotus  and  Rebelles,  and  their  anonymous  English  offspring, 
The  Nice  IFa»/o«— are  no  less  important  than  the  example   of   Seneca 
himself.     But  his  book  is  interesting  and  enlightening  as  few  books  on  any 
subject  are. 

Entirely  different  problems  are  dealt  with  in  J.  W.  Cunliffe's  little 
volume  on  The  Influence  of  Seneca  on  Elizabethan  Tragedy,  a  book  which, 


8  The    Tkaobdies    <>  k    Seneca 

to  the  regret  of  many  scholars,  has  long  been  oul  of  print,  and  which 
the  author  ought  to  reprint  with  Buch  additions  as  his  continued  study  of 
the  subject  may  suggest.  Mr.  Cunliffe  ismainh  concerned  with  showing 
why  Seneca  appealed  to  the  Elizabethans  and  with  pointing  out  certain 

details  of  theme,  of  situation,  of  theatrical  effects,  and  of  expression,  which 
the   popular  playwrights  owed  to  Seneca. 

To  SeneCS  and  the  false  Aristotle  created  by  the  humanists  from  the 
Potties,  the  precepts  of  Horace,  the  definitions  and  maxims  which  sifted 
d  >wn  through  the  encyclopaedists  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  example 
of  -  .  not  only  the  men  of  the  Renaissance  but  even  we  of  today  owe 

n  •  of  our  most  cherished  ideas  concerning  tragedy.  First  of  all,  perhaps, 
is  the  belief  that  tragedy  must  end  unhappily.  The  Greeks — whether 
creators  or  critics  —had  no  such  theory.  It  was  enough  for  Sophocles  and 
Aristotle  that  tragedy  should  be  serious  in  theme  and  dignified  in  characters 
and  in  language.  In  the  second  place,  we  ordinarily  believe  that  a  tragedy 
should  have  five  acts,  and  many  of  us  can  draw  a  diagram  to  prove  it. 
Shakespeare  and  his  fellows  seem  to  have  been  dominated  by  the  same 
theory,  difficult  as  they  sometimes  found  it  to  observe.  The  sacred  unities, 
dominant  so  long  in  Italian  and  French  tragedy,  though  never  observed 
in  any  English  play  more  notable  than  Addison's  Cato,  we  have  learned  to 
disregard  and  even  to  decry,  though  such  an  attitude  in  the  Elizabethan 
age  awakened  the  censure  of  Philip  Sidney  and  doubtless  required  some 
hardihood  or  even  recklessness.  The  chorus  also  we  have  long  since 
abandoned,  but  Greene  and  Peele  and  Kyd  and  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare  \ 
and  others  of  their  time  used  it  more  than  once  and  with  good  effect.  They 
.  even,  in  some  instances,  combined  with  it  the  ghosts  and  infernal  spirits, 
which  beyond  a  doubt  they  owed  to  Seneca,  and  made  this  unearthly  chorus, 
not  only  the  commentator,  but  in  some  sense  the  subtle  director  of  the  action. 
Perhaps  the  most  refined  form  of  this  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet, 
who,  though  he  does  not  appear  technically  as  Chorus,  yet  recalls  by  his 
original  incitement  of  the  action  and  his  later  intervention  to  renew  and 
'direct  it,  as  well  as  by  his  language  and  his  attitude,  the  ghosts  of  Tantalus, 
Thyestes,  Laius,  and  Agrippina  in  Seneca,  and  the  spirits  of  Andrea  and 
Revenge  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy.  It  is  perhaps  not  going  too  far  to  find 
in  the  dream-setting  of  Hauptmann's  Elga  some  reminiscence  of  Shake- 
speare's Taming  oj  the  Shrew  and  Greene's  James  IV,  and  consequently, 
in  a  remote  sense,  of  Seneca's  introductory  figures,  Tantalus,  Thyestes,  and 
the  rest. 

But  these  matters  and  the  striking  resemblances  in  situation  and  in 


Introductory    Essay 


utterance  cited  so  abundantly  by  Cunliffe  and  by  Munroe  (Journal  of 
Philology,  Vol.  VI,  pp.  70-79),  though  they  could  be  increased  by  many  pas- 
sages in  Macbeth  and  King  Lear  as  well  as  in  the  plays  of  other  dramatists 
than  Shakespeare,  are  after  all  not  fundamental.  Some  other  features 
that  seem  fundamental  may  be  noted. 

In  the  first  place,  although  it  is  doubtless  true  that  the  scanty  scenery' 
of  the  Elizabethan  stage  is  largely  the  excuse  and  the  reason  for  the  long 
descriptive  passages  with  which  the  dramatists  of  that  time  delighted 
themselves  and  delight  us,  their  modern  readers,  this  is  perhaps  not  the 
whole  of  the  story.  There  are  passages  of  exposition,  of  reflection,  of  pure  / 
declamation,  equally  long  as  well  as  equally  beautiful.  The  Renaissance 
love  of  talk,  of  fine  language,  of  eloqitcntia,  may  explain  this  in  part;  but 
it  is  doubtless  due  in  part  also  to  the  example  of  Seneca,  who  never  loses  an 
opportunity  for  a  long  passage  of  description  or  introspection  or  reflection 
or  mere  declamation — making  them  indeed  for  the  Chorus  when  the  situa- 
tion does  not  allow  them  to  the  ordinary  dramatis  personae. 

Then  we  may  note  that  the  thoroughly  melodramatic  character  of 
Elizabethan  tragedy  is  a  natural  inheritance  from  Seneca.     Greek  tragedy 
had,  to  be  sure,  many  melodramatic  situations,  along  with  others  of  a 
milder  type.     But  the  religious  element  in  the  tragedy  of  Aeschylus  and 
Sophocles  radically  modifies  the  character  and  tone  of  the  most  poignant, 
and  repulsive  themes  and  situations.     When  Seneca  took  the  most  difficult 
of  Greek  themes  and,  following  the  lead  of  Euripides,  cast  away  the  over- 
ruling, compulsive  dominance  of  the  Greek  theocracy,  he  produced  melo- 
drama.    Most  moderns  have  been  either  content  to  follow  him  or  compelled 
to  do  so  for  lack  of  the  ability  to  create  striking  situations  without  the  aid 
of  villains  of  melodramatic  criminality.     A  few  of  the  French  tragedians 
have  had  recourse  to  the  method  of  the  Greeks  either  by  reviving  the  Greek 
mythology  and  theocracy  or  by  resorting  to  Hebrew  history  for  characters 
whose  deeds,  however  criminal,  were  necessary  parts  of  a  divine  plan. 
Shakespeare,  almost  alone,  has  at  his  best  succeeded  in  substituting  for  the  ' 
gods  and  fate  the  inevitable  results  of  human  character  and  the  moral  law,  i 
in  presenting  the  worst  deeds  of  his  leading  figures  as  less  the  results  of 
free  intention  than  of  futile  efforts  to  deliver  themselves  from  the  web  of 
circumstance  which  their  first  crimes  or  follies  have  woven  about  them — 
the  whole  career  of  Macl>eth,  for  example,  being  the  necessary  outcome  of 
his  attempt  to  get  free  of  tin-  difficulties  and  dangers  brought  upon  him  by 
the  murder  of  Duncan. 

Speculation  as  to  what  the  English  drama  might  have  been  if  Sophocles 


io  The    T&A0BDIS8    of    Seneca 

Instead  of  Seneca  had  been  its  inspiration  and  its  model  is  idle.  The  men 
of  the  Renaissance  did  ool  understand  Sophocles;  his  stage,  the  mode  of 
production  of  his  plays,  his  aim,  the  whole  nature  of  his  art,  were  beyond 
the  scholarship  of  their  day.  And  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  could  in  any 
event  have  made  so  successful  a  combination  of  the  Greek  and  the  national 
or  mediaeval  drama  as  they  made  of  Senec  an  tragedy  and  the  dramatic 
forms  tluv  already  possessed. 

In  one  thing,  at  any  rate,  the  English  drama  was  especially  fortunate, 
that  is,  in  the  fact  that  its  form  and  its  content  were  so  largely  determined 
by  two  such  remarkable  men  as  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare.  The  condi- 
tions in  France  in  the  sixteenth  century  were  strikingly  similar  to  those  in 
England,  except  for  the  number  of  public  theaters.  M.  Petit  de  Julleville 
points  out  that  France  as  well  as  England  possessed  every  item  of  the  motley 
list  of  dramatic  types  enumerated  by  Polonius;  and  he  continues:  "Rien 
n'emj)echait  alors  qu'un  Shakespeare  naquit  en  France;  les  circonstances 
n'etaient-clles  pas  merveilleusement  favorables  ?  Mais,  en  depit  de  cer- 
taines  theories,  les  grands  hommes  ne  paraissent  pas  tout  juste  au  moment 
ou  ils  sont  necessaires.  II  nous  fallait  un  Shakespeare;  il  naquit  un 
Alexandre  Hardy!" 


OEDIPUS 


OEDIPUS 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE 

Oedipus  .  .  King  of  Thebes;  the  son,  as  he  supposed,  of  Polybus, 
king  of  Corinth,  and  Merope,  his  wife,  but  found  to  be 
the  son  of  Laius  and  Jocasta. 

Jocasta  .  .  .  Wife  and,  as  the  play  develops,  found  to  be  also  the  mother 
of  Oedipus. 

Creon  ....  A  Theban  prince,  brother  of  Jocasta. 

Tiresias .  .  .  A  celebrated  prophet  of  Thebes,  now  old  and  blind. 

Manto    .  .  .  His  daughter. 

Old  Man  .  .  Sent  from   Corinth   to  announce  to  Oedipus  the  death  of 

Polybus. 
Phorbas  .  .  .  Head-shepherd  of  the  royal  flocks  of  Thebes. 
Messenger.  .  Who  announces  the  self-inflicted  blindness  of  Oedipus  and 

the  suicide  of  Jocasta. 
Chorus   ...  Of  Theban  elders. 


The  scene  is  laid  before  the  royal  palace  of  Thebes;   the  play  opens] 
in  the  early  morning  of  the  day  within  which  the  tragedy  is  consummated.  T 


An  orade  once  came  to  Lotus,  king  of  Thebes,  that  he  should  perish 
by  his  own  son's  hands.  When,  therefore,  a  son  was  born  to  hint,  he  gave 
the  infant  to  his  chief  oj  shepherds  to  expose  on  Mount  Cilhaeron.  But 
the  tenderhearted  rustic  gave  the  babe  instead  to  a  wandering  herdsman  oj 
Polybus,  the  king  oj  Corinth. 

rs  later,  a  reputed  son  of  Polybus,  Oedipus  by  name,  jearing  an 
oraele  which  doomed  him  to  slay  his  father  and  wed  his  mother,  fled  jrom 
(.  'orinth,  that  so  he  might  escape  this  dreadful  jate.  As  he  jarcd  northward, 
lie  met  and  slew  an  old  man  who  imperiously  disputed  the  narrow  way  with 
him.  L'pon  arriving  at  the  7'heban  land,  he  read  the  riddle  oj  the  Sphinx, 
and  SO  destroyed  th  it  monster  which  Juno  had  sent  to  harass  the  land  which 
she  hated:  and  jor  this  service,  Oedipus  was  made  the  husband  oj  Jocasta, 
the  widowed  queen  of  Lotus  (who  had  recently  been  slain  upon  the  road), 
and  set  upon  the  vacant  throne. 

Now  other  years  have  passed,  and  sons  and  daughters  have  been  born 
to  the  royal  pair.  But  now  a  dreadful  pestilence  afflicts  the  state.  Oedipus 
has  sent  C  'reon  to  consult  the  oracle,  to  learn  the  cause  and  seek  the  means 
of  deliverance  from  the  scourge.  And  while  he  wails  his  messenger's  return, 
the  murky  dawn  still  finds  him  gria'ing  for  his  kingdom's  wretched  plight. 


( )edipus: 


ACT  I 

Now  night  has  fled;   and  with  a  wavering  gleam 

Returns  the  sun;   all  wrapped  in  murky  clouds 

His  beams  arise,  and  with  their  baleful  light 

Shall  soon  look  forth  upon  our  stricken  homes, 

And  day  reveal  the  havoc  of  the  night.  5 

Oh,  who  in  all  this  realm  is  glad?     O  fate, 

That  seemest  good,  how  many  ills  lie  hid 

Behind  thy  smiling  face!     As  lofty  peaks 

[osl  feel  the  winds'  abuse;  and  as  the  cliff, 
That  with  its  rocky  front  divides  the  deep, 
The  waves  of  e'en  a  quiet  sea  assail;  10 

Si  i  is  the  loftiest  power  the  most  exposed 
To  hostile  fate's  assaults. 

'Twas  well  conceived 
That  I  should  flee  the  kingdom  of  my  sire, 
Old  Polybus,  and  from  my  fears  be  freed, 
A  homeless  exile,  dauntless,  wandering. 
Be  heaven  and  all  the  gods  my  witnesses, 
I  chanced  upon  this  realm.     Yet  even  now 
The  dreadful  fear  remains  that  by  my  hand  15 

My  sin-  shall  die.     Thus  spoke  the  Delphic  god. 
And  still  another,  greater  sin  he  showed. 
And  can  there  be  a  blacker  crime  than  this, 
A  father  slain  ?     Oh,  cursed  impiety! 
'Twere  shame  to  tell  the  hideous  oracle: 

For  Phoebus  warned  me  of  my  father's  couch,  20 

And  impious  wedlock.     'Twas  the  fear  of  this 

That  drove  me  headlong  from  my  father's  realm, 

And  for  no  sin  I  left  my  native  land. 

All  self-distrustful  did  I  well  secure 

Thy  sacud  laws,  0  mother  Nature;   still,  25 

When  in  the  heart  a  mighty  dread  abides, 

Though  well  assured  it  cannot  lx'  fulfilled, 

The  fear  remains.    I  fear  exceedingly, 

Nor  can  I  trust  myself  unto  myself. 

IS 


i6 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


And  even  now  the  Gates  are  aimed  at  me. 

I  or  what  am  I  to  think,  when  this  fell  pest, 
Although  it  lays  its  blighting  hand  on  all,  3° 

Spans  me  al.nc?     For  what  m-w  horror  now 
Am  I  reserved  ?     Amidst  my  city's  woes, 
'Mid  funeral  pyres  thai  ever  must  be  wet 
With  tears  of  grief  afresh,  'mid  heaps  of  slain, 
I  stand  unscathed.     Ami  couldst  thou  hope  that  thou, 
A  culprit  at  the  bar  of  God,  shouldst  gain  35 

For  guilt  a  wholesome  kingdom  in  return? 
\  iv,  rather,  I  myself  infect  the  air. 
For  now  no  breeze  with  its  soft  breath  relieves 
Our  spirits  suffocating  with  the  heat; 
No  gentle  zephyrs  breathe  upon  the  land; 
But  Titan  with  the  dog-star's  scorching  fires 
Doth  parch  us,  pressing  hard  upon  the  back 
Of  Nemea's  lion.     From  their  wonted  streams 
The  waters  all  have  fled,  and  from  the  herbs 
Their  accustomed  green.     Now  Dirce's  fount  is  dry; 
While  to  a  trickling  rill  Ismenus'  flood 
Hath  shrunk,  and  barely  laves  the  naked  sands. 
Athwart  the  sky  doth  Phoebus'  sister  glide 
With  paling  light,  and,  'mid  the  lowering  clouds,  45 

The  darkling  heavens  fade.     No  starlight  gleams 
„  Amid  the  gloomy  silence  of  the  night, 
But  heavy  mists  brood  low  upon  the  earth; 
And  those  bright  mansions  of  the  heavenly  gods 
Are  sicklied  over  with  the  hues  of  hell. 
The  full-grown  harvest  doth  withhold  its  fruit; 
And,  though  the  yellow  fields  stand  thick  with  corn,  50 

Upon  the  stalk  the  shriveled  grain  is  dead. 
No  class  is  free  from  this  destructive  plague, 
But  every  age  and  sex  falls  equally; 
Where  youth  with  age,  and  sire  with  son  are  joined, 
And  wife  and  husband  are  together  burned.  55 

Now  funerals  claim  no  more  their  wonted  grief; 
The  magnitude  of  woe  hath  dried  our  eyes; 
And  tears,  the  last  resource  of  woeful  hearts, 
Have  perished  utterly.     The  stricken  sire 


40 


Oedipus  17 

Here  bears  his  son  unto  the  funeral  flames;  60 

And  there  the  mother  lays  her  dead  child  down, 

And  hastes  to  bring  another  to  the  pyre. 

Nay,  in  the  midst  of  grief  a  new  woe  springs; 

For,  while  they  minister  unto  the  dead, 

Themselves  need  funeral  rites.     Anon  they  burn 

With  others'  fires  the  bodies  of  their  friends. 

The  fire  is  stol'n,  for  in  their  wretchedness  65 

No  shame  remains.     No  separate  tombs  receive 

The  hallowed  bones;  mere  burning  is  enough. 

How  small  a  covering  their  ashes  need ! 

And  yet  the  land  does  not  suffice  for  all; 

And  now  the  very  woods  have  failed  the  pyre. 

Nor  prayers  nor  skill  avail  to  serve  the  sick, 

For  even  they  who  own  the  healing  art 

Are  smitten  down.     The  baleful  pestilence 

Removes  the  check  that  would  restrain  its  force.  70 

So,  prostrate  at  the  altar,  do  I  fall 
And,  stretching  suppliant  hands,  I  pray  the  gods 
To  grant  a  speedy  end;  that  in  my  death 
I  may  anticipate  my  falling  throne, 
Nor  be  myself  the  last  of  all  to  die, 
The  sole  surviving  remnant  of  my  realm. 
O  gods  of  heaven,  too  hard !     O  heavy  fate !  75 

Is  death  to  be  denied  to  me  alone, 
So  easy  for  all  else  ?     Come,  fly  the  land 
Thy  baleful  touch  has  tainted.     Leave  thou  here 
The  grief,  the  death,  the  pestilential  air, 
Which  with  thyself  thou  bring'st.     Go  speed  thy  flight 
To  any  land,  e'en  to  thy  parents'  realm.  80 

Jocasta  [who  has  entered  in  time  to  hear  her  husband's  last  words]:  What 

boots  it,  husband,  to  augment  thy  woes 
With  lamentations  ?     For  I  think,  indeed, 
(This  very  thing  is  regal,  to  endure 
(Adversity,  and  all  the  mure  to  stand. 
With  heart  more  valiant  and  with  foot  more  sure, 
When  the  weight  of  empire  totters  to  its  fall.  85 

For  'tis  not  manly  to  present  thy  back 
To  fortunes's  darts. 


,  8  Til  E     T  r"a  G  i    i'  i  i   s     OP     S  k"n  E  C  A 


Oedipus:  N"'  llliiu'  ,,H'  .^uil1  ()f  fr;ir; 

M\  valor  lids  no  such  Ignoble  throes. 

Should  swords  be  drawn  againsl  me,  should  the  jxjwer, 

Tlir  dreadfu]  power  of  Mars  upon  me  rush,  9° 

Against  the  wry  giants  would  I  stand. 

The  Sphinx  I  fled  not  when  she  wove  her  words 

In  mystic  measures,  but  I  bore  to  look 

Upon  the  bloody  jaws  of  that  fell  bard, 

And  on  the  ground,  all  white  with  scattered  bones. 

But  wlnn,  from  a  lofty  cliff,  with  threatening  mien,  95 

The  baleful  creature  poised  her  wings  to  strike, 

And,  like  a  savage  lion,  lashed  her  tail,1 

In  act  to  spring;   still  did  I  dare  my  fate 

And  ask  her  riddle.     Then  with  horrid  sound 

Of  deadly  jaws  together  crashed,  she  spake; 

The  while  her  claws,  impatient  of  delay, 

And  eager  for  my  vitals,  rent  the  rock.  too 

But  the  close-wrought  words  of  fate  with  guile  entwined, 

Arid  that  dark  riddle  of  the  wingt'd  beast 

Did  I  resolve. 
Jocasta:  What  meant'st  then  thou  by  these 

Thy  maddened  prayers  for  death  ?     Thou  mightst  have  died. 

But  no;  the  very  scepter  in  thy  hand 

Is  thy  reward  for  that  fell  Sphinx  destroyed.  105 

Oedipus:     Yea  that,  the  artful  monster's  cruel  shade, 

Doth  war  against  me  still.     Now  she  alone, 

In  vengeance  for  her  death,  is  wasting  Thebes. 

But  now,  one  only  way  of  safety  still  is  left, 

If  Phoebus  show  us  not  of  safety  all  bereft. 

[Enter  the  Chorus  of  Theban  elders,  deploring  the  violence  0} 

the  plague.] 
Chorus:  How  art  thou  fall'n,  O  glorious  stock  no 

Of  Cadmus,  thou  and  Thebes  in  one ! 
How  dost  thou  see,  poor  ruined  Thebes, 
Thy  lands  laid  waste  and  tenantless. 
And  thou,  O  Theban  Bacchus,  hear: 
That  hardy  soldiery  of  thine, 

'  Reading,  caudam 


Oedipus  19 


Thy  comrades  to  the  farthest  Ind, 

Who  dared  invade  the  Eastern  plains,  115 

And  plant  thy  banners  at  the  gates  of  dawn — 
Behold,  destruction  feeds  on  them. 
They  saw  the  blessed  Arabes, 
'Mid  spicy  groves;  and  the  fleeing  steeds 
Of  the  Parthian,  deadliest  when  he  flees; 
They  trod  the  marge  of  the  ruddy  sea,  120 

Where  Phoebus  his  rising  beams  displays, 
And  the  day  reveals;   where  his  nearer  fires 
Darken  the  naked  Indians. 
Yea  we,  that  race  invincible, 

Beneath  the  hand  of  greedy  fate  125 

Are  falling  fast. 
The  gloomy  retinue  of  death 
In  march  unceasing  hurries  on; 
The  grieving  line  unending  hastes 
_To  the  place  of  death.     Space  fails  the  throng. 
/  For,  though  seven  gates  stand  open  wide,  130 

Still  for  the  crowding  funerals 
'Tis  not  enough ;  for  everywhere 
Is  carnage  seen,  and  death  treads  hard 
Upon  the  heels  of  death. 
The  sluggish  ewes  first  felt  the  blight, 
For  the  woolly  flock  the  rich  grass  cropped 
To  its  own  doom.     At  the  victim's  neck  135 

The  priest  stood  still,  in  act  to  strike; 
But  while  his  hand  still  jxnsed  the  blow, 
Behold,  the  bull,  with  gilded  horns, 
Fell  heavily;   whereat  his  neck, 
Beneath  the  shock  of  his  huge  weight, 
Was  broken  and  asunder  yawned. 

No  blood  the  sacred  weapon  stained,  140 

But  from  the  wound  dark  gore  oozed  forth. 
The  steed  a  sudden  languor  feels, 
And  stumbles  in  his  circling  course, 
While  from  his  downward-sinking  side 
His  rider  falls. 
The  abandoned  flocks  lie  in  the  fields;  145 


20 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


The  bull  amid  his  dying  herd 
I-  pining;  and  the  Bhepherd  fails 
Hi-,  s.  .miy  Bock,  fox  he  himself 
'Mid  his  vrasting  kine  is  perishing. 
The  stag  ao  more  fears  the  rave-nous  wolf; 
V'  longer  the  lion's  roar  is  heard;  150 

The  shaggy  bear  has  lost  her  rage, 
And  the  lurking  serpent  his  deadly  sling; 
For  parched  and  dying  now  he  lies, 
With  venom  dried. 

\'o  more  do  the  woods,  with  leafage  crowned, 
Spread  out  their  shade  in  the  mountain  glens;  155 

No  more  are  fields  with  verdure  clad; 
No  vines  bend  low  with  laden  arms; 
For  the  very  earth  has  felt  the  breath 
Of  our  dire  pestilence. 

Through  the  riven  bars  of  Erebus,  160 

With  torches  lit  in  Tartara, 
The  raging  band  of  the  Furies  troop; 
Dark  Phlegethon  has  changed  his  course, 
And  forced  the  waters  of  the  Styx 
To  mingle  with  our  Theban  streams. 
[^Grim  Death  opes  wide  his  greedy  jaws,  165 

And  all  his  baleful  wings  outspreads. 
And  he  who  plies  that  swollen  stream 
In  his  roomy  skiff,  though  his  age  is  fresh 
And  hardy,  scarce  can  raise  his  arms, 
O'erwearicd  with  his  constant  toil 

And  the  passage  of  the  endless  throng.  170 

'Tis  even  rumored  that  the  dog 
Hath  burst  the  chains  of  Taenara, 
And  through  our  fields  is  wandering. 
Now  dreadful  prodigies  appear: 
The  earth  gives  out  a  rumbling  sound, 
And  ghosts  go  stealing  through  the  groves, 
Larger  than  mortal  forms;   and  twice  175 

The  trees  of  our  Cadmean  woods 
Have  trembled  sore  and  shed  their  snows; 
Twice  Dirce  flowed  with  streams  of  blood; 


Oedipus  21 


And  in  the  stilly  night  we  heard 

The  baying  of  Amphion's  hounds. 

Oh,  cruel,  strange  new  form  of  death,  180 

And  worse  than  death !     The  sluggish  limbs 

Arc  with  a  weary  languor  seized; 

The  sickly  cheek  with  fever  burns, 

And  all  the  head  with  loathsome  sores 

Is  blotched.     Now  heated  vapors  rise 

And  scorch  with  fever's  flames  the  brain 

Within  the  body's  citadel, 

And  the  throbbing  temples  swell  with  blood.  185 

The  eyeballs  start;   the  accursed  fire 

Devours  the  limbs;    the  cars  resound, 

And  from  the  nostrils  dark  blood  drips 

And  strains  apart  the  swelling  veins.  190 

Now  quick  convulsions  rend  and  tear 

The  inmost  vitals. 

Now  to  their  burning  hearts  they  strain 

Cold  stones  to  soothe  their  agony; 

And  they,  whom  laxer  care  permits, 

Since  they  who  should  control  are  dead, 

The  fountains  seek,  and  feed  their  thirst  195 

With  copious  draughts.     The  smitten  throng 

All  prostrate  at  the  altars  lie 

And  pray  for  death;   and  this  alone 

The  gods,  compliant,  grant  to  them. 

Men  seek  the  sacred  fanes,  and  pray, 

Not  that  the  gods  may  be  appeased, 

But  glutted  with  their  feast  of  death.  200 

[Creon  is  seen  approaching.] 
But  who  with  hasty  step  the  palace  seeks  ? 
Is  this  our  Creon,  high  in  birth  and  deed, 
Or  does  my  sickened  soul  see  false  for  true  ? 
'Tis  Creon 's  self,  in  answer  to  our  prayer.  205 

ACT  II 

[Enter  Creon.] 
Oedipus:     I  quake  with  horror,  and  I  fear  to  know 
The  tendency  of  fate.     My  trembling  soul 
Strives  'neath  a  double  load;   for  joy  and  grief 


2  a 


The    Trace  i>ii:s    or    Seneca 


( 'rri'ii: 

ipus: 

(  ><•<>;/; 
( )edipus: 
Creon: 


Lie  mingled  still  in  dark  obscurity. 

I  .shrink  from  knowing  what  1  long  to  know. 
Wherefore,  <>  brother  of  my  consort,  speak; 
And  if  to  weary  hearts  thou  bring'sl  relief, 
With  quickened  utterance  thy  news  proclaim. 

In  dark  obscurity  the  answer  lies. 

Who  gives  me  doubtful  succor  grants  mc  none. 

It  is  the  custom  of  the  Delphic  god 

In  dark  enigmas  to  conceal  the  fates. 

Yet  speak;  however  dark  the  riddle  be 

"I'is  given  to  Oedipus  alone  to  solve. 

Apollo  doth  ordain  that  banishment 

Be  meted  out  to  him  who  slew  our  king, 

And  so  our  murdered  Laius  be  avenged; 

For  only  thus  shall  we  again  behold 

The  day's  clear  light,  and  drink  safe  draughts  of  air. 

Who  was  the  slayer  of  the  noble  king  ? 

Tell  who  is  designated  by  the  god, 

That  he  th'  allotted  punishment  may  pay. 

May  it  be  granted  me  to  tell  the  things 

To  sight  and  hearing  dreadful.     At  the  thought, 

Xumb  horror  holds  my  limbs,  my  blood  runs  cold. 

When  to  Apollo's  hallowed  shrine  I  came 

With  reverent  feet,  and  pious  hands  upraise*!, 

Parnassus'  double-crested,  snowy  peak 

Gave  forth  a  fearful  crash,  the  laurels  shook, 

And  fair  Castalia's  waters  ceased  to  flow. 

The  priestess  of  the  son  of  Lato  then 

Began  to  spread  her  bristling  locks  abroad, 

And  felt  the  inspiration  of  the  god. 

Scarce  had  she  reached  the  sacred  inner  shrine, 

When  with  a  roar,  beyond  the  voice  of  man, 

There  sounded  forth  this  doubtful  oracle: 
"Kind  shall  the  stars  return  to  the  Theban  city  of  Cadmus, 

If,  O  fugitive  guest,  Ismenian  Dirce  thou  leavest, 
C  Stained  with  the  blood  of  a  king,  from  infancy  known  to  Apollo. 
Brief  shall  be  thy  joys,  the  impious  joys  of  slaughter. 
With  thee  war  thou  bringest,  and  war  to  thy  children  thou  leavest, 
Foul  returned  once  more  to  the  impious  arms  of  thy  mother." 


210 


215 


220 


( )edipus: 


Crcon 


225 


230 


235 


Oedipus  23 


Oedipus:     What  I  at  heaven's  command  now  meditate, 

Long  since  should  have  been  rendered  to  the  king,  240 

That  none  by  craft  might  violate  the  throne. 
And  most  doth  it  become  a  sceptered  king 
To  guard  the  life  of  kings;    for  none  lament 
The  death  of  him  whose  safety  breedeth  fear. 
Creon:         Our  care  for  him  a  greater  fear  removed. 
Oedipus:     What  fear  so  great  that  duty  to  prevent?  245 

Creon:         The  Sphinx  and  her  accursed  riddle's  threats. 
Oedipus:     Then  now  at  heaven's  command  shall  be  atoned 

That  impious  deed. 

Whoever  of  the  gods 

Dost  look  with  kindly  eye  upon  our  realm; 

And  thou,  whose  hand  doth  guide  the  rolling  sphere; 

And  thou,  O  glory  of  the  smiling  sky,  250 

Who  in  thy  wandering  course  dost  rule  the  stars, 

And  with  thy  flying  wheels  dost  measure  out 

The  slow  procession  of  the  centuries; 

Thou  sister  of  the  sun,  night-wanderer, 

Who  ever  dost  reflect  thy  brother's  fires; 

And  thou,  great  ruler  of  the  boisterous  winds, 

Who  o'er  the  level  deep  dost  drive  thy  car;  255 

And  thou,  who  dost  allot  the  sunless  homes: 

May  he,  by  whose  right  hand  king  Laius  fell, 
j  No  peaceful  home,  no  trusty  lares  find; 

And  may  no  land  in  hospitality 

Receive  his  cheerless,  exiled  wanderings. 

O'er  shameful  marriage  may  he  live  to  grieve,  260 

And  monstrous  progeny.     May  he  his  sire 

By  his  own  hand  destroy;  and  may  he  do 

(What  doom  more  dreadful  can  I  imprecate?) 

The  deed  which  by  my  flight  I  did  not  do. 

No  room  for  pardon  shall  lx-  given  him; 

By  this  my  regal  scepter  do  I  swear, 

Both  by  the  sway  which  I  as  stranger  hold, 

And  that  I  left  behind;   by  my  household  gods,  265 

And  thee.  ()  Neptune,  who  with  shorter  waves 

And  twofold  current  dost  disport  thyself 

Upon  my  native  Corinth's  double  shores. 


-1 


Thi     Tragedies    op    Seneca 


And  thou  thyself  Ik-  witness  t<>  my  words, 

Who  dost  inspire  the  fate  revealing  lips 

Oi  Cirrha's  priestess:  so  may  Polybus,  270 

My  royal  father,  spend  a  quiel  age, 

And  end  his  days  is  peace  upon  the  throne; 

Ami  so  may  Merope,  my  mother,  know 

Tin-  marriage  of  her  Polybus  alone, 

As  from  my  grasp  no  favoring  power  shall  snatch 

That  guilty  one,  who  basely  slew  the  king. 

Hut  tell  me,  where  was  that  foul  murder  done? 

In  open  fight,  or  was  he  basely  snared  ?  275 

Crcon:         In  quest  of  cool  Castalia's  sacred  fount 

And  kafy  woods,  along  the  way  he  fared, 

On  either  side  with  tangled  thickets  hedged. 

'Twas  where  the  road,  three-forked,  spreads  to  the  plain. 

One  leads  through  Phocian  land,  to  Hacchus  dear, 

Where  high  Parnassus,  by  a  gentle  slope  280 

The  lowlands  leaving,  lifts  his  double  peak 

Into  the  heavens;   and  one  leads  off  to  where 

Two  oceans  bathe  the  land  of  Sisyphus; 

A  third  path,  passing  through  Olenian  fields, 

Along  a  hollow  valley's  winding  way, 

Attains  the  vagrant  waters  and  divides 

The  chilling  current  of  the  Elean  stream.  285 

'Twas  here  he  journeyed,  safe  'mid  general  peace, 

When  on  a  sudden,  lo,  a  robber  band 

I    11  on  him  with  the  sword  and  slew  him  there. 
[Tircsias  is  seen  approaching.] 

^ut  in  the  nick  of  time,  by  Phoebus  roused, 

Tiresias,  aged  and  with  trembling  limbs, 

Hastes  to  our  presence  with  what  speed  he  may; 

And,  as  his  faithful  comrade,  Manto  comes,  290 

Her  sightless  father  leading  by  the  hand. 

[Enter  Tiresias,  led  by  his  daughter  Manto.] 
Oedipus:  >^0  priest  of  heaven,  thou  next  to  Phoebus'  self, 

Explain  the  oracle  which  he  hath  sent, 

And  tell  on  whom  the  penalty  is  laid. 
Tiresias:     Because  my  tongue  is  slow  and  seeks  delay, 

Thou  shouldst  not  wonder,  great -souled  Oedipus; 


Oedipus 


25 


Much  truth  is  bidden  when  the  eye  is  dimmed.  295 

But  when  my  country,  when  Apollo  calls, 

I  will  obey.     Then  let  me  search  the  fates. 

If  in  my  veins  still  flowed  the  blood  of  youth, 

I  would  myself  sustain  the  god  and  speak. 

Now  to  the  altar  drive  a  pure-white  bull, 

A  heifer,  too,  upon  whose  tender  neck  300 

The  curved  yoke  of  toil  hath  never  pressed. 

And  thou,  my  child,  who  guid'st  my  darkened  steps, 

Describe  the  omens  which  Apollo  sends. 
[The  victims  are  stationed  before  the  altar  as  directed.] 
Man  to:        A  perfect  victim  at  the  altar  stands. 
Tiresias:     With  prayer  invoke  the  presence  of  the  gods, 

And  heap  the  altar  high  with  frankincense.  305 

Manto:        Lo,  on  the  sacred  fire  the  spice  is  heaped. 
Tiresias:     What  of  the  flame  ?     Did  it  with  vigor  seize 

The  generous  feast  ? 
Manto:  With  sudden  gleam  it  leaped 

Into  the  air,  and  quickly  fell  again. 
Tiresias:     And  did  the  sacred  fire  burn  bright  and  clear, 

And  point  its  gleaming  summit  straight  to  heaven,  310 

AAnd,  spreading  outward,  to  the  breeze  unfold; 

'Or  crawl,  with  course  uncertain,  near  the  ground, 

And,  flickering,  die  away  in  gloomy  smoke  ? 
Manto:        Not  one  appearance  only  had  the  flame. 

As  when  the  tempest-bringing  Iris  spreads 

Her  varying  colors  on  the  vault  of  heaven,  315 

And  with  her  painted  bow  adorns  the  sky; 

So  to  the  sacred  fire  thou  wouldst  not  tell 

What  hue  is  wanting  there  and  what  prevails. 

Dark  blue  it  flickered  first,  with  yellow  spots; 

Then  bloody  red,  and  then  it  vanished  quite.  320 

But  see!    the  flame  is  rent  in  rival  parts, 

And  the  glowing  embers  of  one  sacred  pile 

Are  cleft  in  double  heaps  and  fall  apart! 

O  father,  horror  fills  me  as  I  gaze; 

For,  as  I  pour  the  sacred  liquid  forth, 

It  changes  straight  to  blood — Oh,  horrible!  325 

And  stifling  smoke  surrounds  the  royal  head. 


T  ii  r     T  B  \  G  r  DIES     0  r     S  E  \i   «    \ 


Manto: 


riresias: 
Manto: 


riresias: 

Manto: 


Tircsias: 


Manto: 


And  now  in  denser  gloom  it  settles  down 
Upon  his  Eaos,  and,  with  its  veiling  cloud, 
It  shuts  ;l way  from  him  the  fading  light. 

Oh,  s]H-ak,  ami  till  us  what  it  d<>th  portend. 

How  can  I  Bpeak,  who  halting  stand  amazed 

Amid  conflicting  voices  of  the  soul? 

What  shall  I  say?    Dire  ills  arc  here,  indeed, 

Hut  hidden  yet  in  deepest  mystery.  330 

With  signs  well  known  the  wrath  of  heaven  is  wont 

To  lx-  made  manifest:   but  what  is  that 

Which  now  they  would  disclose,  and  then,  again, 

With  changing  and  destructive  purpose  hide? 

Some  deed  so  vile,  it  shameth  heaven  to  tell. 

Hut  quickly  set  the  chosen  victims  here, 

And  sprinkle  salted  meal  upon  their  heads.  335 

With  ]>caccful  face  do  they  endure  the  rites, 

And  hands  outstretched  to  smite  ? 

His  lofty  head 
The  bull  uplifted  to  the  eastern  sky, 
Then  shunned  the  light  of  day,  and  quickly  turned 
In  terror  from  the  newly  risen  sun. 

With  one  blow,  smitten,  do  they  fall  to  earth  ?  340 

The  heifer  threw  herself  upon  the  steel, 
And  with  one  blow  has  fallen;   but  the  bull, 
Though  smitten  by  a  double  deadly  blow, 
Distracted  wanders  here  and  there  in  pain, 
And  scarce  can  force  his  struggling  life  away. 
Driven  through  a  narrow-  opening  spurts  the  blood,  345 

Or,  sluggish,  does  it  water  deeper  wounds  ? 
The  blood  of  one,  through  that  same  welcome  thrust, 
Doth  flow  in  generous  streams;   but  of  the  bull, 
Those  yawning  wounds  are  stained  with  scanty  drops, 
While,  turning  backward,  through  his  eyes  and  mouth 
The  plenteous  current  flows.  350 

These  unblest  rites 
Some  dreadful  ills  portend.     But  come,  describe 
The  trusty  markings  of  the  viscera. 
Oh,  what  is  this  ?     For  not,  as  is  their  wont, 
With  gentle  motion  do  the  entrails  quake, 


Oedipus  27 


But,  rather,  strongly  throb  beneath  the  touch, 

While  from  the  veins  the  blood  leaps  forth  anew.  355 

The  sickly  heart  is  shriveled  up  and  lies 

Deep  hidden  in  the  breast;   the  veins  appear 

Of  livid  hue.     The  entrails  suffer  lack; 

And  from  the  wasting  liver  oozes  slow 

A  stream  of  black  corruption.     Nay,  behold 

(A  sign  of  dark  foreboding  to  a  king 

Who  holdeth  single  sway),  two  swelling  points 

Of  equal  elevation  rise  to  view;  360 

But  both  are  lopped  and  covered  with  a  veil. 

Refusing  lurking-place  to  things  unseen, 

The  hostile  side  uprears  itself  with  strength 

And  shows  seven  swelling  veins;   but  these,  again, 

An  intersecting  line  cuts  straight  across, 

Preventing  their  return.     The  natural  law  365 

Ami  order  of  the  parts  has  been  reversed, 

And  nothing  lies  within  its  proper  place. 

All  on  the  right  the  blood-filled  lungs  appear, 

Incapable  of  air;   the  heart  no  more 

Is  found  upon  the  left,  its  'customed  place. 

The  fatty  walls,  with  their  soft  covering, 

No  longer  richly  fold  the  entrails  in.  370 

The  ways  of  nature  are  in  all  things  changed; 

The  womb  itself  is  most  unnatural. 

Look  close,  and  see  what  impious  thing  is  this: 

Oh,  monstrous!    'tis  the  unborn  progeny 

Of  a  heifer  still  unmated  !   stranger  still, 

It  lies  not  in  the  wonted  place,  assigned 

By  nature's  laws,  but  fills  its  mother's  side.  375 

It  moves  its  members  with  a  feeble  groan; 

Its  unformed  limbs  with  trembling  rigors  twitch. 

Black  blood  has  stained  tin-  darkened  entrails  all; 

The  mangled  bodies  strive  e'en  yet  to  move, 

Make  show  to  rise,  and  menace  with  their  horns 

The  priestly  hands.     The  entrails  shun  the  touch.  380 

Nor  is  that  lowing  which  has  frightened  thee 

The  deep-voiced  roar  of  bulls,  nor  do  the  calls 

Of  frightened  cattle  sound  upon  our  ears: 


T  li  E      T  B  A  GEDZES     OP      S  I    \  E  C  A 


It  is  tlir  lowing  of  the  altar  fin  s, 

It  is  the  brightened  muttering  of  the  shrine  I 

PUS:      What  meaning  have  these  monstrous  Bigns?      Dei  laic; 

Ati<l  with  DO  timid  cars  will  I  attend.  385 

For  he  who  has  the  dregs  <>f  fortune  drained 
Fears  nothing  more. 
rtresias:  The  time  will  come  to  thee, 

When  these  thy  ills,  for  which  thou  sickest  aid, 
Will  blessings  stem. 
Oedipus:  But  tell  me  then,  I  pray, 

The  one  thing  which  the  gods  would  have  me  know: 

Whose  hands  are  stained  with  murder  of  the  king? 

Wither  the  birds  can  summon  up  the  name,  390 

Who  cleave  the  depths  of  heaven  on  fleeting  wing, 

Nor  yet  the  vitals  plucked  from  living  breasts. 

But  we  must  seek  it  in  another  way: 

The  murdered  king  himself  must  be  recalled 

From  realms  of  everlasting  night,  that  thus, 

Released  from  Erebus,  he  may  declare 

His  murderer.     The  earth  must  be  unsealed;  395 

The  pitiless  divinity  of  Dis 

Must  be  implored,  and  hither  brought  the  shades 

Who  live  beyond  the  Styx. 

Now  do  thou  tell 

To  whom  thou  giv'st  the  sacred  embassy; 

For  'tis  not  right  for  thee  who  hold'st  the  reins 

Of  government  to  seek  the  gloomy  shades. 
Oedipus:     O  Creon,  thee  this  task  demands,  to  whom, 

As  next  in  power,  my  kingdom  looks  for  aid.  400 

Tiresias:     And  while  we  loose  the  bars  of  deepest  hell, 

Do  ye  the  praises  of  our  Bacchus  tell. 

[Exeunt  Creon,  Tiresias,  and  Manto.] 
The  Chorus  [in  dithyrambic  strain  sings  in  praise  oj  Bacchus]:    Bind 
ye  now  your  flowing  locks  with  the  swaying  ivy, 
Brandish  aloft  with  your  languishing  arms  the  Nysaean  thyrsus! 

O  glorious  light  of  heaven,  attend  the  prayers  405 

Which  noble  Thebes,  thy  Thebes,  O  beautiful  Bacchus, 

With  suppliant  hands  outstretched  here  offers  thee. 
Turn  hither  thy  smiling  virgin  face, 


Oedipus  29 


Dispel  the  clouds  with  thy  starry  glance,  410 

The  gloomy  threats  of  Erebus, 
And  ravenous  fate. 
Thee  it  becomes  to  crown  thy  locks  with  flowers  of  the 
springtime, 
V^Thee  to  bind  thy  head  with  the  Tyrian  fillet; 
Or  with  the  clinging  ivy,  gleaming  with  Ix-rries, 

Softly  to  wreathe  thy  brow;  415 

Now  thy  hair  to  unbind  and  spread  in  confusion, 
Now  in  close-drawn  knot  to  collect  and  confine  ii ; 
Just  as  when  thou,  fearing  the  wrath  of  Juno, 
Didst  conceal  thyself  in  the  guise  of  maidens. 
Virgin,  too,  thou  seemedst  with  golden  ringlets,  420 

Binding  up  thy  robe  with  a  saffron  girdle. 
So  the  softer  graces  of  living  please  thee, 
Robes  ungirt  and  flowing  in  long  profusion. 
When  in  thy  golden  car  thou  wast  drawn  by  lions, 
Clad  in  flowing  garments,  the  East  beheld  thee,  425 

All  the  vast  expanse  of  the  Indian  country, 
They  who  drink  the  Ganges  and  cleave  the  surface 
Of  snowy  Araxes. 
Seated  on  humble  beast  the  old  Silenus  attends  thee, 
Binding  his  throbbing  brows  with  a  waving  garland  of  ivy;  430 

While  the  wanton  priests  lead  on  the  mysterious  revels. 
And  then  a  troop  of  Bassarids 
With  dancing  step  conducted  thee, 
Now  ranging  o'er  Pangaeus'  foot, 

And  now  on  Thracian  Pindus'  top.  435 

Soon,  'mid  the  noble  dames  of  Thebes, 
A  furious  Maenad,  the  comrade  of  Bacchus, 
In  garment  of  fawn-skin,  conducted  the  god. 
The  Theban  dames,  by  Bacchus  excited, 
With  streaming  locks  and  thyrsus  uplifted  440 

In  high-waving  hands,  now  join  in  the  revels, 
And  wild  in  their  madness  they  rend  Pentheus 

Limb  from  limb. 
Their  fury  spent,  with  weary  frame, 
They  look  upon  their  impious  deed, 
And  know  it  not. 


_^o  Tim     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

[no  the  Bea  realms  holds,  the  foster  mother  of  Bacchus;  445 

Round  her  the  daught*  ra  of  Nereus  dance,  Leucothoe'  singing; 
Over  the  mighty  deep,  though  new  to  its  waves,  Palaemon, 
Brother  of  Bacchus,  rules,  a  mortal  changed  to  a  sea-god. 
When  in  childhood  a  band  of  robbers  assailing 
Bore  thee  away  in  their  flying  vessel  a  captive, 

eus  quickly  calmed  the  billowy  ocean;  450 

When  I"!  tn  rolling  meadows  the  dark  sea  changes; 
II.  re  stands  in  vernal  green  the  flourishing  plane-tree, 
There  the  groves  of  laurel  dear  to  Apollo; 
While  resounds  the  chatter  of  birds  in  the  branches. 
\  w  are  the  oars  enwreathed  with  the  living  ivy, 
While  at  the-  masthead  hang  the  clustering  grape  vines;        455 
There  on  the  prow  loud  roars  a  lion  of  Ida, 
At  the  stern  appears  a  terrible  tiger  of  Ganges. 
Filled  with  terror  the  pirates  leap  in  the  ocean. 
Straight  in  their  plunging  forms  new  changes  appear;  460 

For  first  their  arms  are  seen  to  shrink  and  fall, 
Their  bodies'  length  to  shorten;   and  on  their  sides 
The  hands  appear  as  fins;   with  curving  back 
They  skim  the  waves,  and,  lashing  their  crescent  tails, 

They  dash  through  the  water.  465 

Changed  to  a  school  of  dolphins  now,  they  follow  the  vessel. 
Soon  did  the  Lydian  stream  with  its  precious  waters  receive  thee, 
Pouring  down  its  golden  waves  in  a  billowy  current. 
^Loosed  was  the  vanquished  bow  and  Scythian  darts  of  the  savage 
Massagetan  who  mingles  blood  in  his  milky  goblets.  470 

The  realm  of  Lycurgus,  bearer  of  axes,  submitted  to  Bacchus; 
The  land  of  the  Dacians1  untamable  felt  his  dominion, 
The  wandering  tribes  of  the  north  by  Boreas  smitten, 
And  whom  the  Maeotis  bathes  with  its  frozen  waters.  475 

Where  the  Arcadian  star  looks  down  from  the  zenith, 
Even  there  the  power  of  Bacchus  extended; 
Conquered  too  the  scattered  Gelonian  peoples. 
From  the  warlike  maidens  their  arms  he  wrested; 
Down  to  the  earth  they  fell  in  desperate  conflict,  480 

.The  hardy  bands  of  Amazonian  maidens. 
Xow,  at  last,  their  arrows  swift  are  abandoned, 

1  Reading,  le  DacOm. 


Oedipus  31 


And  .M;una<ls  have  they  become. 

Holy  Cithaeron  too  has  streamed  with  slaughter, 

Where  was  spilt  the  noble  blood  of  Ophion.  485 

(Proetus'  daughters  the  forests  sought;  and  Argus, 

Juno  at  last  consenting,  paid  homage  to  Bacchus. 

The  island  of  Naxos,  girt  by  the  broad  At  gean, 

(lave  to  Bacchus  the  maid  whom  Theseus  abandoned, 

Compensating  her  loss  by  a  better  husband.  490 

Out  of  the  rock  there  gushed  Nyctelian  liquor; 

Babbling  streams  at  his  word  clove  the  grassy  meadows; 

Deep  the  earth  drank  in  the  nectarean  juices; 

Streams  of  snowy  milk  burst  forth  from  the  fountains,  495 

Mingled  with  Lesbian  wine  all  fragrant  with  spices. 

Now  is  the  bride  to  her  place  in  the  heavens  conducted; 
(Phoebus,  with  (lowing  locks,  sings  a  stately  anthem; 

Love,  in  honor  of  both,  bears  the  wedding  torches;  500 

Jove  lays  down  the  deadly  darts  of  his  lightning, 

Hating  his  bolts  of  flame  at  the  coming  of  Bacchus. 
While  the  gleaming  stars  in  their  boundless  pasturage  wander, 
While  the  sea  shall  gird  th'  imprisoned  earth  with  its  waters,  505 

While  the  full-orb'd  moon  shall  gather  her  lost  refulgence, 
^While  the  morning  star  shall  herald  the  coming  of  Phoebus, 
While  in  the  north  the  Bear  shall  fear  the  cerulean  ocean, 
Still  shall  we  worship  the  shining  face  of  the  beautiful  Bacchus. 

\CT  III 
[Enter  Creon,  returned  from  the  riles  oj  necromancy.] 

Oedipus:      Although  thy  face  displays  the  marks  of  grief, 

Declare  whose  death  an  angry  heaven  demands.  510 

Creon:         Thou  bid'st  me  speak  where  fear  would  silence  keep. 
lipus:      If  Thebes,  to  ruin  falling,  move  thee  1 

Regard  the  scepter  of  thy  kindred  house. 
Creon:         Thou  wilt  repent  the  knowledge  which  thou  seek'st. 
Oedipus:     A  useless  cure  for  ills  is  ignorance.  5'5 

And  wilt  thou  still  obstruct  the  public  weal  ? 
Creon:  Where  foul  the  cure,  'tis  grievous  to  be  cured. 
Oedipus:     Thy  tidings  speak;   or,  by  thy  pains  subdued, 

Thou  soon  shalt  know  what  angered  kings  can  do. 
Creon:  Kings  hate  the  words  whose  speech  they  would  compel.        520 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Otdipus:     In  hadea  shah  thou  pay  thy  life  for  all, 
Unlrss  thou  till  the  Becreta  <>f  the  fates. 
■>t:        Nay,  Li  me  hold  my  peace.    No  smaller  boon 

Was  (  \el   sought. 
Oedipus:  More  often  than  by  Speech, 

Have  kingdoms  by  the  boon  of  silence  fall'n.  525 

n:        When  silence  is  denied  what  can  be  given? 

pus:      He  sins  who  silence  holds  when  speech  is  Inst. 
Creoni        Then  hear  in  peace  the  words  which  I  must  speak. 
Oedipus:     Was  ever  punishment  for  speech  compelled? 
Creon:        Afar  from  Thebes  there  is  a  frowning  grove  530 

War  the  well  watered  vale  of  Dirce's  fount. 
And  there  a  cypress  lifts  its  giant  head 
And  holds  within  its  evergreen  embrace 
The  trees  around.     Here  stands  an  ancient  oak 
And  spreads  its  branches  dark  with  clustering  mould. 
One  side  is  torn  by  time's  destructive  hand;  535 

The  rest,  with  roots  decayed  and  falling,  hangs 
Supported  on  a  neighbor's  trunk.     Here  stand 
The  bitter  laurel,  rustling  linden  trees, 
The  myrtle,  and  the  alder  destined  soon 
To  sweep  its  oarage  on  the  boundless  sea. 
Midway,  a  mighty  pine  its  smooth  trunk  lifts  540 

Q  Against  the  rays  of  Phoebus  and  the  winds, 
And  with  its  heavy  shade  it  overwhelms 
The  lesser  trees;   for,  with  its  spreading  boughs, 
It  stands,  the  giant  guardian  of  the  wood. 
Beneath  this  pine  there  springs  a  gloomy  pool  545 

That  never  saw  the  sun  nor  light  of  day. 
An  oozy  swamp  surrounds  the  sluggish  pool. 
Here  did  the  aged  priest  direct  his  steps; 
Nor  was  there  need  to  wait;  the  gloomy  spot 
Supplied  the  shades  of  night.     A  trench  is  dug, 
Where  brands  are  kindled,  pluck'd  from  funeral  pyres.         550 
The  priest  is  shrouded  in  a  mourning  pall, 
And  waves  the  bough;  his  dark  robe  sweeps  the  earth. 
And  now,  in  squalid  garb  and  wrapped  in  gloom, 
The  priest  advances,  with  his  hoary  locks  555 

Encircled  by  the  yew-tree's  deadly  leaves. 


Oedipus  33 


Black  sheep  and  sable  oxen,  backward  driven,1 

Are  sacrificed.     The  fire  devours  the  food, 

And  the  living  entrails  quiver  in  the  flames. 

The  shades  he  calls,  and  him  who  rules  the  shades, 

And  him  who  guards  the  dark  Lethaean  stream.  560 

A  magic  rune  he  mutters  o'er  and  o'er 

And  fiercely  chants  the  charm  which  either  lures 

The  shifting  ghosts,  or  forces  them  to  come. 

He  burns  the  victims  whole,  and  fills  the  trench 

With  sacrificial  blood,  and  snowy  milk,  565 

And,  with  his  left  hand  pouring,  mingles  wine; 

Again  he  chants,  and,  bending  to  the  earth, 

With  stronger  words  and  frantic,  summons  up 

The  manes.     Loudly  bayed  the  hounds  of  hell; 

And  thrice  the  hollows  gave  a  mournful  sound;  570 

The  whole  earth  trembled  and  the  solid  ground 

Was  rent  asunder.     Then  the  priest  exclaimed: 

"I  have  prevailed,  for  strong  the  words  I  spoke; 
The  deep  and  gloomy  realm  of  chaos  yawns, 
And  for  the  dwellers  in  the  home  of  Dis 
A  way  is  opened  to  the  world  of  light." 
The  whole  wood  shrank  away;  its  leaves  erect 
In  horror  stood,  the  mighty  trunks  were  split,  575 

And  all  the  grove  was  smitten  with  amaze. 
The  frightened  earth  crouched  back  with  hollow  groans, 
As  if  unwillingly  she  saw  the  deeps 

^Of  Acheron  assailed;  or  else  herself, 
That  back  to  life  the  dead  might  find  a  way, 
With  crashing  sound  her  close-wrought  barriers  burst;  580 

Or  threefold  Cerberus  in  angry  rage 
Clanked  loud  his  heavy  chains.     Then  suddenly 
The  earth  yawned  wide,  and  at  our  very  feet 
A  deep  abyss  appeared.     I  saw,  myself, 
The  sluggish  pools  amidst  the  dusky  shades; 
I  saw  the  shadowy  gods,  and  that  black  gloom 
.No  earthly  night  can  give.     At  that  dread  sight 

T  My  blood  ran  cold  and  froze  within  my  wins.  585 

And  then  there  hurried  forth  a  dreadful  band, 

1  Reading ,  retro. 


T  ll  l       T  B   IGEDIES      OF      S  E  N  KC  A 


And  Btood  in  armed  array,  thai  viper  brood, 

The  troop  of  brothers  sprung  from  dragon's  teeth; 

And  thai  iVll  pestilence,  the  curse  of  Thebes. 

Then  grim  Erinys  raised  her  piercing  cry, 

Blind  Fury,  Dread,  and  all  the  ghastly  forms  590 

Which  spawn  and  lurk  within  the  endless  shades: 

Grief,  in  her  madness,  tearing  OUt  her  hair; 

Disease,  scarce  holding  up  her  weary  head; 

Age,  burdened  with  itself,  and  brooding  Fear. 

Our  spirits  died  within  US  at  the  sight.  595 

Even  the  prophet's  daughter  stood  amazed, 

Though  well  she  knew  her  father's  mystic  arts. 

But  he,  undaunted,  since  he  saw  them  not, 

Convoked  the  bloodless  throng  of  gloomy  Dis. 

Like  clouds  the  shadowy  forms  come  trooping  up, 

And  snuff  the  air  of  unrestricted  heaven. 

Not  lofty  Eryx  in  his  mountain  glades  600 

As  many  falling  leaves,  nor  Hybla's  slopes 

As  many  flowers  produce,  in  sunny  spring, 

When  greedy  bees  in  teeming  bunches  swarm; 

As  many  waves  break  not  upon  the  shore; 

As  many  birds  deserting  Strymon's  streams, 

Exchange  not  wintry  blasts  and  Arctic  snows,  605 

And  seek  the  milder  valley  of  the  Nile; 

As  were  the  shades  the  prophet  summoned  forth. 

In  eager  haste  the  shivering  spirits  seek 

The  hiding-places  of  the  leafy  grove. 

From  out  the  cave,  his  right  hand  by  the  horns  6to 

A  raging  bull  restraining,  Zethus  came, 

And  next  Amphion,  with  that  famous  shell 

Whose  magic  strains  insensate  rocks  allured. 

Here  haughty  Niobe,  in  safety  now, 

Amongst  her  children  lifts  her  head  in  scorn 

And  proudly  counts  her  shades.     And  worse  than  she,         615 

That  mother,  mad  Agave,  next  appears, 

With  all  the  impious  band  who  rent  the  king. 

Then  Pentheus'  self,  all  torn  and  bleeding,  comes, 

In  rage  pursuing  those  wild  Bacchanals. 

At  length,  when  often  summoned,  Laius  comes 


Oedipus  35 


In  shame,  and,  skulking,  tiers  the  shadowy  throng,  620 

And  hides  himself  away;    but  still  the  seer, 
With  unrelenting  purpose  pressing  on, 
Repeats  his  strong  compelling  exorcisms, 
Until  he  brings  the  ghost  to  open  view. 
I  shudder  as  I  tell  it.     There  he  stood, 
A  fearful  sight,  his  body  drenched  with  blood, 
His  matted  locks  o'erspread  with  horrid  filth.  625 

And  now,  with  raging  tongue,  the  specter  spoke: 
"O  wild  and  savage  house  of  Cadmus,  thou 
Who  ever  dost  rejoice  in  brother's  blood ! 
The  thyrsus  wave,  in  madness  rend  thy  sons. 
The  greatest  crime  of  Thebes  is  mother's  love. 
O  fatherland,  'tis  not  the  wrath  of  heaven,  630 

But  sin  of  man  by  which  thou  art  undone. 

No  plague -fraught  south  wind  with  its  deadly  blast, 

Nor  yet  the  parched  earth  with  its  dry  breath, 

Is  harming  thee;   but  'tis  thy  bloody  king, 

Who,  as  the  prize  of  savage  murder  done, 

Hath  seized  his  father's  scepter  and  his  bed.  635 

An  impious  son  (but  far  more  impious, 

The  mother  who  in  most  unhallowed  womb 

Bore  children  once  again),  he  forced  his  way 

Back  to  his  source  of  life,  and  there  begot 

Upon  his  mother  offspring  horrible, 

Got  brothers  to  himself,  a  custom  base, 

Whence  e'en  the  very  beasts  of  prey  are  free.  640 

Oh,  base  entanglement,  more  monstrous  far 

Than  that  fell  Sphinx  which  he  himself  hath  slain. 

Thee,  thee,  who  dost  the  bloody  scepter  hold, 

Thee  will  thy  sire,  still  unavenged,  pursue, 

With  all  thy  town;   and  with  me  will  I  bring 

Th'  attendant  fury  of  my  wedding  night — 

I'll  bring  her  with  her  loud-resounding'  lash!  015 

Thy  house,  polluted,  will  I  overthrow, 

And  thy  Penates  will  I  trample  down 

In  fratricidal  strife!    Then  quickly  drive 

Thy  king,  ()  Thebes,  from  out  thy  boundaries  I 
'  Reading.  sonatUem. 


3<5 


T  H  l       T  RAGEDIES     OF      S  E N  EC  A 


For  when  his  baleful  step  shall  leave  the  land, 

In  vernal  green  shall  it  renew  itself,  650 

The  air  shall  give  again  purr  springs  of  life, 

And  to  the  woods  their  beautj  shall  return. 

hot  ruction,  Pestilence  and  Death,  Distress, 

Disease,  Despair — his  fitting  company — 

Shall  all  depart  with  him.     And  he,  indeed, 

Will  seek  with  eager  haste  to  flee  his  realm, 

But  him  will  I  hedge  round  with  barriers,  655 

And  hold  him  back.     Uncertain  of  his  way, 

And  with  his  staff  to  guide  his  faltering  steps, 

He'll  creep  along  his  sad  and  darkened  path. 

Do  ye  the  land  deny  him;   I,  his  sire, 

Will  take  away  from  him  the  light  of  heaven." 
Oedipus:     A  chilling  tremor  penetrates  my  bones; 

The  very  thing  which  I  have  feared  to  do,  660 

They  say  that  I  have  done  it.     But  the  charge 

That  in  unholy  wedlock  I  am  joined, 

My  mother  Merope  refutes,  for  she 

To  Polybus,  my  sire,  is  wedded  still ; 

And  my  hands  from  stain  of  father's  blood  are  clean, 

Since  Polybus  in  safety  lives  and  reigns. 

Since  both  my  parents  free  me  from  the  guilt 

Of  murder  and  that  base,  incestuous  crime, 

What  room  is  there  for  accusation  more  ? 

And  as  for  Laius,  Thebes  his  death  deplored  665 

Long  'ere  I  set  my  feet  upon  her  soil. 

What  shall  we  say  then  ?     Was  the  seer  deceived, 

Or  does  the  hand  of  God  afflict  the  state  ? 

No!  now  we  see  these  two  confederates 

Deep  in  a  crafty  plot:   that  priest  of  thine 

With  lying  tongue  pretends  the  will  of  heaven, 

And  promises  my  sovereignty  to  thee.  670 

Creon:         Would  I  expel  my  sister  from  the  throne  ? 

But  if  that  sacred  fealty  which  I  owe 

Unto  my  kindred  house  restrained  me  not, 

Yet  fortune  would  herself  affright  me  sore, 

For  with  care  and  danger  is  she  ever  fraught. 

But  be  thyself  content  to  lay  aside, 


Oedipus 


37 


Oedipus: 


Crcon: 


( )edipus: 


Crcon: 

Oedipus: 

Creon: 


Oedipus: 


Creon: 


( hdipus: 


Creon: 
Oedipus: 

Creon: 
Oedipus: 


While  still  thou  safely  mayst,  the  cares  of  state,  675 

Lest,1  borne  too  long,  they  may  o'erwhelm  thee  quite. 
In  a  humbler  state  more  safely  shalt  thou  dwell. 
And  dost  thou  bid  me,  then,  of  mine  own  will 
To  lay  aside  the  heavy  cares  of  state  ? 
Thus  would  I  counsel  those  to  whom  the  way 
Is  open  yet  to  choose  the  path  he  will.  680 

t^But  the  lot  that  fortune  sends  thee  thou  must  bear. 
\When  one  desires  to  reign,  'tis  ever  thus, 
That  humble  life  he  praises,  and  the  joys 
Of  ease  and  sleep  are  ever  in  his  mouth. 
A  peaceful  face  oft  hides  a  restless  heart. 
Does  my  long  loyalty  defend  me  not  ?  685 

To  traitors,  loyalty's  a  cloak  to  crime. 
Free  from  the  burdens  of  a  kingly  state, 
I  still  enjoy  the  fruits  of  royalty; 
My  house  is  honored  by  our  citizens; 
And  day  by  day  thy  royal  gifts  o'erflow, 

And  fill  my  kindred  home  with  luxury.  600 

Rich  food  and  clothing,  gifts  of  every  sort, 
And  safety  flow  to  many  through  my  aid. 
Why  should  I  think  aught  lacking  to  my  lot  ? 
Because  there  is  a  lack.     Prosperity 
Ne'er  halts  at  any  bounds. 

And  shall  I  fall,  695 

Prejudged,  and  have  no  right  to  plead  my  cause  ? 
Hadst  thou  consideration  for  my  life  ? 
Did  old  Tircsias  listen  to  my  cause  ? 
And  yet  I  am  condemned.     My  pattern,  thou; 
I  do  but  follow  in  the  way  thou  lead'st. 
But  what  if  I  am  guiltless  ? 

Kings  arc  wont 
To  fear  alike  the  doubtful  and  the  true. 

Who  quakes  at  empty  fears,  hath  true  in  store.  700 

Who  in  a  fault  is  taken,  and  forgiven, 
Is  filkd  with  hate.     Let  all  such  dubious  faith 
Be  far  from  me. 

But  thus  is  hatred  bred. 


1  Reading.  >u\ 


|8 


T  II  r      T  RAGEDIES     OF      S  i    \  i:  C  A 


I  tifus:  '  N.iy,  he  who  feareth  hatred  overmuch, 

Knows  not  the  :irt  of  ruling  like  a  kin,<:; 

I  For  'tis  by  fear  that  kings  are  guarded  most. 
(  -   m:     CWho  holds  the  scepti  r  with  tyrannic  sway,  705 

Doth  live  in  fear  of  ilx.se  who  fear  his  power; 
For  terror  ever  doth  return  to  him 
Who  doth  inspire  it. 
tipus  [to  attendants]:   Hence,  away  with  him; 

Deep  in  some  rocky  dungeon  let  him  stay, 
While  I  unto  the  palace  take  my  way. 
[Creon  is  led  away  by  the  attendants,  while  Oedipus  retires  into  the  palace] 
rus:  Not  thou  the  cause  of  these  our  ills; 

And  not  on  thy  acocunt  hath  fate 

Attacked  the  house  of  Labdacus;  710 

But  'tis  the  ancient  wrath  of  heaven 

That  still  pursues  our  race. 

Castalia's  grove  once  lent  its  shade 
QlJntO  the  Tyrian  wanderer, 

And  Dirce  gave  her  cooling  waves, 

What  time  the  great  Agenor's  son,  715 

O'er  all  the  earth  the  stolen  prey 

Of  Jove  pursuing,  worn  and  spent, 

Within  these  forests  knelt  him  down 

And  adored  the  heavenly  ravisher. 

Then  by  Apollo's  bidding  led, 

A  wandering  heifer  following,  720 

Upon  whose  neck  the  dragging  plow, 

Nor  the  plodding  wagon's  curving  yoke 

Had  never  rested,  he  his  quest 

At  last  gave  over,  and  his  race 

From  that  ill-om  ned  heifer  named. 

From  that  time  forth,  the  land  of  Thebes 

Strange  monsters  hath  engendered:  first,  725 

That  serpent,  sprung  from  the  valley's  depths, 

1  lissing,  o'crtopped  the  aged  oaks 

And  lofty  pines;   and  higher  still, 

Above  Chaonia's  woods,  he  reared 

His  gleaming  head,  though  on  the  ground  730 

His  body  lay  in  many  coils. 

And  next  the  teeming  earth  produced 


Oedipus  39 


An  impious  brood  of  arm<5d  men. 
The  battle  call  resounded  loud 
From  the  curving  horn,  and  the  piercing  notes 
Of  the  brazen  trumpet  shrill  were  heard. 
Their  new-created,  nimble  tongues,  735 

And  voices  strange,  they  first  employ 
In  hostile  clamor;   and  the  fields, 
The  plains,  their  kindred  soil,  they  fill. 
This  monster  brood,  consorting  well 
With  that  dire  seed  from  which  they  sprung, 
Their  life  within  a  day's  brief  span  740 

/  Enjoyed;   for  after  Phoebus  rose 
They  had  their  birth,  but  ere  he  set 
They  perished.     At  the  dreadful  sight 
Great  terror  seized  the  wanderer; 
And  much  he  feared  to  face  in  war 
His  new-born  foes.     Until,  at  length 

The  savage  youth  in  mutual  strife  745 

Fell  down,  and  mother  earth 
Beheld  her  sons,  but  now  produced, 
Returned  again  to  her  embrace. 
And  Oh,  that  with  their  fall  might  end 
All  impious  strife  within  the  state! 
May  Thebes,  the  land  of  Hercules, 
Such  fratricidal  strife  behold 
No  more !  750 

Why  sing  Actaeon's  fate, 
Whose  brow  the  new-sprung  antlers  crowned 
Of  the  long-lived  stag,  and  whom  his  hounds, 
Though  their  hapless  master  still,  pursued  ? 
In  headlong  haste  through  the  mountains  and  woods, 
He  flees  in  fear,  and  with  nimble  feet  755 

He  scours  the  glades  and  rocky  passes, 
In  fear  of  the  wind-tossed  feathers  hung 
Among  the  trees;    but  most  he  shuns 
The  snares  which  he  himself  has  set; 
Until  at  last  in  the  still,  smooth  pool  760 

He  sees  his  horns  and  his  features  wild, 
The  pool  where  the  goddess,  too  sternly  chaste, 
Had  bathed  her  virgin  limbs. 


40 


T  H  1       T  B   IOED1  i:  S     OF      SKNECA 


pus: 


ACT  IV 
My  bou]  is  filled  with  ilark,  foreboding  fear; 
For  the  gods  in  heaven  and  hades  j>>in  the  charge  765 

That  by  my  guilty  hand  King  Laiua  fell. 
And  yet  my  soul,  in  conscious  innocence, 
And  knowing  better  than  the  gods  themselves 

Its  set  nt  deeds,  denies  tile  charge. 

But  now, 

.\!«>ng  the  shadowy  vistas  of  the  past, 

My  memory  beholds  an  aged  man  who  fell 

Beneath  the  heavy  stroke  of  my  stout  staff. 

But  first  the  elder  strove  with  haughty  words  770 

To  drive  the  younger  traveler  from  the  path. 

But  that  was  far  from  Thebes,  in  Phocis'  realm, 

Where  the  forked  road  in  three  directions  leads. 

But  thou,  my  faithful  wife,  dispel  my  care: 

What  span  of  life  had  Laius  at  his  death  ? 

Fell  he  in  manhood's  bloom,  or  spent  with  age  ?  775 

Midway  'twixt  youth  and  age,  but  nearer  age. 

Did  courtiers,  thronging  round,  protect  his  course  ? 

The  many  lost  him  on  the  winding  way; 

A  few  by  faithful  toil  kept  near  his  side. 

Did  any  fall  as  comrade  of  his  fate  ?  780 

One  comrade  in  his  death  did  valor  give. 

Alas,  I  stand  convicted,  for  the  place 

And  number  tally.     Tell  me  now  the  time. 

Since  Laius  fell,  ten  harvests  have  been  reaped. 
[Enter  an  old  Corinthian  man,  a  messenger  from  Merope.] 
Old  Man  [to  Oedipus]:   The  state  of  Corinth  calls  thee  to  the  throne, 

For  Polybus  has  gained  his  lasting  rest.  785 

See  how  a  heartless  fate  doth  compass  me ! 

But  tell  me  how  my  father  met  his  end. 

In  gentle  sleep  he  breathed  his  life  away. 

My  sire  is  dead,  and  not  by  violence! 

I  call  the  gods  to  witness  that  to  heaven 

I  now  in  piety  may  lift  my  hands,  790 

And  fear  no  stain  of  impious  slaughter  more. 

And  yet  a  still  more  fearful  fate  remains. 
Old  Man:   Thy  father's  kingdom  will  dispel  thy  fears. 


J ocas til  : 

Oedipus: 

Jocasta: 

Oedipus: 

Jocasta: 

Oedipus: 

Jocasta: 


Oedipus: 

Old  Man: 
Oedipus: 


Oedipus  41 


Oedipus:     My  father's  kingdom  would  I  seek,  but  still 

I  fear  ray  mother. 
Old  Man:  Fear'st  thou  her  who  waits  795 

With  anxious  heart,  imploring  thy  return  ? 
Oedipus:     'Tis  piety  itself  that  bids  me  flee. 
Old  Man:   And  wouldst  thou  leave  her  in  her  widowhood  ? 
Oedipus:     Thou  speak'st  the  very  essence  of  my  fears. 
Old  Man:    Speak  out  the  fear  that  doth  oppress  thy  soul; 

For  'tis  my  wont  in  trusty  confidence 

To  counsel  kings. 
Oedipus:  Q^  By  Phoebus'  word  forewarned,  800 

From  wedlock  with  my  mother  do  I  flee. 
Old  Man:   Then  cease  thy  empty  fears,  and  lay  aside 

Thy  base  forebodings;  for  I  tell  thee  here 

That  thou  art  not  the  son  of  Merope. 
Oedipus:     Why  did  she  wish  to  rear  a  spurious  son? 
Old  Man:    Because  the  proud  security  of  kings 

Is  by  a  son  established. 
Oedipus:  Tell  me  now  805 

How  thou  dost  know  the  secrets  of  the  court. 
Old  Man:   With  my  own  hands  I  gave  thee  to  the  king. 
Oedipus:     Thou  gavest  me  ?     But  who  gave  me  to  thee  ? 
Old  Man:    A  shepherd  on  Cithaeron's  snowy  slopes. 
Oedipus:     How  earnest  thou  within  that  sacred  wood  ? 
Old  Man:   My  sheep  upon  that  mountain  did  I  seek.  810 

Oedipus:     Now  on  my  body  name  some  well-known  mark. 
Old  Man:   Behold,  thy  feet  in  infancy  were  pierced, 

And  from  thy  swollen  ankles  art  thou  named. 
Oedipus:     Who  was  the  man  who  gave  me  as  a  gift 

Into  thy  hands  ? 
Old  Man:  He  fed  the  royal  flocks,  815 

And  under  him  the  hireling  shepherds  served. 
Oedipus:     But  tell  his  name. 
Old  Man:  An  old  man's  memory 

Grows  faint  and  weakly  falters  with  disuse. 
Oedipus:     But  wouldst  thou  know  the  features  of  the  man? 
Old  Man:   I  might  recall  him,  for  a  slender  clue  820 

Ofttimes  awakens  memory  of  things 

Long  buried  and  forgot. 


J- 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Oedipus:  Then  hasten,  slaves, 

Lei  all  the  master-shepherds  drive  their  flocks 

Before  the  altar  here,  yea,  summon  all 

<  >n  whom  depends  the  guidance  of  the  flocks. 

()/(/  Man:    Or  chance  or  providence  has  kept  thy  fate 

In  darkness  hid.     What  long  hath  lain  concealed, 
I  hid  thee  suffer  to  remain  in  doubt. 
For  often  truth,  when  brought  into  the  light, 
Becomes  the  bane  of  him  who  seeks  for  her. 

Oedipus:     Can  any  ills  be  worse  than  those  I  fear  ? 

()/</  Man:    Oh,  be  thou  sure  the  truth  is  big  with  fate, 

Whose  meaning  must  be  sought  with  toil  and  pain. 
The  public  weal  calls  there,  and  here  thine  own, 
And  both  with  equal  voice.     Direct  thy  steps 
Along  a  middle  course!   provoke  not  fate; 
Permit  thy  fortune  to  unfold  itself. 
It  profits  naught  to  change  a  happy  state. 

Oedipus:     A  change  is  well  when  all  is  at  the  worst. 

Old  Man:   What  better  canst  thou  ask  than  royal  birth  ? 
No  further  seek,  lest  thou  thy  sire  repent. 

Oedipus:     Though  I  should  prove  to  be  of  shameful  blood, 
My  purpose  still  is  fixed  to  know  the  truth. 
[Enter  Phorbas,  the  head-shepherd.] 
But  see,  the  agdd  man,  old  Phorbas,  comes, 
'Neath  whose  control  the  royal  flocks  are  kept. 
Dost  thou  remember  still  his  face  or  name  ? 

Old  Man:   His  form  eludes  my  mind;   not  fully  known, 
And  yet  again  not  all  unknown  his  face. 

[To  Phorbas.] 
Old  man,  while  Laius  still  was  king,  didst  thou, 
His  shepherd,  ever  drive  the  royal  flocks 
To  pasture  here  upon  Cithaeron's  slopes  ? 

Phorbas:     On  fair  Cithaeron's  sunny  slopes  my  flocks 
Have  ever  found  the  greenest  pasturage. 

Old  Man:   Dost  thou  know  me  ? 

Phorbas:  But  dim  and  indistinct 

My  memory. 

Oedipus:  Didst  thou  at  any  time 

An  infant  boy  deliver  to  this  man  ? 

[Phorbas  jailers  and  turns  pale.] 


825 


830 


835 


840 


845 


Oedipus 


43 


Phorbas: 
Oedipus: 
Phorbas: 

Old  Man: 

Oedipus: 
Phorbas: 


Old  Man: 

Phorbas: 
Oedipus: 
Phorbas: 

Oedipus: 


Phorbas: 
Oedipus: 


Come  then,  speak  out !   why  dost  thou  hesitate  ? 

And  why  does  pallor  overspread  thy  cheeks  ? 

Why  seek  for  words  ?     The  truth  no  respite  needs.  850 

Thou  speak'st  of  things  long  buried  and  forgot. 

But  speak,  or  pain  shall  drive  thee  to  confess. 

I  gave  a  boy  to  him,  a  useless  gift; 

He  never  could  have  lived  or  known  the  light. 

The  gods  forbid!   The  child  is  living  still;  855 

And  may  his  life  be  long  on  earth,  I  pray. 

Why  dost  thou  think  the  child  did  not  survive  ? 

A  slender  rod  of  iron  his  ankles  pierced, 

And  bound  his  limbs.     This  wound  produced  a  sore, 

Which  by  contagion  spread  o'er  all  his  frame. 

Why  question  more  ?    The  fatal  truth  draws  near.  860 

Who  was  that  infant  boy? 

My  lips  are  sealed. 
Bring  hither  fire!     Its  flames  shall  loose  thy  speech. 
Must  truth  be  sought  along  such  cruel  paths  ? 
I  pray  thy  grace. 

If  I  seem  harsh  to  thee, 
Or  headstrong,  thy  revenge  is  in  thy  hand —  865 

The  truth  revealed.     Then  speak:   who  was  the  child? 
Of  what  sire  gotten  ?     Of  what  mother  born  ? 
He  was  the  son  0}  her  who  is  thy — wife. 
Then  yawn,  O  earth !  and  thou,  O  king  of  shades, 
Into  the  lowest  depths  of  hades  hurl 

This  vile  confounder  of  the  son  and  sire !  870 

Ye  citizens,  on  my  incestuous  head 
Heap  crushing  rocks!  with  weapons  slaughter  me  I 
Let  husbands,  fathers,  sons,  and  brothers — all 
Whose  name  I  have  defiled,  against  me  arm ! 
And  let  the  poor,  plague-smitten  populace 
Hurl  blazing  brands  from  off  their  funeral  pyres! 
The  plague  spot  of  the  age,  I  wander  here,  875 

Heaven-cursed  pollutor  of  all  sacred  ties; 
Who,  in  the  day  when  first  I  breathed  the  air, 
Was  doomed  to  death. 

[To  himself.] 

Call  up  thy  courage  now, 
And  dare  some  deed  befitting  these  thy  crimes. 


f 


44  T  n  e    T  r  a  g  e  D I  i:  s    or    Seneca 

Haste  to  thy  palace  and  congratulate  >s^' 

Thy  mother's  house  increased  by  children's  sons. 
[Exit.] 
Chorus:  If  it  were  mine  to  choose  my  fate 

And  fashion  as  1  would, 
(J  I'd  trim  my  sails  to  the  gentle  breeze, 
>  Lest,  by  the  raging  blasts  o'erwhelmed,  885 

My  spars  should  broken  be. 
May  soft  and  gently  blowing  winds 

My  dauntless  bark  lead  on; 
And  ever  on  the  middle  course, 
Where  safely  runs  the  path  of  life,  890 

May  I  be  traveling. 
Fearing  the  Cretan  king,  'tis  said, 
And  trusting  in  strange  arts, 
Young  Icarus  essayed  the  stars, 
And  strove  to  conquer  birds  in  flight,  895 

On  false  wings  balancing. 
He  fell  into  the  raging  sea 

And  his  name  alone  survived. 
But,  wiser  far,  old  Daedalus  900 

A  safer  course  midst  the  clouds  pursued, 

Awaiting  his  winged  son. 
As  the  timid  bird  flees  the  threat'ning  hawk, 

And  collects  her  scattered  young;  905 

So  the  father  watched  till  he  saw  his  son 
Plying  his  hands  in  the  gulfing  sea, 
Enmeshed  in  his  useless  wings. 
So  does  he  stand  in  treacherous  ways, 
Whoever  goes  beyond  the  bounds 

Ordained  by  nature's  law.  910 

[Enter  Messenger  from  within  the  palace.} 
But  what  is  this?    The  palace  gates  resound; 
Behold,  it  is  the  royal  messenger. 
With  wild  and  woeful  mien  he  seems  to  come. 
Speak  out,  and  tell  us  what  the  news  thou  bring'st. 

ACT  V 

Messenger:  When  Oedipus  his  impious  race  perceived,  915 

And  saw  the  warning  fates  had  been  fulfilled; 


Oedipus  45 


When  on  a  hideous  charge  he  stood  condemned; 

Then,  with  a  deadly  purpose  in  his  breast, 

Did  he  approach  his  palace,  and  in  haste 

Beneath  those  hated  battlements  he  went. 

And  as  a  lion  rages  o'er  the  sands, 
I  And,  threat'ning,  tosses  back  his  tawny  mane;  920 

So  Oedipus  advanced  with  blazing  eyes, 

And  stern,  mad  face,  while  hollow  groans  burst  forth, 

And  from  his  limbs  there  dripped  a  chilling  sweat. 

He  foams  and  vents  a  stream  of  threat'ning  words, 

And  from  his  heart  his  mighty  grief  o'erflows. 

He  in  his  madness  seeks  against  himself  925 

Some  heavy  penalty  and  like  his  fate. 
"Why  do  I  wait  for  punishment?"   he  cries; 
"Let  my  guilty  heart  with  hostile  sword  be  pierced, 

Or  overwhelmed  with  flames  or  crushing  rocks! 

Oh,  for  a  tiger  or  some  bird  of  prey, 

To  rend  my  tender  flesh!     Do  thou  thyself, 

Who  hast  beheld  full  many  deeds  of  blood,  930 

O  cursed  Cithaeron,  from  thy  forests  send 

Thy  wild  beasts  'gainst  me  or  thy  greedy  dogs. 

Oh,  that  Agave  were  returned  to  earth ! 

But  thou,  my  soul,  why  dost  thou  shrink  from  death  ? 

For  death  alone  can  make  thee  innocent." 

So  spake  he,  and  his  impious  hand  he  laid  935 

Upon  the  hilt  and  drew  his  glittering  sword. 
"And  dost  thou,  then,  with  this  brief  punishment 

Expect  to  pay  thy  mighty  debt  of  guilt, 

And  with  one  blow  wilt  balance  all  thy  sins  ? 

Thy  death  would  satisfy  thy  murdered  sire; 

But  what  to  appease  thy  mother  wilt  thou  do, 

And  those  thy  children,  shamefully  bc£<>t  ? 

What  recompense  canst  make  unto  thy  land,  940 

Which  for  thy  sin  is  smit  with  pestilence  ? 

Such  debts  as  these  thou  canst  nut  pay  by  death. 

Let  Nature,  who,  in  Oedipus  alone, 

Strange  births  devising,  hath  her  laws  o'erturned, 

Subvert  herself  again  to  punish  him. 

Let  it  be  mine,  in  never-ending  round,  945 

To  live  and  die,  and  to  be  born  again, 


|f>  The    Tragedies    of    S  i::n  k  c  a 

That  for  my  crimes  l>y  never-ending  pain 

1  may  atone.    Now  use  thy  wit,  poor  soul. 

Since  by  repeated  death  thou  canst  not  die, 

Choose  iln  n  .sunn-  form  of  lingering  death  in  lift-, 

Some  way  by  which,  not  numbered  with  the  dead, 

\  or  yet  the  living,  thou  mayst  linger  on.  950 

So  die,  that  in  thy  death  thou  mayst  remain 

Without  the  laud  wherein  thy  father  dwells. 

0  soul,  why  dost  thou  hesitate?"  And  then 
A  sudden  stream  of  tears  o'erspread  his  face, 
And  wet  his  cheeks.     "And  can  my  tears  suffice  ? 

Too  long  my  eyes  these  useless  showers  have  poured;  955 

Nay,  let  them  follow  where  the  tears  have  flowed, 

From  out  their  sockets  driven.     O  gods  of  wedlock, 

Is  this  enough  ?     These  eyes  must  be  removed." 

He  spoke  with  frenzied  rage;  and  all  the  while 

His  cheeks  were  flaming  with  a  dangerous  light, 

And  his  starting  eyeballs  strained  to  leave  their  seats. 

His  face  was  full  of  passion,  fierce  resolve.  960 

Groaning  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his  eyes; 

And  those  fierce  eyes  stood  forth  to  meet  his  hands, 

And  eager  followed  of  their  own  accord 

Their  kindred  hands,  as  courting  that  deep  wound. 

Deep  in  with  hooked  fingers  he  explores,  965 

And  rends  his  eyeballs  from  their  deepest  roots. 

Still  stays  his  hands  within  those  empty  seats, 

And  tears  the  hollow  sockets  with  his  nails, 

With  savage  joy,  with  vain  and  endless  rage;  970 

So  great1  his  fear  and  hatred  of  the  light. 

He  lifts  his  head,  and  with  those  empty  eyes 

The  heavens  surveying,  tests  his  darkened  sight. 

Whatever  from  his  mangled  eyes  still  hangs, 

i  le  tears  away,  and  now  in  triumph  cries 

To  all  the  gods:  "Oh,  spare  my  country  now,  975 

1  pray;   for  I  have  done  what  must  be  done, 
And  I  have  paid  the  penalty  I  owed. 

Now  have  I  found  at  last  a  fitting  night 

To  match  my  impious  wedlock."     As  he  speaks, 

His  face  is  watered  by  a  hideous  shower, 

1  Reading,  taut  urn. 


Oedipus 


47 


As  the  blood  flows  streaming  from  his  ruptuiv<l  veins. 
Chorus:  By  fate  we're  driven;  then  yield  to  fate.  980 

No  anxious,  brooding  care  can  change 

The  thread  of  destiny  that  falls 

From  that  grim  spindle  of  the  Fates. 

"Whate'er  we  mortals  suffer  hen', 

Whate'er  we  do,  all  hath  its  birth 

In  that  deep  realm  of  mystery. 

Stern  Lachesis  her  distaff  whirls,  985 

Spinning  the  threads  of  mortal  men, 

But  with  no  backward-turning  hand. 

All  things  in  ordered  pathways  go; 

And  on  ournatal  day  was  fixed 

Our  day  of  death.     Not  God  himself 

Can  change  the  current  of  our  lives, 

Which  bears  its  own  compelling  force  990 

Within  itself.     Each  life,  goes  on 

In  order  fixed  and  absolute, 

Unmoved  by  prayer.     Nay  fear  itself 

Has  been  by  many  found  a  bane; 

For,  while  they  sought  to  shun  their  fate, 

They  came  upon  it  in  their  flight. 
But  now  the  palace  gates  resound,  and  see,  995 

The  sightless  king  himself,  with  none  to  guide, 
Takes  hitherward  his  blind  and  groping  way. 
[Enter  Oedipus.] 
Oedipus:     Now  all  is  well  and  finished;   to  my  sire 

I've  paid  the  debt  I  owed.     How  sweet  these  shades! 
What  god,  at  length  appeased,  hath  wrapped  my  head 
In  a  pall  of  darkness,  and  my  crimes  forgiven  ?  1000 

Now  have  I  'scaped  the  conscious  eye  of  day; 
And  nothing  dost  thou  owe,  O  parricide, 
To  thine  avenging  hand.     Thy  sight  is  gone, 
And  such  a  countenance  becomes  thee  well. 
[Enter  Jocasta.] 
Chorus:       See  where  with  hurried  step  Jocasta  comes, 

Beside  herself  and  overcome  with  grief;  1005 

As  when  in  maddened  rage  that  Theban  dame 

Her  son's  head  tore  away  and  realized 

What  she  had  done.     She  wavers,  longs  to  S]*ak 


48 


The    T  r  a  g  e'd'i  k  s    of    Seneca 


To  that  afflicted  one,  and  Gears  to  Bpeak. 

Now  shame  at  last  has  yielded  t<>  her  K^'f, 

And  with  a  Faltering  tongue  she  speaks  to  him. 
Jocasta:       What  shall  I  call  (hoc?     Son?     Dost  shun  that  name? 

Thou  art  my  son;  thy  shame  confesscth  it.  1010 

And  yet,  O  son,  though  all  unwilling,  speak. 

Why  dost  thou  turn  away  thy  sightless  face? 
ipits:     Who  now  forbids  me  to  enjoy  my  night? 

Who  gives  me  back  mine  eyes?     My  mother's  voice! 

Oh,  awful  sound !     Now  is  my  labor  vain. 

Stay  where  thou  art !     Each  step  is  impious. 

Let  boundless  seas  our  guilty  souls  divide,  1015 

And  lands  remote;   and  if  beneath  this  land 

Some  other  hangs,  beholding  other  stars, 

May  that  far  country  one  of  us  receive. 
Jocasta:       What  thou  deplorest  is  the  fault  of  fate. 

A  fated  crime  can  leave  no  stain  of  sin. 
Oedipus:     Now  cease  thy  words,  O  mother,  spare  my  ears,  1020 

By  these  poor  remnants  of  my  mangled  form, 

By  that  unhallowed  offspring  of  my  blood, 

And  all  that  in  the  double  names  we  bear 

Is  right  and  wrong! 
Jocasta  [to  herself]:  Why  art  thou  listless  now, 

O  soul  of  mine  ?     Since  thou  hast  shared  his  guilt, 

Why  hesitate  to  share  his  punishment  ?  1025 

The  beauty  of  all  human  intercourse 

Has  fallen  into  ruin  for  thy  sake, 

Confused  and  lost,  O  wretch  incestuous. 

Not  if  the  father  of  the  gods  himself 

Should  hurl  at  me  his  glittering  thunderbolts, 

Could  I  for  my  foul  crimes  atonement  make,  1030 

Since  I  the  name  of  mother  have  profaned. 

Now  death  is  welcome,  but  the  way  of  death 

Must  I  consider. 

[To  Oedipus.] 
Come,  thou  parricide, 

And  lift  thy  hand  against  thy  mother  too. 

This  act  is  wanting  to  complete  thy  work. 
[To  herself.] 

Now  let  the  sword  be  drawn.     By  this  good  blade 


Oedipus  49 


Co 


Was  Laius,  my  husband,  slain — not  so;  1035 

My  husband's  father,  by  his  rightful  name! 

Shall  I  this  weapon  plunge  into  my  breast, 

Or  thrust  it  deep  within  my  waiting  neck  ? 

Nay,  nay:  thou  know'st  not  how  to  choose  a  place. 

Strike  here,  O  hand,  through  this  capacious  womb, 

Which  (horrible !)  the  son  and  husband  bore. 
[She  slabs  herself  and  falls  dead.] 
Chorus:       She  lies  in  death,  her  failing  hand  relaxed;  1040 

And  spouting  streams  of  blood  drive  out  the  sword. 
Oedipus:     O  fate-revealer,  thee  do  I  upbraid, 

Thou  god  and  guardian  of  the  oracles. 

My  father  only  was  I  doomed  to  slay; 

But  now,  twice  parricide  and  past  my  fears, 

Have  I  been  guilty,  and  my  mother  slain. 

JFor  'tis  by  sin  of  mine  that  she  is  dead.  1045 

O  lying  Phoebus,  now  have  I  outdone 

The  impious  fates. 

With  apprehensive  feet 

Let  me  go  out  upon  my  darkened  way, 

Planting  my  footsteps  with  a  faltering  tread, 

And  through  the  darkness  grope  with  trembling  hands. 

Stay  not  thy  flight,  speed  thy  uncertain  steps —  1050 

But  hold!   lest  on  thy  mother's  corse  thou  tread. 

0  Thebans,  weak  and  smitten  sore  with  ills, 
Whose  hearts  are  fainting  in  your  breats,  behold, 

1  flee,  I  go:   lift  up  your  drooping  heads. 
A  milder  sky  and  sweeter  air  shall  come 

When  I  am  gone.     Whoever  still  retains  1055 

His  feeble  life  may  now  inhale  the  air 
In  deep,  life-giving  draughts.     Go,  lend  your  aid 
To  those  who  were  to  certain  death  resigned; 
For  with  me  in  my  exile  do  I  bear 
All  pestilential  humors  of  the  land. 
Then  come,  ye  blasting  Fates  and  mad  Despair, 
Thou  deadly  Pestilence,  come,  come  with  me;  1060 

With  such  a  company  'tis  sweet  to  flee ! 

[Exit.] 


PHOENISSAE,  or  THEBAIS 
A  FRAGMENT 


Oedipus 
Antigone 
Jocasta     . 
Polyniccs  ) 
Eteocles     [ 
Messenger 


PHOENISSAE,  or  THEBAIS 

A  FRAGMENT 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

Late  king  of  Thebes. 

Daughter  of  Oedipus,  constant  to  him  in  his  misfortunes. 

Wife  and  mother  of  Oedipus. 

Sons  of  Oedipus  and  rivals  for  the  throne. 


The  scene  is  laid,  first  in  the  wild  country  to  which  Oedipus,  accom- 
pinied  by  Antigone,  has  betaken  himself;  then  in  Thebes,  and  lastly  in 
the  plain  before  Thebes. 

The  time  is  three  years  after  the  great  tragedy  of  Oedipus. 


The  stroke  of  fate,  that  has  been  threatening  Oedipus  since  long  bejorc 
his  birth,  has  fallen  at  last,  and  he  has  clone  the  thing  he  feared  to  do.  And 
now,  selj -blinded  and  self -exiled  from  his  land,  he  has  for  three  years  wandered 
in  rough  and  trackless  places,  attended  by  Antigone,  his  daughter,  who,  alone 
of  all  his  friends,  has  condoned  his  fated  sins  and  remained  attached  to  him. 

Meanwhile  his  sons,  though  they  agreed  to  reign  alternate  years,  are 
soon  to  meet  in  deadly  strife;  for  Etcoclcs,  although  his  year  of  royal  power 
is  at  an  end,  refuses  to  give  up  the  throne;  and  now  Polynices,  who  has  in 
exile  wed  the  daughter  of  Adrastus,  king  oj  Argos,  is  marching  against- the 
gaks  of  Thebes,  with  seven  great  armies,  to  enforce  his  rights. 

[By  a  different  version  from  the  "Oedipus,"  Jocasta  did  not  slay  herself  at 
once  as  in  thai  tale,  but  still  is  living  on  in  grief  and  shame,  and  strives  to 
reconcile  her  sons.] 


ACT  I 

Ipus  [to  Antigone,   who  has  followed  him  into  exile]:    O   thou, 
who  guid'st  thy  blinded  father's  steps, 
Sole  comfort  of  my  weary  heart,  my  child, 
Begotten  at  such  heavy  cost  to  me, 
Leave  thou  the  unpropitious  way  I  tread. 
Why  shouldst  thou  seek  to  lead  my  feet  aright 
Which  fain  would  wander?     Let  me  stumble  on.  5 

Far  better  shall  I  find  my  way,  alone, 
The  path  that  from  the  miseries  of  life 
Shall  take  me,  and  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth 
Free  from  the  sight  of  this  ill-omened  head. 

0  hand  of  mine,  how  little  hast  thou  done ! 
For,  though  I  do  not  see  the  light  of  day 
Which  looked  upon  my  crime,  still  am  I  seen. 

Unclasp  thy  clinging  hand  from  mine;  permit  10 

My  sightless  feet  to  wander  where  they  will. 

1  go,  I  go  where  my  Cithaeron  lifts 

I  lis  rugged  crags  on  high;  where  to  his  dogs 

(Actaeon,  speeding  through  the  rocky  ways, 

Became  a  booty  strange  and  pitiful; 

Where  through  the  dim  old  woods  and  dusky  glades,  15 

By  Bacchic  frenzy  fired,  the  mother  wild 

Her  sisters  led,  rejoicing  in  the  crime, 

When  on  the  waving  thyrsus'  point  she  bore 

The  gory  head  of  Pentheus;   where  the  bull 

<  )t  Zethus  rushed  along,  the  mangled  corpse 

Of  Dirce  dragging  (through  the  thorny  briars  20 

The  mad  beast's  flight  was  traceable  in  blood); 
jOr  where  the  cliff  of  Ino  lifts  its  head 
I  High  o'er  the  heaving  sea,  into  whose  <lcpths 

The  mother  leaped,  fleeing  an  unknown  crime, 
JYet  daring  other  crime,  by  terror  driven 

To  sink  her  son  with  her  beneath  the  waves.  25 

( >h,  happy  they  whose  better  fortune  gave 

Mothers  like  these !     There  is  another  place 

55 


56  T  II  i:     T  B  A  G  B  D  I  E  S     0  V     S  E  N  E  C  A 

Within  these  woods    my  place,  which  calls  to  me, 
To  which  I  fain  would  haste;  my  eager  feel 

Will  not  delay,  and  thither  will  I  go, 

Unguided,  all  alone.      Why  hesitate  30 

To  seek  the  place  thai  most  belongs  to  me? 

Give  hack  that  death,  Cithaeron,  give  again 

That  spot  where  once  I  lay  upon  thy  breast, 

That,  where  I  should  in  infancy  have  died, 

In  age  I  may  expire.     Now  let  me  pay 

The  debt  I  long  have  owed.     O  mountain,  fell 

And  bloody,  cruel,  savage  in  thy  rage, 

Both  when  thou  spar'st  and  when  thou  dost  destroy,  35 

This  body  long  ago  was  given  to  thee: 

Obey  my  father's  and  my  mother's  will. 

My  soul  is  eager  to  receive  at  last 

Its  punishment.     Why,  daughter,  why  dost  thou 

With  baleful  love  restrain  me  ?     Hold  me  not. 

My  father  calls,  and  I  will  follow,  yea, 

Will  follow  him.     Then  cease  to  hold  me  back.  40 

See  where  the  royal  Laius  comes  in  rage, 

The  blood-stained  scepter  of  his  ravished  realm 

Within  his  grasp.     See,  with  his  angry  hands 

He  seeks  to  tear  again  my  empty  eyes. 

0  daughter,  dost  thou  see  my  father,  too  ? 

1  surely  see  him. 

[To  himself:]  Now,  O  coward  soul, 
Brave  but  to  mar  a  helpless  part  of  thee,  45 

At  length  spew  out  that  hateful  life  of  thine. 
Delay  no  more  upon  thy  punishment, 
And  give  thyself  entirely  unto  death. 
Why  do  I,  sluggish,  linger  on  in  life  ? 
There  is  no  further  crime  that  I  can  do. 
Oh,  my  foreboding,  wretched  soul,  there  is! 

[To  Antigone. J 
Flee  from  thy  father,  flee,  while  still  a  maid; 
My  mother's  fate  makes  me  of  all  afraid.  50 

Antigone:    No  power,  my  father,  shall  unloose  my  hold 
Of  thee;   no  one  shall  force  me  from  thy  side. 
The  illustrious,  rich  house  of  Labdacus, 


Phoenissae  57 


f 


Let  my  two  brothers  seek  with  strife  to  gain: 
The  greatest  part  of  all  my  father's  realm  55 

Is  mine — my  father's  self.     Nor  shall  this  share 
Be  reft  away  from  me  by  him  who  holds 
By  stolen  right  the  scepter  over  Thebes, 
Nor  by  that  other  brother  who  leads  on 
Against  his  native  land  th'  Argolic  hosts; 
Though  Jove  himself  should  thunder  out  of  heaven, 
And  hurl  his  bolt  against  my  clinging  hands,  60 

I  would  not  let  thee  go.     Though  thou  forbid, 
I'll  guide  thee,  O  my  father,  'gainst  thy  will, 
And  thy  reluctant  feet  will  I  direct. 
Seek'st  thou  the  level  plain  ?     There  will  I  go. 
The  rugged  mountain  heights  ?     I'll  not  oppose, 
But  will  precede  thy  way.     Use  me  as  guide 
Wherever  thou  wouldst  go;   since  for  us  both  65 

Is  every  path  selected  that  thou  tread'st. 
With  me,  but  not  without  me,  canst  thou  die. 
\There  springs  a  lofty  cliff,  precipitous, 
(And  looks  far  out  upon  the  sea  below: 
Shall  we  seek  this  ?     There  hangs  a  naked  rock, 
There  yawns  the  riven  earth  with  gaping  jaws:  70 

Wouldst  thou  to  these  ?     And  there  a  mountain  stream 
In  roaring  torrent  falls,  and  'neath  its  waves 
Worn  fragments  of  the  mountain  roll  along: 
Shall  we  rush  headlong  in  ?     Where  thou  wouldst  go, 
I  go,  but  always  first.     I'll  not  oppose 
Nor  urge.     Dost  thou  desire  to  be  destroyed  ? 
(^  Is  death  thy  highest  wish  ?     If  thou  dost  die,  75 

I  go  before  thee;   if  thou  liv'st,  I  follow. 
But  change  thy  mind,  call  up  thine  old-time  strength, 
And  with  a  mighty  will  thy  sorrows  curb. 
Resist,  since  in  such  ills  defeat  is  death. 
Oedipus:     Whence  springs  so  rare  a  spirit  in  a  house  80 

So  impious?     Whence  comes  this  noble  maid, 
Unlike  her  race  ?     Can  it  be  true  indeed  ? 
Has  any  pious  thing  been  born  of  me  ? 
Ne'er  would  it  be,  for  well  I  know  my  fates, 
Except  for  harmful  ends.     Nature  herself 


The    Tragedies    o f    S  i  n e c a 

Has  changed  her  laws:  now  shall  the  stream,  reversed,  85 

Bear  back  its  whirling  waters  to  their  source; 
The  torch  of  Phoebus  shall  bring  in  the  eight, 
And  day  be  heralded  by  Hesperus; 
And,  that  I  may  but  add  unto  my  woe, 
I,  too,  shall  pious  be.     Not  to  be  saved — 
This  is  for  Oedipus  the  only  cure. 

Let  me  avenge  my  father,  unavenged  90 

Till  now.     My  hand,  why  dost  thou  hesitate 
To  exact  the  penalty  I  owe  to  him? 
Whatever  I  have  suffered  hitherto 
Was  for  my  mother's  sake.     Release  my  hand, 
Undaunted  girl;    thou  but  delay'st  my  death, 
And  thy  living  father's  funeral  prolong'st.  95 

Let  earth  conceal  at  last  this  hated  form. 
Thou  wrongest  me,  though  with  a  kind  intent, 
And  deem'st  it  piety  to  keep  thy  sire 
From  burial.     But  they  are  one  in  guilt, 
Both  he  who  forces  death  upon  a  man 
Who  fain  would  live,  and  he  who  holds  him  back 
Who  longs  to  die.     And  yet  they  are  not  one; 
For  surely  is  the  last  the  worser  sin.  100 

To  be  condemned  to  death  were  better  far 
For  me  than  to  be  saved  from  death.     Then  cease, 
My  child,  from  this  attempt.     I  have  reserved 
For  my  own  will  the  right  to  live  or  die. 
Right  gladly  did  I  yield  the  sovereignty 
/O'er  all  my  realm;   yet  o'er  myself  alone 
1 1  still  am  king.     If  thou  in  very  truth  105 

Art  loyal  to  me,  give  me  back  my  sword, 
That  sword  already  with  my  father's  blood 
Defiled.     Wilt  give  it  back  ?     Or  do  my  sons 
Retain  my  sword  together  with  my  throne  ? 
'Tis  well.     Wherever  there  is  need  of  crime, 
There  let  it  be;   I  gladly  give  it  up. 
Let  both  my  sons  possess  the  sword.     But  thou, 
Flames,  rather,  and  a  heap  of  wood  prepare;  no 

Then  will  I  fling  myself  upon  the  pyre, 
Cling  in  its  hot  embrace,  and  hide  myself 


Phoenissae  59 


Within  its  deadly  hold.     There  will  I  loose 

I  This  stubborn  soul,  and  give  to  mortal  dust 
Whatever  lives  in  me.     Where  is  the  sea  ? 
Come,  lead  me  where  some  beetling  crag  juts  out,  115 

Or  where  Ismcnus  rolls  his  savage  waves; 
^Or  thither  would  I  go  and  end  my  life, 
Where  once  upon  a  jutting  rock  abode 

The  hybrid  Sphinx  and  wove  her  crafty  speech.  120 

Direct  me  thither,  set  thy  father  there. 
Let  not  that  dreadful  seat  be  empty  long, 
But  place  me  there,  a  greater  monster  still. 
There  will  I  sit  and  of  my  fate  propose 
A  riddle  dark  which  no  man  will  resolve. 
Come  listen,  ye,  who  plow  the  Theban  fields; 
Whoever  worships  in  the  sacred  grove  125 

Of  Cadmus,  for  the  deadly  serpent  famed, 
Where  hallowed  Dirce  lies;   whoever  drinks 
Eurotas'  stream;   ye  who  in  Sparta  dwell, 
Illustrious  for  its  heavenly  brothers  twain; 
And  ye  who  reap  Boeotia's  fertile  fields, 

The  plains  of  Elis  and  Parnassus'  slopes:  130 

What  riddle  like  to  this  could  she  propose, 
That  curse  of  Thebes,  who  wove  destructive  words 
In  puzzling  measures?     What  so  dark  as  this? 
He  was  his  grandsire's  son-in-law,  and  yet 
His  father's  rival;    brother  0}  his  sons,  135 

And  father  of  his  brothers;  at  one  birth 
The  granddame  bore  unto  her  husband  sons, 
And  grandson's  to  herself.     Who  can  unwind 
A  tangle  such  as  this?     E'en  I  myself, 
Who  bore  the  spoils  of  triumph  o'er  the  Sphinx, 
Stand  mute  before  the  riddle  of  my  fate. 

[Has  a  speech  of  Antigone  dropped  out  at  this  point,  or  does  <  )edipus 
hark  back  to  a  previous  thought  after  a  dramatic  pa;: 

But  why  waste  further  words  ?     Why  dost  thou  try  140 

To  soften  my  determined  heart  with  pray. 

My  will  is  fixed  to  pour  this  spirit  forth 

Which  now  for  long  has  struggled  sore  with  death, 


60  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  Beek  the  world  of  shades;  fox  blackest  night 

Is  still  not  black  enough  for  tliis  my  crime. 

'  lis  sweet  in  deepest  Tartarus  i<>  hide; 

Or,  if  there  yet  is  deeper  pit  than  this,  145 

There  would  I  go.    'Tis  well  to  <lo  at  last 

The  thing  which  long  ago  should  have  been  done. 

I  cannot  lx'  prevented  from  my  death. 

Wilt  take  away  my  sword?     Wilt  bar  all  paths 

That  lead  unto  the  fatal  precipice? 

Wilt  keep  my  neck  tree  from  the  choking  noose? 

Remove  all  poisonous  herbs  from  me?     Yet  what,  150 

Think'st  thou,  will  all  that  care  of  thine  avail  ? 
I  For  death  is  everywhere.     A  kindly  God 

Hath  this  great  law  with  wisest  care  ordained: 

That  anyone  can  take  man's  life  away, 
\  But  none  can  stay  his  death;   for  countless  ways 
I  Are  open  unto  him  who  seeks  to  die. 

I  ask  no  aid  of  thine.     Well  am  I  used 

To  employ  this  naked  hand.     Then  come,  my  hand,         155 

With  all  thy  force,  with  all  thy  passion,  come. 

And  not  one  wound  alone  would  I  endure, 

For  I  have  sinned  in  every  part  of  me. 

Come,  strike  the  mortal  blow  where'er  thou  will: 

Break  through  my  breast  and  tear  my  heart  away, 

So  full  of  sin;   lay  bear  my  vitals  all;  160 

Rain  blows  upon  my  neck  until  it  break, 

Or  let  thy  gouging  fingers  tear  my  veins 

Until  they  flow  with  blood.     Or,  if  thou  wilt, 

Direct  thine  anger  whither  thou  art  wont: 

These  healing  wounds  reopen;    let  them  flow 

With  streams  of  blood  and  loathsome  gore  again; 

And  through  this  passage  drag  my  life  away, 

So  stubborn  in  defeat,  so  hard  to  storm.  165 

And  thou,  O  father,  wheresoe'er  thou  art, 

Who  stand'st  as  judge  upon  my  just  deserts, 

I  ne'er  have  thought  that  such  a  crime  as  mine 

Could  ever  be  sufficiently  atoned, 

Nor  has  this  living  death  contented  me; 

I  have  not  bought  my  pardon  with  my  eyes, 


P  H  O  E  N  l"s  S  a'e  6l 


But  fain  would  perish  for  thee,  limit  by  limb.  170 

Exact  at  last  the  penalty  I  owe. 

Now  I  atone;  then  I  but  sacrificed 

Unto  thy  manes.     Re  thou  here  to  aid, 

And  my  reluctant  hand  help  me  to  plunge 

Deep  down  and  deeper  in  my  sightless  eyes. 

A  scant  and  timid  offering  I  made, 

When  first  I  plucked  my  eager  eyeballs  out.  1 75 

And  even  now  my  trembling  spirit  halts, 

Yea,  halts,  though  downward  to  my  shrinking  hands 

My  face  inclines.     Now  shalt  thou  hear  the  truth, 

0  Oedipus:   less  boldly  than  thou  plan'dst 

Did'st  thou  pluck  out  thine  eyes.     Let  now  thy  brain  180 

*Feel  those  avenging  fingers;    through  this  door 
(Complete  the  death  which  has  begun  in  me. 
Antigone:    O  father,  great  of  soul,  I  pray  thee  hear 

With  quiet  mind  thy  wretched  daughter's  words: 

1  do  not  seek  to  lead  thee  back  again 
Into  the  presence  of  thy  former  home, 

Nor  to  the  illustrious  splendor  of  thy  realm;  185 

I  ask  thee  not  with  calm  and  peaceful  soul 

To  bear  again  that  fearful  shock  of  woe 

Which  even  yet  the  soothing  hand  of  time 

Has  not  assuaged.     And  yet  it  is  not  meet 

That  one  so  stout  of  heart  should  be  o'ercome 

And  to  misfortune  weakly  turn  his  back. 

It  is  not  valor,  father,  as  thou  think'st,  190 

To  shrink  from  life;   but  'gainst  the  mightiest  ills 

To  stand  opposed,  and  not  to  flinch  or  budge, 

That  is  the  truest  test  of  manly  worth. 

Who  tramples  under  foot  his  destiny, 

Who  disregards  and  scorns  the  goods  of  life, 

And  aggravates  the  evils  of  his  lot,  195 

Who  has  no  further  need  of  Providence: 

Wherefore  should  such  a  man  desire  to  die, 

Or  seek  for  death  ?     Each  is  the  coward's  act. 

No  one  holds  death  in  scorn  who  seeks  to  die. 

The  man  whose  evils  can  no  farther  go 

Is  safely  lodged.     Who  of  the  gods,  think'st  thou,  200 


6a  The  Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Grant  that  he  wills  it  BO,  ran  add  one  jot 
Unto  thy  sum  of  trouble?     Nor  canst   thou, 
Saw-  that  thou  deem'st  thyself  unfit  to  live. 
But  thou  art  not  unfit,  for  in  thy  breast 
No  taint  of  sin  has  come.     And  all  the  more, 
My  father,  art  thou  free  from  taint  of  sin, 
Because,    though    heaven    willed    it    otherwise,  205 

Thou  still  art  innocent.     What  is  there  now 
Which  has  so  maddened  thee,  which  goads  thy  heart 
)  To  fresh  outbursts  of  grief  ?     What  forces  thee 
To  seek  the  abodes  of  hell,  and  fly  from  these  ? 
Is't  that  thou  wouldst  avoid  the  light  of  day  ? 
Thou  dost  avoid  the  light.     Or  wouldst  thou  flee 
This  noble  palace  and  thy  native  land  ? 
Thy  native  land,  although  thou  livest  still, 
Is  dead  to  thee.     Wouldst  from  thy  sons  escape,  210 

And  from  thy  mother?     From  the  sight  of  all 
Has  fate  removed  thee;    and  whatever  death 
From  any  man  can  take,  thy  life  has  taken. 
Art  weary  of  the  kingdom's  press  and  stir? 
At  thy  command  thy  former  courtier  throng 
Has  vanished. — Whom,  O  father,  dost  thou  flee?  215 

Oedipus:     Myself  I  flee,  I  flee  this  heart  of  mine, 

Full  of  all  crimes;   I  flee  this  hand,  this  sky, 

These  gods;   I  flee  those  dreadful  sins  which  I, 

Though  innocent,  have  done.     And  can  it  be 

That  this  fair  world,  whence  bounteous  harvests  spring, 

Is  trod  by  such  as  I  ?     This  wholesome  air 

Do   I  with   pestilential   lips   inhale,  220 

With  water  quench  my  thirst,  or  any  gift 

Of  kindly  earth  enjoy?    And  do  I  dare, 

This  impious,  incestuous,  cursed  wretch, 

To  touch  thy  maiden  hand  ?     Have  I  still  ears 

To  hear  the  name  of  parent  or  of  son?  225 

Oh,  that  with  rending  hands  I  might  destroy 

These  narrow  ways  of  sound  by  which  I  hear 

The  words  of  men.     My  child,  all  sense  of  thee, 

Who  art  a  parcel  of  my  impious  deeds, 

In  my  unhappiness  I  would  have  fled.  230 


Phoenissae  63 


But  now  my  crime  sticks  fast  within  my  heart, 

And  threatens  ever  to  break  out  afresh; 

For  what  my  blinded  eyes  have  spared  to  me, 

Is  through  my  ears  poured  in  upon  my  soul. 

Oh,  why  do  I  not  plunge  this  darkened  life 

Into  the  eternal  shadow-world  of  Dis? 

Why  do  I  longer  hold  my  spirit  here  ?  235 

Why  be  a  burden  to  the  upper  world, 

And  wander  still  among  the  living  men  ? 

What  evil  yet  remains  ?     My  fatherland, 

My  parents,  children,  valor — all  are  lost, 

And  that  illustrious  glory  of  the  mind; 

Yea,  evil  chance  hath  stripped  me  of  my  all. 

Tears  yet  remained,  but  these  with  my  own  hand  240 

Have  I  destroyed.     Then  go  thy  ways,  my  child. 

My  soul  will  not  give  ear  to  any  prayers, 

And  only  seeks  new  punishment  for  crime, 

And  equal  to  my  sin — if  that  can  be. 

While  yet  an  infant  was  I  doomed  to  death. 

What  mortal  ever  drew  so  hard  a  fate  ? 

Ere  I  had  seen  the  light,  while  still  confined  245 

Within  the  darksome  prison  of  the  womb, 

I  was  a  thing  of  dread.     The  night  of  death 

Lays  hold  on  many  at  the  hour  of  birth, 

And  snatches  them  away  from  dawning  life; 

But  death  anticipated  birth  in  me. 

Some  are  o'ertaken  by  untimely  fate 

While  still  within  the  womb,  yet  without  sin.  250 

But  I,  yet  hid  within  the  hold  of  life, 

While  yet  my  very  being  was  in  doubt, 

Was  by  the  heavenly  oracle  compelled 

To  answer  to  a  charge  unspeakable. 

My  sire  condemned  me  at  Apollo's  word, 

And  through  my  tender  ankles  thrust  a  rod 

Still  glowing  from  the  forge;    then  sent  his  child 

Into  the  forest  deep,  a  prey  for  beasts  255 

And  all  the  savage  birds  Cithaeron  breeds, 

Accustomed  to  be  stained  with  royal  blood. 


64  The    Tragi:  dies    of    Seneca 

Yc  t  him,  whom  God  condemned,  who  by  his  sire 

Was  cast   away  to  die,  death  also  fled 

And  Delphi's  oracle  have  1  fulfilled: 

For  I  with  impious  hand  assailed  my  sire,  260 

And  slew  him. 

\\Yith  bitter  irony]  Vet,  for  this  impiety, 

Perchance  another  act  of  piety 

Will  make  amends:    I  killed  my  father;    true, 

But  still  I  loved  my  mother. — Oh,  'tis  shame 

To  mention  such  a  wedlock;  yet  I  will, 

And  force  myself  to  bear  this  punishment, 

To  tell  abroad  my  more  than  bestial  crime, 

So  strange,  that  nations  stand  in  dumb  amaze,  265 

So  shameful,  that  no  age  will  credit  it, 

That  e'en  the  shameless  parricide  is  shocked: 

Jnto  my  father's  bed  I  bore  my  hands 

Smeared  with  my  father's  blood,  and  there  received 

The  wages  of  my  crime — a  greater  crime. 

My  father's  murder  was  a   trivial   thing;  270 

But,  that  my  sum  of  crime  might  be  complete, 

My  mother,  to  my  marriage  chamber  led, 

Conceived — Oh,  how  could  nature  e'er  endure 

A  greater  crime  ?    And  yet,  if  aught  remains, 

I  have  begotten  children  vile  enough 

To  do  this  also.     I  have  cast  away 

The  scepter  which  I  won  by  parricide,  275 

And  with  it  other  hands  are  armed  for  war. 

Full  well  do  I  my  kingdom's  fortune  know, 

That  never  more  shall  any  gain  the  throne 

Without  the  sacrifice  of  kindred  blood. 

Dire  evils  doth  my  father-soul  presage, 

For  even  now  are  sown  the  baleful  seeds 

Of  future  strife;    the  plighted  pact  is  spurned;  280 

One  will  not  yield  the  throne  he  hath  usurped, 

The  other  claims  his  right,  calls  on  the  gods 

To  witness  of  his  bond,  and,  driven  from  home, 

Moves  Argos  and  the  towns  of  Greece  to  arms. 

No  light  destruction  comes  to  weary  Thebes; 


Phoenissae 


65 


For  weapons,  flames,  and  wounds  press  hard  on  her,  285 

And  greater  woes  than  these,  if  such  there  be, 
That  all  may  know  I  have  begotten  sons. 

Antigone:    If  thou  no  other  cause  for  living  hast, 
My  father,  this  one  reason  is  enough, 
That  thou  as  father  mayst  restrain  thy  sons 
From  deadly  strife.     Thou  only  canst  avert  290 

Their  threats  of  impious  war,  curb  their  mad  hearts, 
Give  peace  to  citizens,  to  country  rest, 
And  to  their  broken  treaty  honest  faith. 
To  many  men  art  thou  refusing  life, 
If  for  thyself  thou  dost  refuse  to  live. 

Oedipus:     Think'st  thou  that  such  as  they  have  aught  of  love  295 

For  father  or  for  right,  whose  hearts  are  filled 
With  lust  for  blood  and  power  and  impious  arms, 
Profane  and  cruel  sons — in  brief,  my  own  ? 
Toward  every  form  of  evil  deed  they  strive, 
And  have  no  scruples  where  their  wrath  impels. 
In  shame  begot,  they  have  no  sense  of  shame.  300 

They  have  no  feeling  for  their  wretched  sire, 
None  for  their  country.     Naught  but  lust  of  power 
Rules  in  their  maddened  breasts.     I  know  full  well 
To  what  dire  ends  they  tend,  what  monstrous  deeds 
They  are  prepared  to  do;   and  for  this  cause 
I  seek  to  find  destruction's  shortest  path, 
And  haste  to  die,  while  yet  within  my  house  305 

There  is  no  soul  more  steeped  in  guilt  than  I. 
O  child,  why  dost  thou  weep  about  my  knees, 
Why  seek  with  prayer  to  soften  my  hard  heart  ? 
This  means  alone  my  fortune  has  reserved 
By  which  I  may  be  led,  unconquered  else; 
For  thou  alone  canst  soothe  my  stubborn  soul,  310 

Canst  teach  me  piety.     For  naught  is  hard 
Or  grievous  in  my  sight,  if  I  perceive 
That  thou  dost  wish  it.     Do  thou  but  command: 
(_Then  will  I  swim  the  broad  Aegean  straits, 
Will  drink  the  flames  which  from  Sicilia's  mount 
Earth  belches  forth  in  whirling,  molten  streams,  315 

Will  beard  the  savage  dragon  in  his  den, 


66  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Still  raging  at  the  theft  <»f  Hercules; 

At  thy  command,  to  birds  of  prey  will  give 

My  bleeding  bearl    at  thy  command  will  live. 

|  The  first  act  seems  to  be  compute  here,  except  for  the  commenting  chorus 

which   would   naturally  jollow.     Oedipus   has   temporarily   yielded  to   his 
daughter's  "will.} 

ACT  II 

[The  following  passage  fittingly  opens  the  second  act  or  episode. 
Although  some  editors  would  assign  it  to  Antigone,  it  seems  more  fittingly 
to  belong  to  a  messenger  who  has  just  arrived,  for  the  double  reason  that  it 
gives  fresher  information  from  Thebes  than  Antigone  would  naturally  possess; 
and  that  Oedipus,  ajter  the  speech  to  his  daughter  with  which  the  previous 
scene  ended,  would  hardly  address  to  her  as  rough  a  reply  as  he  uses  in 
his  next  speech.] 

Messenger:  Thee,  sprung  from  regal  stock  to  be  our  guide,  320 

In  fear  of  civil  strife  our  Thebes  invokes, 

And  prays  that  thou  wouldst  save  thy  father's  house 

From  the  flaming  torch  of  war.     No  mere  threats,  these; 

For  ever  nearer  does  destruction  come. 

One  brother  claims  his  share  of  royal  power, 

His  turn  to  rule  according  to  the  bond, 

And  now  is  rousing  all  the  tribes  of  Greece  325 

To  bloody  war.     Against  the  walls  of  Thebes 

Seven  camps  have  set  them  down.     Haste  to  our  aid, 

And  war  and  crime   prohibit  equally. 
Oedipus:     Do  I  seem  one  to  stay  the  hand  of  crime, 

And  teach  it  to  refrain  from  kindred  blood  ? 

Should  I  teach  righteousness  and  filial  love  ?  330 

They  take  me  as  a  model  for  their  crimes, 

And  follow  me.     I  gladly  recognize 

And  praise  them  as  my  sons;   I  urge  them  on 

To  do  some  outrage  worthy  of  their  sire. 

Then  on,  my  worthy  offspring;  by  your  deeds 

Approve  your  noble  birth;  do  ye  surpass  335 

My  glory  and  my  praises;   do  some  deed 

Because  of  which  your  father  will  rejoice 


Phoenissae  67 


That  he  has  lived  till  now.     And  well  I  know 

That  you  will  do  it;   for  to  such  an  end 

Were  ye  brought  forth.     Such  noble  birth  as  yours 

Cannot  be  satisfied  with  common  crime 

Or  slight.     Then  forward  with  your  impious  arms! 

Attack  your  household  gods  with  flaming  brands;  340 

With  torches  gather  in  the  ripened  grain 

Upon  your  native  fields;    confuse  all  things, 

And  hurry  all  to  ruin  absolute; 

O'erthrow  the  city's  walls,  yea,  lay  them  low, 

E'en  to  the  level  of  the  plain;    the  gods 

And  temples  in  one  common  fall  o'erwhelm; 

Destroy  our  lares,  now  so  foully  stained, 

And  let  our  whole  house  perish  utterly;  345 

Let  all  the  city  be  consumed  with  fire, 

And   be   my  impious  marriage   chamber   first 

To  feel  the  flames. 
Antigone:  This  raging  storm  of  grief 

Give  o'er;   and  let  the  sorrows  of  the  state 

Prevail  with  thee  to  reconcile  thy  sons. 
Oedipus:     And  dost  thou  think  that  thou  dost  see  in  mc  350 

A  mild  old  man  given  o'er  to  peaceful  thoughts  ? 

And  dost  thou  summon  me  unto  thine  aid, 

As  one  who  loves  to  'stablish  peace  ?     Not  so: 

For  even  now  my  spirit  swells  with  rage, 

My  grief  burns  fiercely,  and  I  long  to  see 

Some  greater  deed  than  chance  or  youthful  wrath 

Would  dare  attempt.     I  am  not  satisfied 

With  civil  war:    let  brother  brother  slay.  355 

Nor  yet  would  this  suffice.     I  wait  to  see 

Some  evil  done  that  shall  lx>  like  my  own, 

That  shall  be  worthy  of  my  marriage  bed. 

Give  deadly  weapons  to  my  mother's  hand — 

But  do  not  seek  to  drag  me  from  these  woods. 

Here  will  I  hide  within  the  rocky  caves, 

Or  hedge  myself  about  with  thickets  dense.  360 

Here  will  I  catch  at  warlike  rumor  rife 

And  hear  what  news  I  may  of  brothers'  strife. 


0 


68  Tim     Tragedies    ok    Sen  e c a 

ACT  III 

[//  is  possible  that  the  following  fragments  belong  to  still  another  play. 
The  presence  oj  Antigone  in  Thebes,  notwithstanding  her  resolve  to  remain 
with  her  father,  would  strengthen  this  view.] 

Jocasta:       Oh,  fortunate  Agave!   for  she  bore, 

Within  the  hand  which  did  the  deed,  the  spoil, 

The  horrid  spoil  of  her  dismembered  son,  365 

A  raging  Maenad.     Yea,  she  did  the  deed; 

But  naught  in  all  her  sinfulness  did  she 

Save  that  one  crime.1     It  is  my  least  of  sins 

That  I  am  guilty;   this  my  greater  crime, 

That  I  have  made  another  sinful  too. 

But  even  this  seems  light  when  I  reflect 

That  I  have  given  birth  to  sinful  sons. 

Till  now  'twas  wanting  to  my  sum  of  woe 

That  I  should  love  my  country's  enemy.  370 

Three  times  has  winter  put  away  his  snows, 

And  thrice  have  Ceres'  golden  harvests  fall'n 

Beneath  the  sickle,  since  my  hapless  son 

In  exile  wanders,  robbed  of  fatherland, 

And  craves  assistance  from  the  Grecian  kings. 

He  has  become  Adrastus'  son-in-law, 

Whose  sway  is  o'er  the  waters  of  the  sea 

Which  Isthmus  cleaves.     Adrastus  even  now  375 

Is  leading  on  his  tribes,  and  with  him  march 

Seven  other  royal  hosts.     Ah,  woe  is  me, 

I  know  not  what  I  ought  to  wish  or  say. 

My  exiled  son  with  justice  claims  his  share 

Of  empire,  but  he  seeks  it  wrongfully. 

How  shall  I  pray  ?     I  count  them  both  my  sons,  380 

And  yet,  alas,  without  impiety, 

Can  I  for  neither  pray.     If  for  one  son 

I  call  a  blessing  down,  'tis  but  a  curse 

Upon  the  other's  head.     Yet  this  I  know: 

Although  I  love  them  both  with  equal  love, 

My  heart  inclines  toward  the  better  cause,  385 

The  worser  fortune,  ever  favoring  him 

1  Reading,  ultra  suum  scelus  hoc  cucurrit. 


Phoenissae 


69 


Who  suffers  more;    for  this  is  fortune's  way 

To  win  the  wretched  to  their  own  again. 
[Enter  Messenger  in  haste.] 
Messenger:  O  queen,  while  thou  dost  utter  these  complaints, 

And  spend'st  the  precious  time  in  useless  tears, 

With  weapons  drawn  the  battle  lines  approach. 

The  trumpet's  blare  incites  to  bloody  war, 

And  even  now  the  eagles  are  advanced.  390 

(^_The  kings  in  seven-fold  battle  are  arrayed, 

While  the  sons  of  Thebes  with  equal  spirit  go 

To  meet  the  enemy.     With  hurrying  tread, 

Now  here,  now  there,  advance  the  soldiery. 

Behold,  dark  clouds  of  dust  obscure  the  day, 
rAnd  from  the  plain  dense,  smokclike  billows  rise,  395 

Which  earth,  beneath  the  tread  of  countless  hoofs, 

Sends  rolling  heavenward.     And  through  the  dust, 

If  terror-stricken  eyes  can  see  aright, 

The  hostile  standards  shine;   with  lifted  spears 

The  foremost  ranks  advance;  while  banners  gleam, 

Bearing  the  names  of  famous  generals  wrought  400 

In  golden  characters. 

Then  haste,   O  queen: 

Unto  the  warring  brothers  love  restore, 

Give  peace  to  all,  and  by  a  mother's  hands 

Prevent  the  conflict  of  these  impious  bands. 
Antigone:    O  mother,  haste  thee,  haste  on  flying  feet; 

Hold  back  their  weapons,  from  my  brothers'  hands 

Strike  down  the  swords,  and  'twixt  their  deadly  points 
rThy  bared  breast  interpose.     Then,  mother,  haste;  405 

Or  stop  the  war,  or  be  thou  first  to  fall. 
Jocasta:       I  go,  I  go,  and  'twixt  their  swords  will  stand, 

And  there  unto  their  points  expose  my  life. 

And  he  who  shall  his  brother  seek  to  slay 

Must  slay  his  mother  first.     At  my  command 

The  son  whose  heart  is  moved  by  piety 

Will  lay  aside  his  arms;   the  impious  son  410 

Must  first  make  war  on  me.     These  fiery  youths 

Will  I,  although  a  woman,  old,  restrain. 

Within  my  sight  shall  be  no  impious  deed; 


7o 


T  II  E      T  R  A  G  E  DIES     <>  l       S  l    \  E  C  A 


Or,  if  within  my  sight  one  impious  deed 
Can  be  committed    then  shall  two  lx'  done. 
[Exit  toward  the  scene  of  conflict.] 
Antigone:    Now  gleam  the  advancing  standards,  near  at  hand; 

And   loud   the  hostile   battle-cry  resounds.  415 

A  moment,  and  the  impious  t]rvA  is  done. 

O  mother,  speed  thee  with  thy  prayers.    But  Si 

You  would  suppose  them  by  my  weeping  moved, 

So  slowly  do  the  arme*d  lines  advance. 

Messenger:  The  lines  move  slowly,  but  the  leaders  haste. 

Jocasta  {hurrying  onward]:  What  winged  wind  will  speed  me  through 

the  air,  42° 

bearing  me  onward  with  the  storm's  mad  whirl? 
What  monstrous  Sphinx  or  dark  Stymphalian  bird, 
Whose  spreading  wings  blot  out  the  light  of  day, 
Will  tear  me  on  its  space -consuming  wings? 
What  Harpy,  hovering  o'er  the  royal  board 
Of  that  stern  Thracian  king,  will  catch  me  up 
Along  the  lofty  highways  of  the  air,  425 

And  cast  me  headlong  'twixt  th'  opposing  lines? 

Messenger  [looking  ajter  her]:  Like  some  wild  creature  reft  of  sense  she  goes. 
Swift  as  an  arrow  shot  by  Parthian  hand, 
M3r  as  a  ship  which  boisterous  winds  impel, 
Or  as  the  flight  of  falling  star  from  heaven,  430 

Which  in  unswerving  course  athwart  the  sky 
Darts  on  its  fiery  way:    with  maddened  haste 
The  queen  has  sped  her  flight,  and  even  now 
Has  ta'en  her  stand  between  th'  opposing  lines. 
The  battle  pauses  yet  a  little  while, 
O'ercome  at  sight  of  those  maternal  tears. 
And  now  the  hosts,  on  mutual  slaughter  bent,  435 

Stand  with  their  weapons  balanced  in  their  hands. 
Peace  wins  the  day;  the  threat'ning  points  are  lowered; 
The  swords  are  sheathed.     But  in  the  brothers'  hands 
They  still  are  poised.     The  frantic  mother  now, 
Her  white  hair  torn  with  grieving,  speaks  to  them,  440 

Beseaches   their  reluctant,   stubborn   wills, 
And  wets  their  knees  with  tears.     Too  long  they  bide: 
Such  halting  bodes  the  mother's  prayers  denied. 


Phoenissae  71 


<G 


ACT  IV 

[On  the  field  before  Thebes,  between  the  battle  lines.] 

Jocasla  [kneeling  between  her  two  hostile  sons]:  'Gainst  me  your  arms 
and  blazing  torches  turn ; 
'Gainst  me  alone  let  every  warrior  rush, 
Who  comes  from  Argos  thirsting  for  the  fray, 
And  they  who  from  the  citadel  of  Thebes  445 

Come  down  to  battle.     Friend  and  foe,  alike, 
Attack  this  womb  of  mine  which  brothers  bore 
Unto  my  husband.     Rend  me  limb  from  limb, 
And  scatter  mc  abroad  upon  the  plain. 
I  bore  you  both — will  you  lay  down  your  arms  ? 
Or  shall  I  say  from  whom  I  bore  you,  too  ? 
Give  me  your  hands  while  still  they  are  unstained.  450 

'Till  now  'twas  all  unwittingly  you  sinned; 
'Twas  fortune's  crime,  who  ever  'gainst  our  peace 
Delights  to  plot.     But  this  impiety 
Is  done  with  fullest  knowledge  of  your  sin. 
Within  your  power  lies  whichsoe'er  you  will:  455 

If  filial  love,  then  grant  your  mother  peace; 
If  crime,  then  must  you  do  a  greater  crime. 
Your  mother  stands  between  you,  blocks  your  way; 
Have  done  with  war  or  with  the  war's  delay. 
To  which  of  you  in  fond  anxiety 

Shall  I  address  my  prayers  ?     Whom  first  embrace  ?        460 
My  heart  with  equal  love  is  drawn  to  both. 

[Turning  to  Polynias. 1 
This  son  has  wandered  far  away  from  me; 
But  if  the  compact  of  the  brothers  holds, 
This  other  son  must  wander  too.     Alas, 
And  shall  I  never  see  you  both  again, 
Except  in  enmity?     Do  thou  come   first 
Into  thy  mother's  arms,  who  hast  endured 
So  many  toils,  so  many  miseries,  465 

And,  worn  with  weary  exile,  see'st  at  last 
Thy  mother's  face.     Come  nearer  to  me  here. 
Now  sheathe  thine  impious  sword;    and  this  thy  spear, 
Which  even  now  is  quivering  with  hate 


72  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  eager  to  \k  thrown,  thrust  in  the  ground. 

Put  by  thy  shield  as  well;   it  keeps  me  off  470 

Prom  folding  thee  unto  my  mother-breast. 

Unbind  thy  brow,  and  from  thy  warlike  head 

Thy  helm  remove  and  let  me  sec  thy  face. 

Why  dust  thou  turn  away,  and  fix  thine  eyes 

With  timid  gaze  upon  thy  brother's  band? 

I'll  throw  my  arms  about  thee  for  a  shield,  475 

That  through  my  body  only  may  the  sword 

Find  passage  to  thy  blood.     Why  hesitate  ? 

Can  it  lx'  that  thou  dost  fear  thy  mother's  pledge  ? 
Polymces.\J  fear;   for  nature's  laws  no  longer  hold. 

Since  I  have  known  a  brother's  faithlessness, 

I  scarce  can  trust  my  mother's  plighted  word.  480 

Jocasta:      Then  lay  thy  hand  upon  the  sword  again, 

Bind  on  thy  helmet,  take  again  thy  shield; 

And  while  thy  brother  doth  his  arms  remove, 

Remain  thou  armed. 

[To  Eteocles.] 
Do  thou  lay  by  thy  sword, 

Who  first  didst  cause  the  weapon  to  be  drawn. 

If  peace  is  hateful  to  thee,  if  in  war 

Thou  dost  prefer  to  rage,  a  moment's  truce  485 

Thy  mother  begs  of  thee,  that  on  her  sons, 

Returned  but  now  from  exile,  she  may  print 

A  kiss  of  love,  the  first — perchance  the  last. 

While  I  seek  peace,  attend  ye  both,  unarmed. 

Dost  thou  fear  him,  and  he  fear  thee,  in  turn  ? 

But  I  do  fear  you  both,  and  for  you  both. 

Why  dost  refuse  to  sheathe  thy  naked  sword  ? 

Rejoice  in  this  delay.     You  wage  a  war,  49° 

Of  which  the  best  end  is  to  be  o'ercome. 

And  dost  thou  fear  thy  hostile  brother's  wiles  ? 

If  one  must  on  his  brother  work  deceit 

Or  suffer  it  himself,  'tis  better  far 

To  be  the  victim  of  the  treachery 

Than  to  perform  the  crime.     But  fear  thou  not;  495 

For  I  will  shield  thee  from  all  sudden  snares. 

Do  I  prevail  with  thee  ?     Or  must  I  grudge 


Phoenissae  73 


Thy  Gather's  blindness?    Have  I  hither  come 
To  check  an  impious  crime,  or  see  it  done 
Before  my  wry  eyes  ? 

[Eteocles  yields  to  her.] 

He   sheathes   his  sword. 
And  on  his  peaceful,  grounded  spear  he  leans. 

[Site  turns  to  Poly n  ices.] 
And  now  to  thee,  O  son,  thy  mother  turns  500 

With  prayers  and  tears.     At  last  I  see  thy  face 
Which  long  have  I  desired  and  prayed  to  see. 
Thee,  as  an  exile  from  thy  fatherland, 
The  household  of  a  foreign  king  protects; 
O'er  many  seas,  by  many  chances  driven, 
Thou'rt  still  a  wanderer.     It  was  not  mine 
With  stately  train  to  lead  thee  to  thy  bride,  505 

With  my  own  hand  to  deck  the  festal  halls, 
And  with  sacred  fillets  wreathe  thy  wedding  torch. 
The  father  of  thy  bride  no  wedding  gifts, 
No  wealth  of  gold,  has  given,  no  fields,  no  towns; 
Thy  only  gift  is  war.     A  foeman's  son  510 

Hast  thou  become,  far  from  thy  native  land, 
An  alien  household's  guest,  driven  from  thine  own, 
Committed  to  another's  interests, 
A  sinless  exile.     That  no  element 
.\ Tight  fail  thee  of  thy  father's  hapless  fate, 
Thou  too  hast  blundered  in  thy  marriage  choice. 
O  son,  after  so  many  years  returned,  515 

0  son,  thy  anxious  mother's  hope  and  fear, 
For  sight  of  whom  I  ever  prayed  the  gods; 
Though  thy  return  was  doomed  to  take  from  me 
As  much  as  at  thy  coming  it  could  give: 

i(When  shall  I  cease  to  fear  for  thee?"     I  said;  520 

The  mocking  god  replied:    "Him  shalt  thou  fear." 

1  should  not  haw  thee  near  me  now,  indeed, 
Were  there  no  war;  and  there  would  be  no  war, 
If  thou  wert  not  at  hand.     Oh,  bitter  price 
And  hard,  that  I  must  pay  for  sight  of  thee. 

But  still  there's  pleasure  in't.     These  hostile  hosts —  525 

Let  them  withdraw  a  little  space  from  here, 


74  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

While  yet  stern  Mars  dares  no  impiety. 

Yet  this  as  well  is  great  impiety, 

That  they  have  been  80  near.     I  am  appalled, 

And  tremble  when  I  see  two  brothers  stand, 

Bach  fronting  each,  upon  the  brink  of  crime.  530 

My  limbs  do  quake  with  fear.     How  near  I  came 

To  seeing  greater  infamy  than  that 

Which  thy  poor  father  never  could  have  seen! 

Though  I  am  freed  from  fear  of  such  a  crime, 

Though  I  shall  not  behold  such  evil  now, 

Still  am  I  most  unhappy  when  I  think 

How  nearly  I  beheld  it.     O  my  son, 

By  the  womb  that  bore  thee  through  ten  weary  months,     535 

And  by  thy  noble  sister's  piety; 

By  thy  unhappy  father's  sightless  eyes, 

Which  he,  though  innocent  of  any  crime, 

Tore  out,  his  fatal  error  to  avenge: 

Turn  from  thy  father's  walls  these  impious  brands,  540 

Send  back  the  standards  of  this  warring  host. 

Though  thou  shouldst  yield,  still  is  the  greater  part 

Of  thy  impiety  already  done: 

Thy  fatherland  has  seen  its  fertile  plains 

By  hordes  of  hostile  soldiery  o'errun, 

The  armed  legions  gleaming  from  afar,  545 

The  broad  Cadmean  meadows  trampled  down 

By  flying  hoofs,  the  princes,  insolent, 

High  in  their  chariots  dashing  o'er  the  plain, 

The  blazing  torches  threatening  our  homes 

With  utter  devastation,  and,  a  crime 

Which  even  Thebes  till  now  has  never  seen, 

A  brother  'gainst  his  brother  waging  war. 

This  crime  was  seen  by  all  our  The  ban  host;  550 

The  citizens  and  both  thy  sisters  saw, 

And  I  thy  mother;  to  himself  is  due 

That  Oedipus,  thy  father,  saw  it  not. 

Oh,  do  thou  but  compare  thyself  with  him, 

By  whose  stern  judgment  fitting  penalty 

E'en  error  pays.     Do  not  with  impious  sword  555 

Destroy  thy  city  and  thy  father's  house, 


Phoenissae  75 


X<  »r  overthrow  the  city  thou  wouldst  rule. 

CWhat  madness  holds  its  sway  within  thy  soul? 

Wouldst  thou,  by  seeking  to  obtain  the  land, 

Destroy  it  ?     That  it  may  become  thine  own, 

Dost  thou  intend  to  spoil  it  utterly  ? 

To  thine  own  cause  thou  doest  deadly  wrong, 

In  harrying  this  very  soil  of  thine  560 

With  hostile  arms,  in  laying  low  the  crops, 

And  spreading  fear  through  all  the  country  round. 

No  one  such  devastation  ever  works 

Upon  his  own.     What  thou  dost  burn  with  fire, 

And  reap  with  sword,  'tis  plain  that  thou  dost  grant 

To  be  another's.     Gain  thou  then  the  throne, 

Whichever  of  you  will;  but  gain  it  so 

That  'twill  not  be  the  kingdom's  overthrow.  565 

Dost  seek  these  homes  with  hostile  sword  and  brand  ? 

Wilt  thou  avail  to  batter  down  these  walls 

Which  great  Amphion  built,  these  mighty  walls, 

Whose  stones  no  human  hand  e'er  set  in  place, 

The  huge  weights  moving  by  the  creaking  crane — 

Hut,  marshaled  by  the  strains  of  song  and  harp, 

The  stones,  e'en  to  the  topmost  turret's  round,  570 

Moved  of  their  own  accord — wouldst  shatter  these  ? 

As  victor  wilt  thou  bear  away  the  spoils  ? 

And  shall  rough  soldiery  lead  off  in  chains 

Thy  father's  noble  friends  and  stately  dames 

Torn  from  their  grieving  husbands'  very  arms  ? 

And,  mingled  with  the  wretched  captive  band,  575 

Shall  Theban  maidens  go  as  presents  meet 

For  wives  of  Argos  ?    And  shall  I  myself, 

My  hands  (disgraceful !)  bound  behind  my  back, 

The  mother,  be  the  booty  of  the  son, 

In  triumph  borne  ?     And  canst  thou  bear  to  see 

On  every  hand  thy  fellow-citizens 

To  dire  destruction  given  ?     'Gainst  these  dear  walls  580 

Canst  thou  lead  on  the  savage  enemy, 

And  fill  thy  native  Thebes  with  blood  and  flame  ? 

Hast  thou  so  wild  a  heart  within  thy  breast, 

So  hard  and  savage — and  not  yet  a  king? 


76 


The    Trai,  edies    of    Seneca 


Then  what  will't  be  when  thou  the  Bcepter  wield'st  ? 

Oh,  put  aside  thy  spirit's  swelling  rage, 

Anil  give  thyself  once  more  to  piety.  585 

Potynices:  Thai,  1  may  wander  still  a  Fugitive  ? 

That  ever,  banished  from  my  native  land, 
Upon  a  stranger's  bounty  1  may  live  ? 
What,  think'st  thou,  could  I  suffer  more  than  this, 
If  I  had  broken  faith  or  falsely  sworn? 
Shall  I  be  punished  for  another's  sin, 

While  lie  enjoys  the  profits  of  his  crime  ?  590 

Thou  bid'st  me  go;  and  gladly  would  I  yield 
Unto  my  mother's  will.     But  whither,  then, 
Shall  I  depart  ?     "Let  my  proud  brother  dwell 
Within  my  royal  halls,  and  some  poor  hut 
Be  my  abode":  let  such  a  boon  be  given 
Unto  the  exile;  give  him  in  exchange 

A  hovel  for  a  throne.     And  shall  I,  then,  595 

A  pensioner  upon  my  wealthy  bride, 
Be  forced  to  yield  to  her  unbending  will, 
And  to  her  father's  domineering  ways 
Submit  like  any  slave  ?     'Tis  hard,  indeed, 
To  fall  from  royalty  to  servitude. 
Jocasta:      If  thou  art  eager  for  a  royal  throne, 

And  if,  without  the  scepter  in  thy  hand, 

Thou  canst  not  live,  whatever  land  thou  wilt  600 

Will  offer  many  kingdoms  to  thy  hand. 

On  this  side  Tmolus  lifts  his  ridgy  heights, 

Well  known  to  Bacchus,  where  wide-spreading  plains 

Stretch  out  upon  the  grain-producing  earth; 

And  where  Pactolus'  all-enriching  stream 

O'erflows  the  country  with  its  sands  of  gold. 

And  there  Maeander  through  the  joyful  fields  605 

Directs  his  wandering  waves;  swift  Hermus,  too, 

Cleaves  meadows  rich.     And  there  is  Gargara, 

Beloved  of  Ceres,  and  the  fertile  plains 

WTiich  Xanthus  waters,  fed  by  Ida's  snows. 

And  here,  where  ends  the  long  Ionian  sea,1  610 

Across  the  narrows  from  Abydos  stands 

«  The  text  is  corrupt  here.    The  Ionian  Sea,  situated  to  the  west  of  Greece,  can  have  no 
possible  connection  with  the  region  here  described,  i.  e.,  the  Hellespont. 


Phoenissae  77 


The  Thracian  Scstos.     Farther  to  the  east, 

With  safe  and  numerous  harbors,  lies  the  land 

Of  Lycia.     There  realms  seek  with  thy  sword; 

Against  these  peoples  let  Adrastus  fight, 

And  to  thy  sceptered  hand  deliver  them.  615 

Consider  that  thy  father  still  is  king 

Within  this  realm  of  Thebes.     Far  better,  then, 

Than  such  returns  as  this  will  exile  seem. 

Thou  liv'st  in  exile  through  another's  sin; 

But  thy  return  must  be  through  thine  alone. 

With  those  brave  troops  of  thine  'twere  better   far 

To  seek  thee  out  new  realms  unstained  by  crime.  620 

Nay,  e'en  thy  brother's  self  will  be  thy  aid, 

And  fight  for  thee.     Go,  wage  such  warfare,  then, 

That,  as  thou  fight'st,  thy  mother  and  thy  sire 

May  pray  for  thy  success.     For,  be  assured, 

That  kingdoms  won  by  crime  are  heavier  far 

Than  any  exile.  625 

Now  consider  well 
The  woes  of  war  and  war's  uncertainties: 
Though  thou  dost  bring  with  thee  the  flower  of  Greece, 
Though  far  and  near  thy  arme'd  soldiery 
Is  spread,  still  ever  in  the  balance  hangs 
The  fate  of  war.     'Tis  all  as  Mars  decides. 
Though  two  may  seem  to  be  unmatched  in  strength,  630 

The  sword  will  make  them  equal;  hope  and  fear 
Are  subject  to  the  blind  caprice  of  fate. 
Uncertain  is  the  prize  of  war  thou  seek'st, 
But  sure  the  crime.     Suppose  that  all  the  gods 
Have  heard  thy  prayers;  suppose  the  citizens, 
In  panic  fear,  have  turned  their  backs  and  fled; 
The  soldiers'  bloody  corpses  hide  the  plain:  635 

Though  in  such  victory  thou  shouldst  exalt 
And  bear  thy  murdered  brother's  spoils  away, 
Thy  victory'  is  but  a  broken  thing. 
What  sort  of  warfare,  think'st  thou,  that  would  be, 
In  which  the  victor  wins  by  curseVl  crime, 
And  glories  in  it?     Nay,  thy  brother's  self, 
Whom  thou,  unhappy  man,  dost  seek  to  slay,  640 


78 


T  hi      T  r  a  G  i   n  1  i:  s     o  v     S  i   \  i  c  a 


Polymces; 


Jocasta: 

Polynias: 
Jocasta: 


Eteodes: 


Jocasta: 
Eteodes: 


Jocasta: 
Eteodes: 

Jocasta: 
Eteodes: 


When  thou  hast  gained  thy  wish,  thou  wilt  lament. 
Oh,  then,  forego  this  most  unhallowed  strife, 
And  free  at  last  thy  fatherland  from  fear, 
Thy  parents  from  their  grief. 

Shall  I  do  tins, 

That  so  for  all  his  treachery  and  crime 

My  cursld  brother  be  not  recompensed? 

Fear  not.    He  shall  indeed  be  recompensed,  645 

For  he  shall  reign. 

Is  that  a  punishment  ? 
If  thou  believe  me  not,  believe  thy  sire, 
Believe  thy  grandsire  too.     This  truth  to  thee 
Will  Cadmus  and  the  house  of  Cadmus  tell. 
Without  disaster  has  no  Theban  king 
E'er  held  the  scepter,  nor  will  anyone 
W'h  1  wins  the  kingly  power  by  broken  faith 
Retain  it  long.     And  'mongst  those  faithless  ones  650 

Count    now    thy    brother. 

Be  it  even  so: 
If  I  must  die,  I  count  it  worthy  death, 
To  die  with  kings. 

[To  Polynices.] 

Thee  to  the  exiled  band 
I  doom. 

Reign  then,  but  hated  by  thy  friends. 
Who  shrinks  from  hatred  does  not  wish  to  reign. 
That  great  divinity  who  made  the  world  655 

Made  of  one  substance  royalty  and  hate. 
For  me,  I  count  it  worthy  of  a  king 
To  overcome  this  hate.     By  love  of  friends 
Too  oft  is  royal  power  circumscribed. 
O'er  those  who  hate  him  is  the  king  more  free 
To  lord  it  as  he  will.     Who  would  be  loved, 
With  but  a  weak  and  languid  scepter  reigns. 
But  hated  empire  never  long  endures.  660 

'Tis  for  the  king  to  speak  of  empire's  rules. 
Do  thou  give  laws  for  exiles.     For  the  throne — 
Wouldst  burn  thy  native  land,  thy  home  and  all  ? 
A  kingdom  is  well  bought  at  any  price. 


MEDEA 


MEDEA 


Medea 
Jason  . 


Creon 


Nurse  .    . 
Messenger 

Two  Sous 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 
Daughter  of  Aee'tes,  King  of  Colchis,  and  wife  of  Jason. 
Son  of  Aeson,  and  nephew  of  Pelias,  the  usurping  king  of 
Thessaly;  organizer  and  leader  of  the  Argonautic  expedition 
to  Colchis  in  quest  of  the  golden  fleece. 
King  of  Corinth,  who  had  received  into  his  hospitable  king- 
dom Medea  and  Jason,  fugitives  from  Thessaly,  after  Medea 
had  plotted  the  death  of  Pelias. 

Of  Medea. 

Of  Medea  and  Jason  (personae  mutae). 


Chorus  oj  Corinthians.     Friendly  to  Jason  and  hostile  to  Medea. 

The  time  of  the  play  is  confined  to  the  single  day  of  the  culmination  / 
of  the  tragedy,  the  day  proposed  by  Creon  for  the  banishment  of  Medea 
and  marriage  of  Jason  to  Creiisa,  daughter  of  Creon. 

The  scene  is  in  Corinth,  in  the  court  of  the  house  of  Jason. 


Although  the  play  is  confined  in  time  to  the  final  day  of  catastrophe 
at  Corinth,  the  background  is  the  whole  romantic  story  of  the  Argonauts: 
how  Jason  and  his  hero-comrades,  at  the  instigation  oj  Pelias,  the  usurping 
king  oj  Thessalian  Iolchos,  undertook  the  first  voyage  in  quest  oj  the  golden 
fleece;  how,  after  many  adventures,  these  first  sailors  reached  the  kingdom 
oj  Aeeles  who  jealously  guarded  the  fleece,  since  upon  its  possession  depended 
his  own  kingship;  how  the  three  deadly  labors  were  imposed  upon  Jason 
before  the  fleece  could  be  won — the  yoking  oj  the  fiery  bulls,  the  contest  with  the 
giants  that  sprang  jrom  the  sown  serpent's  teeth,  and  the  overcoming  oj  the 
sleepless  dragon  that  ever  guarded  the  fleece;  how,  smitten  by  love  oj  him, 
the  beautiful,  barbaric  Medea,  daughter  oj  the  king,  by  the  help  oj  her  magic 
aided  Jason  in  all  these  labors  and  accompanied  him  in  his  flight;  how,  to 
retard  her  father's  pursuit  she  slew  her  brother  and  scattered  his  mangled 
remains  in  the  path  as  they  fled;  how  again,  jor  love  oj  Jason,  she  restored 
his  jalhcr  to  youth  and  tricked  Pelias'  own  daughters  into  slaying  their  aged 
sire;  how,  jor  this  act,  Medea  with  her  husband  were  exiled  jrom  Thessalia 
and  dwelt  in  Corinth;  how,  jor  ten  happy  years,  she  lived  with  her  husband 
and  two  sons  in  this  alien  land,  her  wild  past  almost  jorgoitcn,  her  magic 
untouched. 

But  now,  Jason  has  been  gradually  won  away  jrom  his  wije,  and  is 
about  to  wed  Creiisa,  the  daughter  oj  Creon,  king  oj  Corinth.  The  wedding 
festivities  have,  already  begun  when  the  play  opens  and  reveals  Medea  invok- 
ing all  the  powers  oj  heaven  and  hell  in  punishment  oj  her  jalse  lord. 


ACT  I 

Medea:    Ye  gods  of  wedlock,  thou  the  nuptial  couch's  guard, 
Lucina,  thou  from  whom  that  tamer  of  the  deep, 
The  Argo's  pilot,  learned  to  guide  his  pristine  bark, 
And  Neptune,  thou  stern  ruler  of  the  ocean's  depths, 
And  Titan,  by  whose  rays  the  shining  day  is  born,  5 

Thou  triformed  maiden  Hecate,  whose  conscious  beams 
With  splendor  shine  upon  the  mystic  worshipers — 
Upon  ye  all  I  call,  the  powers  of  heaven,  the  gods 
By  whose  divinity  false  Jason  swore;  and  ye 
Whose  aid  Medea  may  more  boldly  claim,  thou  world 
Of  endless  night,  th'  antipodes  of  heavenly  realms, 
Ye  damne"d  ghosts,  thou  lord  of  hades'  dark  domain,  10 

Whose  mistress  was  with  trustier  pledge  won  to  thy  side — 
Before  ye  all  this  baleful  prayer  I  bring:   Be  near! 
Be  near!     Ye  crime-avenging  furies,  come  and  loose 
Your  horrid  locks  with  serpent  coils  entwined,  and  grasp 
With  bloody  hands  the  smoking  torch;   be  near  as  once  15 

Ye  stood  in  dread  array  beside  my  wedding  couch. 
Upon  this  new-made  bride  destruction  send,  and  death 
Upon  the  king  and  all  the  royal  line !     But  he, 
My  husband,  may  he  live  to  meet  some  heavier  doom; 
This  curse  I  imprecate  upon  his  head;   may  he, 
Through  distant  lands,  in  want,  in  exile  wander,  scorned         20 
And  houseless.     Nay,  may  he  once  more  my  favor  woo; 
A  stranger's  threshold  may  he  seek  where  now  he  walks 

.T  A  well-known  guest;  and — this  the  blackest  curse  I  know — 
May  children  rise  to  him  to  emulate  their  sire, 

>   Their  mother's  image  bear. — Now  won  is  vengeance,  won! 
For  I  have  children  borne. — Nay,  nay,  'tis  empty  plaints  25 

And  useless  words  I  frame.     Shall  I  not  rather  rush 
Against  the  foe  and  dash  the  torches  from  their  hands, 

j"  The  light  from  heaven?     Does  Father  Phoebus  suffer  this? 
Do  men  behold  his  face,  as,  seated  in  his  1 

He  rolls  along  th'  accustomed  track  of  sky  serene?  30 

Why  does  he  not  return  to  morning's  gates,  the  law 

83 


84  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Of  heaven  reversing?    Grant  that  I  be  borne  aloft 

In  my  ancestral  car!     Give  me  the  reins,  O  sire, 
Thy  fiery  team  grant  me  to  guide  with  lines  of  flame. 
Then  Corinth,  though  with  double  shore  delaying  fate,  35 

Herself  consumed  with  fire,  shall  light  two  seas  with  flame. 
Hut  no,  this  course  alone  remains,  that  I  myself 
Should  bear  the  wedding  torch,  with  acquiescent  prayers, 
And  slay  the  victims  on  the  altars  consecrate. 
Thyself  inspect  the  entrails,  and  seek  there  the  way  40 

j  By  prayer,  if  still,  O  soul,  thou  livest,   if  there  still 
Remaineth  aught  of  old-time  strength  in  thee!     Away 
With  woman's  fears!   Put  on  thy  heart  a  breast-plate  hard 
And  chill  as  Caucasus !     Then  all  the  wizard  arts 
That  Phasis  knew,  or  Pontus,  shall  be  seen  again 
s^  In  Corinth.     Now  with  mad,  unheard  of,  dreadful  deeds,  45 

JT  Whereat  high  heaven  and  earth  below  shall  pale  and  quake, 
My  pregnant  soul  is  teeming;   and  my  heart  is  full 
Of  pictured  wounds  and  death  and  slaughter. — Ah,  too  long 
-     On  trifling  ills  I  dwell.     These  were  my  virgin  deeds.! 

Now  that  a  mother's  pains  I've  felt,  my  larger  heart  50 

Must  larger  crimes  conceive.     Then  passion,  gird  thyself, 

Put  on  thy  strength,  and  for  the  issue  now  prepare ! 

Let  my  rejection  pay  as  dread  a  fee  as  when, 

Of  old,  through  impious  deeds  of  blood,  I  came  to  him. 

Come,  break  through  slow  delay,  and  let  the  home  once  won 

By  crime,  by  equal  deeds  of  crime  be  done  away!  55 

Chorus  [chanting  the  epithalamium  for  the  nuptials  of  Jason  and  Creusa]: 

Now  on  our  royal  nuptials  graciously  smiling, 

Here  may  the  lords  of  heaven  and  the  deeps  of  the  ocean 

Come  while  the  people  feast  in  pious  rejoicing! 

First  to  the  gods  who  sway  the  scepter  of  heaven, 

Pealing  forth  their  will  in  the  voice  of  thunder, 

Let  the  white  bull  his  proud  head  bow  in  tribute.  60 

Then  to  the  fair  Lucina,  her  gift  we  offer, 

White  as  the  driven  snow,  this  beautiful  heifer, 

Still  with  her  neck  untouched  by  the  yoke  of  bondage. 


Medea  85 

Thou  who  alone  canst  rule  the  heart  of  the  war-god, 

Thou  who  Iinkest  in  peace  the  opposing  nations, 

Out  of  thy  generous  hand  abundance  pouring —  65 

iThee  we  offer  a  daintier  gift,  O  Concord! 

Thou  who,  on  the  marriage  torches  attending, 

Night's  dark  gloom  with  favoring  hand  dispellest, 

Hither  come  with  languishing  footstep  drunken, 

Binding  thy  temples  fair  with  garlands  of  roses!  70 

Star  of  the  evening,  thou  who  to  twilight  leadest 
The  day,  and  hailest  again  the  dawn  of  the  morning, 
All  too  slowly  thou  com'st  for  lovers  impatient, 
Eager  to  see  thy  sign  in  the  glow  of  the  sunset. 

The  fairest  of  girls  is  she,  75 

The  Athenian  maids  outshining, 
Or  the  Spartan  maiden  with  armor  laden, 
No  burden  of  war  declining. 

Not  by  Alpheus'  sacred  stream, 
Nor  Boeotia's  musical  water, 
Is  there  any  fair  who  can  compare  80 

With  our  lovely  Corinthian  daughter. 

Our  Thessalian  prince  excels, 
In  beauty  of  form  and  face, 
Even  Bacchus,  the  son  of  the  fierce-flaming  one, 

Who  yokes  the  wild  tigers  in  place.  85 

The  murmuring  tripod's  lord, 
Though  the  fairest  in  heavenly  story, 
The  twins  with  their  star  bright  gleaming  afar — 

All  yield  to  our  Jason  in  glory.  90 

When  in  her  train  of  courtly  maidens  she  mingles — 

Like  the  bright  sunshine  paling  the  starry  splendor,  95 

Or  the  full  moonlight  quenching  the  Pleiads'  brilliance, 

So  does  she  shine,  all  peerless,  of  fair  ones  the  fairest. 

Now,  O  Jason,  freed  from  the  hateful  wedlock  100 

That  held  thee  bound  to  the  barbarous  Colchian  woman, 
Joyfully  wed  the  fair  Corinthian  maiden, 
While  at  last  her  parents'  blessings  attend  thee.  105 


86  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Ho  then,  youths,  with  licensed  jest  and  rejoicing, 
|  Loud  kt  the  songs  of  gladness  ring  through  the  city; 
Rarely  against  our  lords  such  freedom  is  given. 

Fair  and  noble  hand  of  Bacchus,  the  thyrsus-bearer,  no 

Now  is  the  time  to  light  die  glittering  torches  of  pinewood. 
Shake  on  high  the  festal  fire  with  languishing  fingers; 

Now  let  the  hold  and  merry  lYsannine  laughter  and  jesting 

Sound  through  our  ranks.     Let  Medea  fare  in  silence  and  darkness, 

If  perchance  another  lord  she  shall  wed  in  her  exile.  115 

ACT  II 

.\fnlra:    We  are  undone!     How  harsh  upon  mine  ears  doth  grate 
The  song!  and  even  now  I  cannot  comprehend 
The  vast  extent  of  woe  that  hath  befallen  me. 
Could  Jason  prove  so  false  ?     Bereft  of  native  land, 
And  home,  and  kingdom,  could  he  leave  me  here  alone 
On  foreign  shores?     Oh,  cruel,  could  he  quite  reject  120 

My  sum  of  service,  he  who  saw  the  fire  and  sea 
With  crime  o'ercome  for  his  dear  sake  ?     And  does  he  think 
That  thus  the  fatal  chapter  can  be  ended  ?     Wild, 
^  Devoid  of  reason,  sick  of  soul,  my  swift  mind  darts 
In  all  directions  seeking  whence  revenge  may  come! 
I  would  he  had  a  brother !     But  his  wife — 'gainst  her  125 

Be  aimed  the  blow !     Can  thus  my  wrongs  be  satisfied  ? 
Nay,  nay — to  meet  my  sum  of  woe  must  be  heaped  high 
The  crimes  of  Greece,  of  strange  barbaric  lands,  and  those 
Which  even  thy  hands  have  not  known.     Now  lash  thy  soul 
With  memory's  scourge,  and  call  thy  dark  deeds  in  review:      130 
The  glory  of  thy  father's  kingdom  reft  away; 
Thy  brother,  guiltless  comrade  of  thy  guilty  flight, 
All  hewn  in  pieces  and  his  corpse  strewn  on  the  deep, 
To  break  his  royal  father's  heart;    and,  last  of  crimes, 
Old  Pelias  by  his  daughters  slain  at  thy  command.  135 

O  impious  one,  what  streams  of  blood  have  flowed  to  work 
Thy  ends !    And  yet,  not  one  of  all  my  crimes  by  wrath 
Was  prompted.     Loye,  ill-omened  love,  suggested  all. 
Yet,  what  could  Jason  else  have  done,  compelled  to  serve 
Another's  will,  another's  law  ?    He  should  have  died 


Medea 


87 


Nurse: 


Medea, 


Nurse: 

:'  Medea. 
'^'^Nursr: 
Medea: 
Nurse: 
Medea: 
Nurse: 

Medea: 

Nurse: 
Medea: 
Nurse: 
Medea: 
Xitrse: 
Medea: 
Nurse: 


Before  he  yielded  to  the  tyrant's  will.     Nay,  nay,  140 

Thou  raging  passion,  speak  not  so!     For,  if  he  may, 

I  would  that  Jason  still  may  live  and  still  be  mine, 

As  once  he  was;   if  not,  yet  may  he  still  live  on, 

And,  mindful  of  my  merits,  live  without  my  aid. 

The  guilt  is  Creon's  all,  who  with  unbridled  power 

Dissolves  the  marriage  bond,  my  children  separates  145 

From  me  who  bore  them,  yea,  and  makes  the  strongest  pledge, 

Though  ratified  with  straightcst  oath,  of  none  effect. 

Let  him  alone  sustain  my  wrath;   let  Creon  pay  • 

The  debt  of  guilt  he  owes!     His  palace  will  I  bring 

To  utter  desolation;   and  the  whirling  fire 

To  far-off  Malea's  crags  shall  send  its  lurid  glare.  150 

Be  silent  now,  I  pray  thee,  and  thy  plaints  confine 

/To  secret  woe !     The  man  who  heavy  blows  can  bear 

Jin  silence,  biding  still  his  time  with  patient  soul, 
Full  oft  his  vengeance  gains.     'Tis  hidden  wrath  that  harms; 
But  hate  proclaimed  oft  loses  half  its  power  to  harm. 
But  small  the  grief  is  that  can  counsel  take  and  hide 
Its  head;  great  ills  lie  not  in  hiding,  but  must  rush  155 

Abroad  and  work  their  will. 

Oh,  cease  this  mad  complaint, 
My  mistress;  scarce  can  friendly  silence  help  thee  now. 

VBut  fortune  fears  the  brave,  the  faint  of  heart  o'erwlielms. 

^Thcn  valor  be  approved,  if  for  it  still  there's  room.  160 

I  But  it  must  always  be  that  valor  finds  its  place. 
No  star  of  hope  points  out  the  way  from  these  our  woes. 

;  The  man  who  hopes  for  naught  at  least  has  naught  to  fear. 
The  Colchians  are  thy  foes;  thy  husband's  vows  nave  failed; 
Of  all  thy  vast  possessions  not  a  jot  is  left.  165 

Yet  I  am  left.     There's  left  both  sea  and  land  and  fire 
And  sword  and  gods  and  hurtling  thunderbolts. 
The  king  must  be  revered. 

My  father  was  a  king. 
Dost  thou  not  fear  ? 

Not  though  the  earth  produced  the  foe. 
Thou'lt  perish.  170 

So  I  wish  it. 

Flee! 


88 


T  n  ]•:    Tragedies    or    S  i:  n  f.  c  a 


Medea:  I'm  done  with  Bight.1 

Why  should  Medea  See? 
Xurse:  Thy  children  I 

Medea:  Whose,  thou  know'st. 

\  :trse:    And  dost  thou  still  delay? 

Medea:  I  go,  but  vengeance  first. 

Nurse:    Th'  avenger  will  pursue. 

Medea:  Perchance  I'll  stop  his  course. 

Nurse:     Nay,  hold  thy  words,  and  cease  thy  threats,  O  foolish  one. 

Thy  temper  curb;    'tis  well  to  yield  to  fate's  decrees.  175 

^\\j\>  .l/V</<-</.--(  Though  fair  may  sj rJlLmiI ^  a-U  mJi  myself  am  left.s/ 

But  who  Sings  wide  the  royal  palace  doors?     Behold, 

'Tis  Creon's  self,  exalted  high  in  Grecian  sway. 

I  Medea  retires  to  hack  of  stage;  exit  Nurse;  enter  Creon.] 
Creon:     Medea,  baleful  daughter  of  the  Colchian  king, 

Has  not  yet  taken  her  hateful  presence  from  our  realm.  180 

On  mischief  is  she  bent.     Well  known  her  treach'rous  power. 

For  who  escapes  her  ?     Who  may  pass  his  days  in  peace  ? 

This  cursed  pestilence  at  once  would  I  have  stayed 

By  force  of  arms;    but  Jason's  prayers  prevailed.     She  still 
I  May  live,  but  let  her  free  my  borders  from  the  fear  185 

I  Her  presence  genders,  and  her  safety  gain  by  flight. 
[He  sees  Medea  approaching.] 

But  lo,  she  comes,  with  fierce  and  threatening  mien,  to  seek 

A.n  audience  with  us. 

[To  attendants.] 
Slaves  defend  us  from  her  touch 

And  pestilential  presence !     Bid  her  silence  keep, 

And  learn  to  yield  obedience  to  the  king's  commands.  190 

[To  Medea.] 

Go,  speed  thy  flight,  thou  thing  of  evil,  fell,  and  monstrous! 
Medea:    But  tell  me  what  the  crime,  my  lord,  or  what  the  guilt 

That  merits  exile  ? 
Creon:  Let  the  guiltless  question  thus. 

Medea:    If  now  thou  judgest,  hear  me;  if  thou  reign'st,  command.2 
Creon:     The  king's  command  thou  must  abide,  nor  question  aught.        195 
Medea:     Unrighteous  sovereignty  has  never  long  endured. 

1  Reading.  Medea  fugiam,  as  a  continuation  of  Medea's  speech. 
•  Retaining  si  regnas,  tube  in  Medea's  speech. 


Medea  89 

Creon:      Go  hence,  and  to  the  Colchians  complain. 

Medea:  I  go, 

But  let  him  take  me  hence  who  brought  me  to  thy  shores. 

Creon:     Thy  prayer  has  come  too  late,  for  fixed  is  my  decree. 

Medea:    Who  judges,  and  denies  his  ear  to  either  side, 

Though  right  his  judgment,  still  is  he  himself  unjust.  200 

Creon:     Didst  lend  thine  ear  to  Pelias,  ere  thou  judgedst  him  ? 

But  come,  I'll  give  thee  grace  to  plead  thy  goodly  cause. 

Medea:    How  hard  the  task  to  turn  the  soul  from  wrath,  when  once 
To  wrath  inclined;  how  'tis  the  creed  of  sceptered  kings 
To  swerve  not  from  the  purposed  course  they  once  have  taken,    205 
Full  well  I  know,  for  I  have  tasted  royalty. 
For,  though  by  present  storms  of  ill  I'm  overwhelmed, 
An  exile,  suppliant,  lone,  forsaken,  all  forlorn, 
I  once  in  happier  times  a  royal  princess  shone, 
•f  And  traced  my  proud  descent  from  heavenly  Phoebus'  self.        210 
My  father's  realm  extended  wide  o'er  all  the  land 
Where  Phasis'  gentle  waters  flow,  o'er  Scythia's  plains 
Whose  rivers  sweeten  Pontus'  briny  waves;   where,  too, 
Thermodon's  banks  inclose  the  race  of  warlike  maids, 
Whose  gleaming  shields  strike  terror  to  their  foes.     All  this     215 
My  father  held  in  sway.     And  I,  of  noble  birth, 
And  blessed  of  heaven,  in  royal  state  was  high  upraised. 
Then  princes  humbly  sought  my  hand  in  wedlock,  mine, 
Who  now  must  sue.     O  changeful  fortune,  thou  my  throne       220 
Hast  reft  away,  and  given  me  exile  in  its  stead. 
Trust  not  in  kingly  realms,  since  fickle  chance  may  strew    * 
Their  treasures  to  the  winds.     Lo,  this  is  regal,  this 
The  work  of  kings,  which  time  nor  change  cannot  undo: 
To  succor  the  afflicted,  to  provide  at  need  225 

A  trusty  refuge  for  the  suppliant.     This  alone 
I  brought  of  all  my  Colchian  treasure,  this  renown, 
This  very  flower  of  fame,1  that  by  my  arts  I  saved 
The  bulwark  of  the  Greeks,  the  offspring  of  the  gods. 
My  princely  gift  to  Greece  is  Orpheus,  that  sweet  bard  230 

Who  can  the  trees  in  willing  bondage  draw,  and  melt 
The  crag's  hard  heart.     Mine  too  arc  Boreas'  winged  sons, 
And  Leda's  heaven-born  progeny,  and  Lynceus,  he, 

1  Reading,  gloriae. 


go  Tim     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Whose  glance  can  pierce  the  distant  view — yea,  all  the  Greeks, 
Save  Jason;    for  I  mention  not  the  king  of  kings, 
The  leader  of  the  leaders;    he  is  mine  alone, 
My  labor's  reeomi>ense;    the  rest  I  give  to  you.  235 

Nay,  conic,  ()  king,  arraign  me,  and  rehearse  my  crimes. 
But  stay!  for  I'll  confess  them  all.     The  only  crime 
(  )f  which  I  stand  act  used  is  this — the  Argo  saved. 
Suppose  my  maiden  scruples  had  opposed  the  deed; 
Suppose  my  filial  piety  had  stayed  my  hand: 
Then  had  the  mighty  chieftains  fall'n,  and  in  their  fate 
All  Greece  had  been  o'erwhelmed;  then  this,  thy  son-indaw,       240 
Had  felt  the  bull's  consuming  breath,  and  perished  there. 
Nay,  nay,  let  fortune,  when  she  will,  my  doom  decree; 
I  glory  still  that  kings  have  owed  their  lives  to  me. 
But  what  reward  I  reap  for  all  my  glorious  deeds 
Is  in  thy  hands.     Convict  me,  if  thou  wilt,  of  sin,  245 

But  give  him  back  for  whom  I  sinned.     O  Creon,  see, 
I  own  that  I  am  guilty.     This  much  thou  didst  know, 
When  first  I  clasped  thy  knees,  a  humble  suppliant, 
And  sought  the  shelter  of  thy  royal  clemency. 
Some  little  corner  of  thy  kingdom  now  I  ask, 
In  which  to  hide  my  grief.     If  I  must  flee  again,  250 

Oh,  let  some  nook  remote  within  thy  broad  domain 
Be  found  for  me ! 
Crcon:  That  I  my  power  in  mercy  wield, 

And  spurn  not  those  who  seek  my  aid  let  Jason's  self 
My  witness  be,  who,  exiled,  overwhelmed  by  fate,  255 

And  smitten  sore  with  fear,  a  refuge  found  with  me. 
1  For  lo,  Thessalia's  monarch,  bent  on  vengeance  dire, 
Seeks  Jason  at  my  hand.     The  cause,  indeed,  is  just: 
For  that  his  sire,  o'erburdened  with  the  weight  of  years, 
Was  foully  taken  off,  while  by  thy  wicked  guile  260 

His  guileless  sisters'  hands  were  nerved  to  do  the  deed. 
If  now  our  Jason  can  unlink  his  cause  from  thine, 
'Tis  easy  his  defense  to  make,  for  on  his  hands 
No  stain  of  blood  is  found.     His  arm  no  sword  upraised, 
And  he  has  had  no  part  nor  lot  in  this  thy  crime.  265 

No,  thou  and  thou  alone  the  arch  contriver  art, 
Uniting  in  thy  person  woman's  fertile  wit 


Medea 


9i 


And  man's  effective  strength;  while  in  thy  reckless  heart 

No  thought  of  reputation  dwells  to  check  thy  hand. 
!>Then  go  thou  hence  and  purge  our  kingdom  of  its  stain; 

Bear  hence  thy  deadly  poisons;  free  the  citizens  270 

From  fear;  abiding  in  some  other  land  than  this, 

Outwear  the  patience  of  the  gods. 
Medea:  Thou  bid'st  me  flee? 

Then  give  me  back  my  bark  wherein  to  flee.     Restore 

The  partner  of  my  flight !     Why  should  I  flee  alone  ? 

I  came  not  thus.     Or  if  avenging  war  thou  fear'st, 

Then  banish  both  the  culprits;   why  distinguish  me  275 

From  Jason?     'Twas  for  him  old  Pelias  was  o'ercome; 

For  him  the  flight,  the  plunder  of  my  father's  realm, 

My  sire  forsaken  and  my  infant  brother  slain, 

And  all  the  guilt  that  love  suggests;  'twas  all  for  him. 

Deep  dyed  in  sin  am  I,  but  on  my  guilty  soul  280 

The  sin  of  profit  lieth  not. 
Creon:  Why  seek  delay 

By  speech  ?    Too  long  thou  tarriest. 
Medea:  I  go,  but  grant 

This  last  request:   let  not  the  mother's  fall  o'erwhelm 

Her  hapless  babes. 
Creon:  Then  go  in  peace.     For  I  to  them 

A  father's  place  will  fill,  and  take  them  to  my  heart. 
Medea:    Now  by  the  fair  hopes  born  upon  this  wedding  day,  285 

And  by  thy  hopes  of  lasting  sovereignty  secure 

From  changeful  fate's  assault,  I  pray  thee  grant  from  flight 

A  respite  brief,  while  I  upon  my  children's  lips 

A  mother's  kiss  imprint,  perchance  the  last. 
Creon:  A  time 

Thou  seek'st  for  treachery.  290 

Medea:  What  fraud  can  be  devised 

In  one  short  hour  ? 
Creon:  To  those  on  mischief  bent,  be  sure. 

The  briefest  time  is  fraught  with  mischief's  fatal  power. 
Medea:    Dost  thou  refuse  me,  then,  one  little  space  for  tears  ? 
I  Creon:     Though  deep-ingrafted  fear  would  fain  resist  thy  plea, 

A  single  day  I'll  give  thee  ere  my  sentence  holds.  295 

Medea:    Too  gracious  thou.     But  let  my  respite  further  shrink, 


92 


Till        T  R  A  G  EDIES      OF      S  E  N  E  C  A 


L'rcoii: 


Chorus: 


And  I'll  depart  content. 

Thy  life  shall  surely  pay 
The  forfeit  if  tomorrow's  sun  beholds  thee  still 

In  Corinth.      Hut  the  voice  of  1 l\  m.  n  calls  away 
To  solemnize  the  rites  of  this  his  festal  day. 

[Exeunt.] 


300 


i 


Too  bold  the  man  who  first  upon  the  seas, 
The  treacherous  seas,  his  fragile  bark  confided; 
Who,  as  the  well-known  shore  behind  him  glided, 

His  life  intrusted  to  the  fickle  breeze; 

And,  as  his  unknowrn  seaward  course  he  sped 
Within  his  slender  craft  with  foolish  daring, 
Midway  'twixt  life  and  death  went  onward  faring, 

Along  the  perilous  narrow  margin  led. 

Not  yet  were  sparkling  constellations  known, 
Or  sky,  all  spangled  with  the  starry  glory; 
Not  yet  could  sailors  read  the  warning  story 

By  stormy  Hyades  upon  the  heavens  thrown. 

Not  yet  was  Zeus's  foster-mother  famed, 
.Nor  slow  Bootes  round  the  north  star  wheeling; 
■I  Nor  Boreas  nor  Zephyr  gently  stealing, 

Each  feared  or  welcomed,  though  as  yet  unnamed. 

First  Tiphys  dared  to  spread  his  venturous  sail, 
I  The  hidden  lesson  of  the  breezes  learning, 
I  Now  all  his  canvas  to  the  Zephyrs  turning, 

Now  shifting  all  to  catch  the  changing  gale. 

Now  midway  on  the  mast  the  yard  remains, 
Now  at  the  head  with  all  its  canvas  drawing, 
While  eager  sailors  lure  the  breezes  blowing, 

And  over  all  the  gleaming  topsail  strains. 

The  guiltless  golden  age  our  fathers  saw, 
When  youth  and  age  the  same  horizon  bounded; 
No  greed  of  gain  their  simple  hearts  confounded; 

Their  native  wealth  enough,  'twas  all  they  knew. 


3°5 


310 


3*5 


320 


325 


33° 


Medea  93 

But  lo,  the  severed  worlds  have  been  brought  near 
And  linked  in  one  by  Argo's  hand  uniting; 
While  seas  endure  the  oar's  unwonted  smiting,  335 

And  add  their  fury  to  the  primal  fear. 

•  This  impious  bark  its  guilt  in  dread  atoned  340 

When  clashing  mountains  were  together  driven, 
And  sea,  from  sea  in  mighty  conflict  riven, 

The  stars  besprinkled  with  the  leaping  foam.  345 

Amid  these  perils  sturdy  Tiphys  paled, 
And  from  his  nerveless  hand  the  vessel  bounded; 
While  stricken  Orpheus'  lyre  no  more  resounded, 

And  tuneful  Argo's  warning  message  failed. 

What  sinking  terror  filled  each  quaking  breast, 
When  near  the  borders  of  sea-girt  Pelorus,  350 

There  smote  upon  their  ears  the  horrid  chorus 

Of  Scylla's  baying  wolves  around  them  pressed. 

What  terror  when  they  neared  the  Sirens'  lair,  355 

Who  soothe  the  troubled  waves  with  witching  measures! 
But  Orpheus  filled  their  souls  with  nobler  pleasures, 

And  left  the  foe  in  impotent  despair.  360 

And  of  this  wild  adventure  what  the  prize, 
That  lured  the  daring  bark  with  heroes  laden  ? 
The  fleece  of  gold,  and  this  mad  Colchian  maiden, 

Well  fit  to  be  the  first  ship's  merchandize. 

The  sea,  subdued,  the  victor's  law  obeys;  365 

No  vessel  needs  a  goddess'  art  in  framing, 
Nor  oars  in  heroes'  hands,  the  ocean  taming: 

The  frailest  craft  now  dares  the  roughest  waves. 

Xow,  every  bound  removed,  new  cities  rise  370 

In  lands  remote,  their  ancient  walls  removing; 
While  men  of  Ind  by  Caspian  shores  are  roving, 

And  Persia's  face  now  greets  the  western  skies.  375 

The  time  will  come,  as  lapsing  ages  flee, 
When  every  land  shall  yield  its  hidden  treasure; 
When  men  no  more  shall  unknown  courses  measure, 

For  round  the  world  no  "farthest  land"  shall  be. 


<)\  Tin     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

ACT  III 

[Medea  is   rushing  out  to  seek  vengeance,  while  the  Nurse  tries  in  vain 

(  to  restrain  her.] 

Nurse:    My  Coster-daughter,  whither  speedesl  thou  abroad?  380 

Oh,  stay,  I  pray  thee,  and  restrain  thy  passion's  force. 
[  Medea  hastens  by  without  answering.     The  Nurse  soliloquises.  \ 
As  some  wild  Bacchanal,  whose  fury's  raging  fire 
The  god  inflames,  now  roams  distraught  on  Pindus'  snows, 
And  now  on  lofty  Nysa's  rugged  slopes;   so  she,  385 

Now  here,  now  there,  with  frenzied  step  is  hurried  on, 
Her  face  revealing  every  mark  of  stricken  woe, 
With  flushing  cheek  and  sighs  deep  drawn,  wild  cries,  and  tears, 
And  laughter  worse  than  tears.     In  her  a  medley  strange 
Of  every  passion  may  be  seen:  o'ertopping  wrath,  390 

Bewailings,   bitter  groans  of  anguish.     Whither   tends 
This  overburdened  soul?     What  mean  her  frenzied  threats? 
When  will  the  foaming  wave  of  fury  spend  itself? 
No  common  crime,  I  fear,  no  easy  deed  of  ill 
She  meditates.     Herself  she  will  outvie.     For  well 
I  recognize  the  wonted  marks  of  rage.     Some  deed 
Is  threatening,  wild,  profane,  and  hideous.  395 

[Re-enter  Medea.] 

Behold 
^Her  face  betrays  her  madness.     O  ye  gods,  may  these 
Our  fears  prove  vain  forebodings! 
Medea  [not  noticing  the  Nurse's  presence]:     For  thy  hate,  poor  soul, 
Dost  thou  a  measure  seek?     Let  it  be  deep  as  love. 
And  shall  I  tamely  view  the  wedding  torches's  glare  ? 
And  shall  this  day  go  uneventful  by,  this  day, 
So  hardly  won,  so  grudgingly  bestowed  ?     Nay,  nay,  400 

While,  poised  upon  her  heights,  the  central  earth  shall  bear 
The  heavens  up;  while  seasons  run  their  endless  round, 
And  sands  unnumbered  lie;   while  days,  and  nights,  and  sun, 
And  stars  in  due  procession  pass;   while  round  the  pole 
The  ocean-fearing  bears  revolve,  and  tumbling  streams 
Flow  downward  to  the  sea;   my  grief  shall  never  cease  405 

To  seek  revenge,  and  shall  forever  grow.     What  rage 
Of  savage  beast  can  equal  mine  ?    What  Scylla  famed  ? 


Medea 


95 


415 


420 


What  sea-engulfing  pool?     What  burning  Aetna  placed 
On  impious  Titan's  heaving  breast?     No  torrent  stream,       410 
Nor  storm-tossed  sea,  nor  breath  of  flame  fanned  by  the  gale, 
Can  cluck  or  equal  my  wild  storm  of  rage.     My  will 
j  Is  set  on  limitless  revenge! 

Will  Jason  say 
He  feared  the  power  of  Creon  and  Acastus'  threats  ? 
True  love  is  proof  against  the  fear  of  man.     But  grant 
He  was  compelled  to  yield,  and  pledged  his  hand  in  fear: 
He  might  at  least  have  sought  his  wife  with  one  last  word 
Of  comfort  and  farewell.     But  this,  though  brave  in  heart, 
I  le  feared  to  do.     The  cruel  terms  of  banishment 
Could  Creon's  son-in-law  not  soften  ?     No.     One  day 
Alone  was  giv'n  for  last  farewell  to  both  my  babes. 
But  time's  short  space  I'll  not  bewail;  though  brief  in  hours, 
In  consequence  it  stretches  out  eternally. 
This  day  shall  see  a  deed  that  ne'er  shall  be  forgot. 
But  now  I'll  go  and  pray  the  gods,  and  move  high  heaven        425 
But  I  shall  work  my  will ! 

Thy  heart  all  passion -tossed, 
I  pray  thee,  mistress,  soothe,  and  calm  thy  troubled  soul. 
My  troubled  soul  can  never  know  a  time  of  rest 
Until  it  sees  all  things  o'erwhelmed  in  common  doom. 
All  must  go  down  with  me!     'Tis  sweet  such  death  to  die. 
[Exit  Medea.] 

Nurse  [calling  after  her]:     Oh,  think  what  perils  thou  must  meet  if 
thou  persist! 
No  one  with  safety  may  defy  a  sceptered  king. 
[Enter  Jason.] 

Jason:     O  heartless  fate,  if  frowns  or  smiles  bedeck  thy  brow, 
How  often  are  thy  cures  far  worse  than  the  disease 
They  seek  to  cure!     If,  now,  I  wish  to  keep  the  troth 
I  plighted  to  my  lawful  bride,  my  life  must  pay 
The  forfeit;   if  I  shrink  from  death,  my  guilty  soul 
Must  perjured  be.     I  fear  no  power  that  man  can  wield; 
But  in  my  heart  paternal  love  unmans  me  quite; 
For  well  I  know  that  in  my  death  my  children's  fate 
Is  sealed.     O  sacred  Justice,  if  in  heaven  thou  dwell'st, 
Be  witness  now,  that  for  my  children's  sake  I  act. 


Nurse: 


Medea: 


43° 


435 


440 


96  'I'll  B      T  R  A  G  BDIES     OF      S  E  N  E  C  A 

Nay,  sure  am  I  that  even  she,  Medea's  self, 
Though  fierce  she  is  of  soul  and  brooking  no  restraint, 
Will  Bee  her  children's  good  outweighing  all  her  wrongs. 
With  this  good  argument  my  purpose  now  is  fixed,  445 

In  humble  wise  to  brave  her  wrath. 
[Enter  Medea.] 

At  sight  of  me 
Her  raging  fury  flames  anew!     Hate,  like  a  shield, 
She  bears,  and  in  her  face  is  pictured  all  her  woe. 
Medea:    Thou  sce'st,  Jason,  that  we  flee.     'Tis  no  new  thing 
To  sutler  exile,  but  the  cause  of  flight  is  strange; 
For  with  thee  I  was  wont  to  flee,  not  from  thee.     Yes, 
I  go.     But  whither  dost  thou  send  me  whom  thou  driv'st  450 

From  out  thy  home  ?     Shall  I  the  Colchians  seek  again, 
My  royal  father's  realm,  whose  soil  is  steeped  in  blood 
My  brother  shed  ?     What  country  dost  thou  bid  me  seek  ? 
What  way  by  sea  is  open  ?     Shall  I  fare  again 
Where  once  I  saved  the  noble  kings  of  Greece,  and  thee,  455 

Thou  wanton,  through  the  threatening  jaws  of  Pontus'  strait, 
The  blue  Symplegades  ?     Or  shall  I  hie  me  back 
To  fair  Thessalia's  realms  ?     Lo,  all  the  doors  which  I, 
For  thee,  have  opened  wide,  I've  closed  upon  myself. 
But  whither  dost  thou  send  me  now  ?    Thou  bid'st  me  flee,      460 
But  show'st  no  way  or  means  of  flight. 

But  'tis  enough: 
The  king's  own  son-in-law  commands  and  I  obey. 
Come,  heap  thy  torments  on  me;  I  deserve  them  all. 
Let  royal  wrath  oppress  me,  wanton  that  I  am, 
With  cruel  hand,  and  load  my  guilty  limbs  with  chains; 
And  let  me  be  immured  in  dungeons  black  as  night:  465 

Still  will  my  punishment  be  less  than  my  offense. 
O  ingrate !  hast  thou  then  forgot  the  brazen  bull, 
And  his  consuming  breath  ?  the  fear  that  smote  thee,  when, 
Upon  the  field  of  Mars,  the  earth-born  brood  stood  forth 
To  meet  thy  single  sword  ?     'Twas  by  my  arts  that  they,        470 
The  monsters,  fell  by  mutual  blows.     Remember,  too, 
The  long-sought  fleece  of  gold  I  won  for  thee,  whose  guard, 
The  dragon  huge,  was  lulled  to  rest  at  my  command; 
My  brother  slain  for  thee.     For  thee  old  Pelias  fell,  475 


Medea 


97 


When,  taken  by  my  guile,  his  daughters  slew  their  sire, 
Whose  life  could  not  return.     All  this  I  did  for  thee. 
In  quest  of  thine  advantage  have  I  quite  forgot 
Mine  own. 

And  now,  by  all  thy  fond  paternal  hopes, 
By  thine  established  house,  by  all  the  monsters  slain  480 

For  thee,  by  these  my  hands  which  I  have  ever  held 
To  work  thy  will,  by  all  the  perils  past,  by  heaven 
And  sea  that  witnessed  at  my  wedlock,  pity  me ! 
Since  thou  art  blessed,  restore  me  what  I  lost  for  thee:-^ 
That  countless  treasure  plundered  from  the  swarthy  tribes 
Of  India,  which  filled  our  goodly  vaults  with  wealth,  485 

And  decked  our  very  trees  with  gold.     This  costly  store 
I  left  for  thee,  my  native  land,  my  brother,  sire, 
My  reputation — all;    and  with  this  dower  I  came. 
If  now  to  homeless  exile  thou  dost  send  me  forth, 
Give  back  the  countless  treasures  which  I  left  for  thee.  490 

Jason:     Though  Creon  in  a  vengeful  mood  would  have  thy  life, 
I  moved  him  by  my  tears  to  grant  thee  flight  instead. 

Medea:    I  thought  my  exile  punishment;   'tis  now,  I  see, 
A  gracious  boon ! 

Jason:  Oh,  flee  while  still  the  respite  holds; 

Provoke  him  not,  for  deadly  is  the  wrath  of  kings.  495 

Medea;    Not  so.     'Tis  for  Creiisa's  love  thou  sayest  this; 

Thou  wouldst  remove  the  hated  wanton  once  thy  wife. 

Jason:    Dost  thou  reproach  me  with  a  guilty  love  ? 

Medea:  Yea,  that, 

And  murder  too,  and  treachery. 

Jason:  But  name  me  now, 

If  so  thou  canst,  the  crimes  that  I  have  done. 

Medea:  Thy  crimes- 

Whatever  I  have  done. 

Jason:  Why  then,  in  truth,  thy  guilt 

Must  all  be  mine,  if  all  thy  crimes  are  mine.  500 

Medea:  They  are, 

They  are  all  thine ;  for  who  by  sin  advantage  gains, 
Commits  the  sin.     All  men  proclaim  thy  wife  defiled. 
Do  thou  thyself  protect  her,  and  condone  her  sin. 
Let  her  be  guiltless  in  thine  eyes  who  for  thy  gain 


«)S 


T  11   1        T  R  A  C,  V.  1)  I  F.  S      O  1'       S  INI    I"  A 


7  :  <>;/.• 

Medea: 
Jason: 

Medea: 


Jason: 
Medea: 


J a  ton: 

Medea: 
Jason: 

Medea : 
Jason: 

Medea: 


Jason: 

Medea: 
Jason: 


Medea. 


Jason: 


Medea: 


1 1  -  sinned. 

But  gifts  which  sin  has  bought  'twere  shame  to  lake. 
Why  keep'sl  thou  then  the  gifts  which  it  were  shame  to  take  ?     505 
Nay,  curb  thy  fiery  soul!    Thy  children— for  their  sake 

Be  calm. 

My  children  I    Them  I  do  refuse,  reject, 
Renounce]    Shall  then  Creusa  brothers  hear  to  these 
My  children  ? 

But  the  queen  can  aid  thy  wretched  sons. 
May  that  day  never  dawn,  that  day  of  shame  and  woe,  510 

When  in  one  house  are  joined  the  low  born  and  the  high, 
The  sons  of  that  foul  robber  Sisyphus,  and  these, 
\The  sons  of  Phoebus. 

Wretched  one,  and  wilt  thou  then 
Involve  me  also  in  thy  fall  ?     Begone,  I  pray. 
Creon  hath  heard  my  prayer. 

What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  ?  515 
For  me  ?     I'd  have  thee  dare  the  law. 

The  royal  power 
Doth  compass  me. 

A  greater  than  the  king  is  here: 
Medea.     Set  us  front  to  front  and  let  us  strive; 
And  of  this  royal  strife  let  Jason  be  the  prize. 
O'erwearied  by  my  woes  I  yield.     But  be  thou  ware, 
Medea,  lest  too  often  thou  shouldst  tempt  thy  fate.  520 

Yet  fortune's  mistress  have  I  ever  been. 

But  see, 
With  hostile  front  Acastus  comes,  on  vengeance  bent, 
While  Creon  threatens  instant  death. 

Then  flee  them  both. 
I  ask  thee  not  to  draw  thy  sword  against  the  king 
1  Nor  yet  to  stain  thy  pious  hands  with  kindred  blood. 
Come,  flee  with  me. 

But  what  resistance  can  we  make,  525 

If  war  with  double  visage  rear  his  horrid  front, 
If  Creon  and  Acastus  join  in  common  cause? 
Add,  too,  the  Colchian  armies  with  my  father's  self 
To  lead  them;  join  the  Scythian  and  Pelasgian  hordes: 
In  one  deep  gulf  of  ruin  will  I  whelm  them  all. 


Medea 


99 


Jason:     Yet  on  the  scepter  do  I  look  with  fear. 
Medea:  Beware, 

Lest  not  the  fear,  but  lust  of  power  prevail  with  thee. 

Jason:     Too  long  we  strive:   have  done,  lest  we  suspicion  breed.         530 

Medea:    Now  Jove,  throughout  thy  heavens  let  the  thunders  roll ! 
Thy  mighty  arm  in  wrath  make  bare !     Thy  darting  flames 
Of  vengeance  loose,  and  shake  the  lofty  firmament 
With  rending  storms!     At  random  hurl  thy  vengeful  bolts, 
Selecting  neither  me  nor  Jason  with  thy  aim; 
That  thus  whoever  falls  may  perish  with  the  brand  535 

Of  guilt  upon  him;   for  thy  hurtling  darts  can  take 
No  erring  flight. 

Jason:  Recall  thee  and  in  calmness  speak 

With  words  of  peace  and  reason.     Then  if  any  gift 
From  Creon's  royal  house  can  compensate  thy  woes, 
Take  that  as  solace  of  thy  flight. 

Medea:  My  soul  doth  scorn  540 

The  wealth  of  kings.  But  let  me  have  my  little  ones 
As  comrades  of  my  flight,  that  in  their  childish  breasts 
Their  mother's  tears  may  flow.     New  sons  await  thy  home. 

Jason:     My  heart  inclines  to  yield  to  thee,  but  love  forbids. 

For  these  my  sons  shall  never  from  my  arms  be  reft,  545 

Though  Creon's  self  demand.     My  very  spring  of  life, 
My  sore  heart's  comfort,  and  my  joy  are  these  my  sons; 
And  sooner  could  I  part  with  limbs  or  vital  breath, 
Or  light   of  life. 

Medea  [aside]:  Doth  he  thus  love  his  sons ?     'Tis  well; 

Then  is  he  bound,  and  in  his  armored  strength  this  Haw  550 

Reveals  the  place  to  strike. 

[To  Jason.] 

At  least,  ere  I  depart, 
Grant  me  this  last  request:  let  me  once  more  embrai  e 
My  sons.     E'en  that  small  boon  will  comfort  my  sad  heart. 
And  this  my  latest  prayer  to  thee:    if,  in  my  grief, 
My  tongue  was  over  bold,  let  nol  my  words  remain  555 

To  rankle  in  thy  heart.      Remember  happier  things 
Of  me,  and  let  my  bitter  words  be  straight  forgot. 

Jason:      Not  one  shall  linger  in  my  soul;  and  1  urb,  I  pray, 
j  Thy  too  impetuous  heart,  and  gently  yield  to  fate. 


ioo  T  ii  k     T  R  A  <:  r  D  i  l.  s     o  1      S  i   \  i:  c  A 


For  resignation  ever  soothes  the  woeful  bouI. 

[Exit  Jason.] 

Medea:    He's  gone  I    And  can  it  Ik*?    And  shall  he  thus  depart,     560 
Forgetting  me  and  all  my  Bervice?    Must  I  drop, 
Like  some  discarded  toy,  out  of  his  faithless  heart? 
It  shall  nol  be.     Up  then,  and  summon  all  thy  strength 
And  all  thy  skill!     And,  this  the  fruit  of  former  crime, 
Count  nothing  criminal  that  works  thy  will.      Hut  lo, 
We're  hedged  about;  scant  room  is  left  for  our  designs.  565 

Now  must  the  attack  be  made  where  least  suspicion  wakes 
The   least   resistance.     Now  Medea,  on!     and  do 
JAnd  dare  thine  utmost,  yea,  beyond  thine  utmost  power! 

[To  the  Nurse.] 
Do  thou,  my  faithful  nurse,  the  comrade  of  my  grief, 
And  all  the  devious  wanderings  of  my  checkered  course, 
Assist  me  now  in  these  my  plans.     There  is  a  robe, 
The  glory  of  our  Colchian  realm,  the  precious  gift  570 

Of  Phoebus'  self  to  king  Aeetes  as  a  proof 
Of  fatherhood;   a  gleaming  circlet,  too,  all  wrought 
With  threads  of  gold,  the  yellow  gold  bespangled  o'er 
With  gems,  a  fitting  crown  to  deck  a  princess'  head. 
These  treasures  let  Medea's  children  bear  as  gifts  575 

To  Jason's  bride.     But  first  infuse  them  with  the  power 
Of  magic,  and  invoke  the  aid  of  Hecate; 
The  woe-producing  sacrifices  then  prepare, 
And  let  the  sacred  flames  through  all  our  courts  resound. 

Chorus:  No  force  of  flame  or  raging  gale, 

Or  whizzing  bolt  so  fearful  is,  580 

As  when  a  wife,  by  her  lord  betrayed, 
Burns  hot  with  hate. 

Not  such  a  force  is  Auster's  blast, 
When  he  marshals  forth  the  wintry  storms; 
Nor  Hister's  headlong  rushing  stream, 
Which,  wrecking  bridges  in  its  course,  585 

Pours  reckless  on; 

Nor  yet  the  Rhone,  whose  current  strong 
Beats  back  the  sea;  nor  when  the  snows, 


I 


Medea  ioi 

Beneath  the  lengthening  days  of  spring 

And  the  sun's  warm  rays,  melt  down  in  streams 

From  Haemus'  top.  590 

Blind  is  the  rage  of  passion's  fire, 
Will  not  be  governed,  brooks  no  reins, 
And  scoffs  at  death;  nay,  hostile  swords 
It  gladly  courts. 

Spare,  O  ye  gods,  be  merciful,  595 

That  lie  who  tamed  the  sea  may  live. 
But  much  we  fear,  for  the  lord  of  the  deep 
Is  wroth  that  his  realm  of  the  second  lot 
Should  be  subdued. 

The  thoughtless  youth  who  dared  to  drive 
His  father's  sacred  chariot, 

Was  by  those  fires,  which  o'er  the  heavens  600 

He  scattered  in  his  mad  career, 
Himself  consumed. 

The  beaten  path  has  never  proved 
The  way  of  danger.  Walk  ye  then 
Where  your  forefathers  safely  trod, 

And  keep  great  nature's  holy  laws  605 

Inviolate. 

Whoever  dipped  the  famous  oars 
( )f  that  bold  bark  in  the  rushing  sea; 
Whoe'er  despoiled  old  Pelion 
Of  the  thick,  dark  shade  of  his  sacred  groves; 
Whoever  dared  the  clashing  rocks,  610 

And,  after  countless  perils  passed, 
His  vessel  moored  on  a  barbarous  shore, 
Hoping  to  fare  on  his  homeward  way 
The  master  of  the  golden  fleece, 

All  by  a  fearful  end  appeased  615 

The  offended  sea. 

First  Tiphys,  tamer  of  the  deep, 
Abandoned  to  an  untrained  hand 
His  vessel's  helm.     On  a  foreign  shore, 
Far  from  his  native  land  he  died; 


ioj  The    Trac  i   i>u  s     ok     Si-:  neca 


And  now  within  a  common  tomb,  620 

'Mi. 1st  unknown  ghosts,  be  lies  at  rest. 
In  wrathful  memory  <>t"  her  king 
Losl  on  the  sea,  did  Aulis  then 

Within   her  sluggish   harbor  hold 
The    im]iatirnt    ships. 

Then  he,  the  tuneful  Muse's  son,  625 

At  whose  Sweet  strains  the  streams  stood  still, 
The  winds  were  silent,  and  the  birds, 
Their  songs  forgotten,  flocked  to  him,' 
The  whole  wood  following  after-  he, 
Over  the  Thracian  fields  was  hurled  630 

In  scattered  fragments;    but  his  head 
Down  Hebrus'  grieving  stream  was  borne. 
The  well-remembered  Styx  he  reached, 
And  Tartarus,  whence  ne'er  again 
Would  he  return. 

The  winged  sons  of  Boreas 

Alcides  slew,  and  Neptune's  son  635 

Who  in  a  thousand  changing  forms 

Could  clothe  himself.     But  after  peace 

On  land  and  sea  had  been  proclaimed, 

And  after  savage  Pluto's  realm 

Had  been  revealed  to  mortal  eyes, 

Then   did   Alcides'   self,   alive, 

On  burning  Oeta's  top  lie  down, 

And  give  his  body  to  the  flames;  640 

Tor  sore  distressed  was  he,  consumed 
>  By  Deianira's  deadly  gift, 
k  The  double  blood. 

A  savage  boar  Ancaeus  slew; 

Thou,  Meleager,  impiously 

Thy  mother's  brother  in  wrath  didst  slay, 

And  by  that  angry  mother's  hand  645 

Didst  die.     All  these  deserved  their  death. 

But  for  what  crime  did  Hylas  die, 

A  tender  lad  whom  Hercules 


1  Reading,  cut. 


Medea  103 

Long  time  but  vainly  sought  ?     For  he, 
'Mid  waters  safe  was  done  to  death. 
Go  then,  and  fearlessly  the  deep 

Plow  with  your  daring  ships;    but  fear  650 

The  peaceful  pools. 

Idmon,  though  well  be  knew  the  fates, 
A  serpent  slew  on  Afric  sands; 
And  Mopsus,  to  all  others  true, 

False  to  himself,  died  far  from  Thebes.  655 

If  he  with  truth  the  future  sang, 
Then  Nauplius,  who  strove  to  wreck 
The  Argive  ships  by  lying  fires, 
Shall  headlong  fall  into  the  sea. 

And  for  his  father's  daring  crime  660 

Shall  Ajax,  that  Oileus'  son, 
Make  full  atonement,  perishing 
'Midst  flame  and  flood.1 

And  thou,  Admctus'  faithful  mate, 
Shalt2  for  thy  husband  pay  thy  life, 
Redeeming  his  from  death.     But  he, 
\Vbo  bade  the  first  ship  sail  in  quest  665 

Of  the  golden  spoil,  King  Pelias, 
Seethed  in  a  boiling  cauldron,  swam 
'Mid   those    restricted   waves.     Enough, 
O  gods,  have  ye  avenged  the  sea: 
Spare  him,  we  pray,  who  did  but  go 
On  ordered  ways. 

ACT  IV 

Nurse  [alone):  My  spirit  trembles,  for  I  feel  the  near  approach  670 

Of  some  unseen  disaster.     Swiftly  grows  her  grief, 
/  Its  own  fires  kindling;  and  again  her  passion's  force 
Hath  leaped  to  life.     I  oft  have  seen  her,  with  the  fit 
Of  inspiration  in  her  soul,  confront  the  gods 
And  force  the  very  heavens  to  her  will.     But  now, 
A  monstrous  deed,  of  greater  moment  far  than  these,  675 

■  Reading,  with  period  after  pro/undum  and  after  Oileus. 
'  Reading,  impendes. 


104  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Miilca  is  preparing.    For,  but  now,  did  she 

Willi  step  of  ftvn/.v  hurry  olT  unlil  she  readied 

Her  stricken  home.    There,  in  her  chamber,  all  her  stores 
Of  magic  wonders  are  revealed;  once  more  she  views 
The  things  herself  hath  held  in  fear  these  many  years, 
Unloosing  one  by  one  her  ministers  of  ill, 
Occult,  unspeakable,  and  wrapt  in  mystery; 
And,  grasping  with  her  hand  the  sacred  altar-horn,  680 

With  prayers,  she  straightly  summons  all  destructive  powers, 
The  creatures  bred  in  Libya's  sands,  and  on  the  peaks 
( >f  frigid  Taurus,  clad  in  everlasting  snows. 
Obedient  to  her  potent  charms,  the  scaly  brood  685 

Of  serpents  leave  their  darksome  lairs  and  swarm  to  her; 
One  savage  creature  rolls  his  monstrous  length  along, 
And  darts  his  forked  tongue  with  its  envenomed  sting, 
Death-dealing;   at  the  charming  sound  he  stops  amazed, 
And  fold  on  fold  his  body  writhes  in  nerveless  coils.  690 

— -"But  these  are  petty  ills;   unworthy  of  my  hand," 

She  cries,  "are  such  weak,  earth-born  weapons.     Potent  charms 

Are  bred  in  heaven.     Now,  now  'tis  time  to  summon  powers 

Transcending  common  magic.     Down  I'll  draw  from  heaven 

That  serpent  huge  whose  body  lies  athwart  the  sky  695 

Like  some  great  ocean  stream,  in  whose  constricting  folds 

The  greater  and  the  lesser  Bears  are  held  enthralled, 

The  greater  set  as  guide  for  Grecian  ships,  the  less 

For  Sidon's  mariners!     Let  Ophiuchus  loose 

His  hand  and  pour  forth  venom  from  his  captive  thrall ! 

And  let  the  Python  huge,  that  dared  to  rear  its  head  700 

Against  the  heavenly  twins,  be  present  at  my  prayer! 

Let  Hydra's  writhing  heads,  which  by  Alcides'  hand 

Were  severed,  all  return  to  life  and  give  me  aid! 

Thou  too  be  near  and  leave  thy  ancient  Colchian  home, 

Thou  watchful  dragon,  to  whose  eyes  the  first  sleep  came 

In  answer  to  my  incantations." 

When  she  thus  705 

Had  summoned  all  the  serpent  brood,  she  cast  her  store 
Of  baleful  herbs  together;  all  the  poisons  brewed 
Amid  the  rocky  caves  of  trackless  Eryx;    plants 
That  flourish  on  the  snowy  peaks  of  Caucasus, 


Medea  105 

Whose  crags  were  spattered  with  Prometheus'  gore; 

the  herbs  710 

Within  whose  deadly  juice  the  Arab  dips  his  darts, 
And  the  quiver-bearing  Mcde  and  fleeing  Parthian; 
Those  potent  juices,  too,  which,  near  the  shivering  pole, 
The  Suabian  chieftains  gather  in  Hyrcanian  groves. 
The  seasons,  too,  have  paid  their  tribute  to  her  stores: 
Whatever  earth  produces  in  the  nesting  time, 
And  when  the  stiff'ning  hand  of  winter's  frost  has  stripped       715 
The  glory  from  the  trees  and  fettered  all  the  land 
With  icy  bonds;  whatever  flow'ring  plant  conceals 
Destruction  in  its  bloom,  or  in  its  twisted  roots 
Distils  the  juice  of  death,  she  gathers  to  her  use. 
These  pestilential  herbs  Haemonian  Athos  gave;  720 

And  these  on  lofty  Pindus  grew;   a  bloody  knife 
Clipped  off  these  slender  leaves  on  Macedonia's  heights; 
Still  others  grew  beside  the  Tigris,  whirling  on 
His  flood  to  meet  the  sea;  the  Danube  nourished  some; 
These  grew  on  bright  gem-starred  Hydaspes'  tepid  stream;       725 
And  these  the  Baetis  bore,  which  gave  the  land  its  name, 
Displacing  with  its  langourous  tide,  the  western  sea. 
These  felt  the  knife  when  early  dawn  begins  to  break; 
The  fruit  of  these  was  cut  in  midnight's  gloomy  hour; 
This  fatal  crop  was  reaped  with  sickle  magic-edged.  730 

These  deadly,  potent  herbs  she  takes  and  sprinkles  o'er 
With  serpent  vernom,  mixing  all;   and  in  the  broth 
She  mingles  unclean  birds:  a  wailing  screech  owl's  heart, 
A  ghastly  vampire's  vitals  torn  from  living  flesh. 
Her  magic  poisons  all  she  ranges  for  her  use.  735 

The  ravening  power  of  hidden  fire  is  held  in  these, 
I  While  deep  in  others  lurks  the  numbing  chill  of  frost. 
Now  magic  runes  she  adds  more  potent  far. 

But  lo ! 
Her  voice  resounds!  and,  as  with  maddened  step  she  comes, 
She  chants  her  charms,  while  heaven  and  earth  convulsive  rock. 
[Enter  Medea,  chanting  her  incantations.] 
Medea:    I  supplicate  the  silent  throng,  and  you,  the  gods  740 

Of  death's  sad  rites,  and  groping  chaos,  and  the  home 
Of  gloomy  Pluto,  and  the  black  abyss  of  death 


io6      Titf.  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

Girl  by  the  hanks  of  Tartarus!     Yc  storied  shades, 

Your  torments  leave  and  haste  t<>  grace  the  festival 

\i  Hymen's  call  I     Let  stop  the  whirling  wheel  that  holds 

Ixion's  limhs  and  let  him  tread  Corinthian  ground; 

Let  Tantalus  unfrighted  drink   Pircne's  stream.  745 

On  Green's  stock  alone  let  heavier  torments  fall, 

And  backward  o'er  the  rocks  let  Sisyphus  be  hurled. 

You  too,  the  seed  of  Danaiis,  whose  fruitless  toil 

The  ever-empty  urns  deride,  I  summon  you; 

This  day  requires  your  helping  hands.    Thou  radiant  moon,    750 

Night's  glorious  orb,  my  supplications  hear  and  come 

To  aid;  put  on  thy  sternest  guise,  thou  goddess  dread 

Of  triple  form!     Full  oft  have  I  with  flowing  locks, 

And  feet  unsandaled,  wandered  through  thy  darkling  groves 

And  by  thy  inspiration  summoned  forth  the  rain 

From  cloudless  skies;  the  heaving  seas  have  I  subdued,  755 

And  sent  the  vanquished  waves  to  ocean's  lowest  depths. 

At  my  command  the  sun  and  stars  together  shine, 

The  heavenly  law  reversed;   while  in  the  Arctic  sea 

The  Bears  have  plunged.     The  seasons,  too,  obey  my  will: 

I've  made  the  burning  summer  blossom  as  the  spring,  760 

And  hoary  winter  autumn's  golden  harvests  bear. 

The  Phasis  sends  his  swirling  waves  to  seek  their  source, 

And  Ister,  flowing  to  the  sea  with  many  mouths, 

His  eager  water  checks  and  sluggish  rolls  along. 

The  billows  roar,  the  mad  sea  rages,  though  the  winds  765 

All  silent  lie.     At  my  command  primeval  groves 

Have  lost  their  shade;1   the  sun,  abandoning2  the  day, 

Has  stood  in  middle  heaven;   while  falling  Hyades 

Attest  my  charms. 

But  now  thy  sacred  hour  is  come,  770 

l_  O  Phoebe.     Thine  these  bonds  with  bloody  hand  entwined 
With  ninefold  serpent  coils;  these  cords  I  offer  thee, 
Which  on  his  hybrid  limbs  Typhoeus  bore,  who  shook 
The  throne  of  Jove.     This  vessel  holds  the  dying  blood 
Of  Nessus,  faithless  porter  of  Alcides'  bride.  775 

Here  are  the  ashes  of  the  pyre  on  Oeta's  top 

1  Reading,  with  period  after  meae. 

'  Reading,  relicto,  and  substituting  comma  for  semicolon. 


Medea  107 

[Which  drank  the  poisoned  blood  of  dying  Hercules; 
And  here  the  fatal  billet  that  Althaea  burned 
In  vengeance  on  her  son.     These  plumes  the  Harpies  left         780 
Within  their  caverned  lair  when  Zetes  drove  them  forth; 
And  these  the  feathers  of  that  vile  Stymphalian  bird 
Which  arrows,  dipped  in  Lerna's  deadly  poison,  pierced. 

But  lo!    mine  altar  fires  resound! 

While  in  the  tripod's  answering  voice  785 

Behold  the  present  deity! 

I  see  the  car  of  Trivia, 

Not  full  and  clear  as  when  she  drives 

The  livelong  night  to  meet  the  dawn; 

But  with  a  baleful,  lurid  glare, 

As,  harried  by  Thessalian  cries,  790 

She  holds  a  more  restricted  course. 

Send  such  uncanny  light  abroad! 

Fill  mortals  with  a  dread  unknown; 

And  let  our  Corinth's  priceless  bronze 

Resound,  Dictynna,  for  thy  aid!  795 

To  thee  a  solemn  sacrifice 

On  bloody  altar  do  we  pay! 

To  thee,  snatched  from  the  mournful  tomb, 

The  blazing  torch  nocturnal  burns; 

On  thee  I  call  with  tossing  head,  800 

And  many  a  frantic  gesture  make; 

Corpselike  upon  the  bier  I  lie, 

My  hair  with  priestly  fillet  bound; 

Before  thy  awful  shrine  is  waved 

The  branch  in  Stygian  waters  dipped. 
And,  calling  on  thy  name,  with  gleaming  shoulders  bared,         805 
Like  Bacchus'  mad  adorers,  will  I  lash  my  arms 
With  sacrificial  knife.     Now  let  my  life-blood  flow! 
And  let  my  hands  be  used  to  draw  the  deadly  sword, 
And  learn  to  shed  belove'd  blood! 

[She  cuts  her  arm  and  lets  the  blood  flow  upon  the  altar.] 
Behold,  self-stricken  have  I  poured  the  sacrifice!  810 

But  if  too  oft  upon  thy  name  I  call, 

I  pray  forgive  this  importunity! 

The  cause,  O  Hecate,  of  all  my  prayers 


10S  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Is  ever  Jason;    this  my  constant  care.  815 

[To  attendants.] 
Take  now  Crettsa'a  bridal  robe,  and  Bteep  in  these, 
My  potent  drugs;  and  when  she  dons  the  dinging  folds, 
I. it  subtle  flames  go  stealing  through  her  inmost  heart. 
^The  fire  that  in  this  tawny  golden  circlet  lurks  820 

Prometheus  gave,  who,  for  his  daring  heavenly  theft 
In  human  aid,  endured  an  ever-living  death. 
'Twas  Vulcan  showed  the  fires  concealed  in  sulphur's  veins;       825 
While  from  my  brother  Phaethon  I  gained  a  flame 
That  never  dies;    I  have  preserved  Chimera's  breath, 
And  that  fierce  heat  that  parched  the  fiery,  brazen  bull 
Of  Colchis.     These  dread  fires  commingled  with  the  gall  830 

Of  dire  Medusa  have  I  bidden  keep  the  power 

Of  lurking  evil.     Now,  O  Hecate, 

Give  added  force  to  these  my  deadly  gifts. 

And  strictly  guard  the  hidden  seeds  of  flame. 

Let  them  deceive  the  sight,  endure  the  touch;  835 

But  through  her  veins  let  burning  fever  run; 

In  fervent  heat  consume  her  very  bones, 

And  let  her  fiercely  blazing  locks  outshine 

Her  marriage  torches!     Lo,  my  prayer  is  heard: 

Thrice  have  replied  the  hounds  of  Hecate,  840 

And  she  has  shown  her  baleful,  gleaming  fires. 

Now  all  is  ready:   hither  call  my  sons, 

And  let  them  bear  these  presents  to  the  bride. 
[Enter  sons.] 

Go,  go,  my  sons,  of  hapless  mother  born,  845 

And  win  with  costly  gifts  and  many  prayers 

The  favor  of  the  queen,  your  father's  wife. 

Begone,  but  quick  your  homeward  way  retrace, 

That  I  may  fold  you  in  a  last  embrace. 
[Exeunt  sons  toward  the  palace,  Medea  in  the  opposite  direction.] 


Chorus:         Where  hastes  this  Bacchic  fury  now, 

All  passion-swept  ?   what  evil  deed  850 

Does  her  unbridled  rage  prepare  ? 
Her  features  are  congealed  with  rage, 
And  with  a  queenly  bearing,  grand 


>s 


Medea  109 

But  terrible,  she  sets  herself  855 

Against  e'en  Creon's  royal  power. 

An  exile  who  would  deem  her  nowVT 

Her  cheeks  anon  with  anger  flush, 

And  now  a  deadly  pallor  show; 

Each  feeling  quick  succeeds  to  each,  860 

While  all  the  passions  of  her  heart 

Her  changing  aspect  testifies. 

She  wanders  restless  here  and  there, 

As  a  tigress,  of  her  young  bereft, 

In  frantic  grief  the  jungle  scours.  865 

Medea  knows  not  how  in  check 

To  hold  her  wrath  nor  yet  her  love; 

If  love  and  wrath  make  common  cause, 

What  dire  results  will  come  ? 

When  will  this  scourge  of  Corinth  leave  870 

Our  Grecian  shores  for  Colchis'  strand, 

And  free  our  kingdom  from  its  fear? 
7  Now,  Phoebus,  hasten  on  thy  course 

With  no  retarding  rein.  875 

Let  friendly  darkness  quickly  veil  the  light, 
And  this  dread  day  be  buried  deep  in  night. 

ACT  V 

Messenger  [comes  running  in  from  the  direction  of  the  palace]:    L<>, 
all  is  lost!    the  kingdom  totters  from  its  base! 

The  daughter  and  the  father  lie  in  common  dust !  880 

Chorus:  By  what  snare  taken  ? 

l/<  ssenger:  By  gifts,  the  common  snare  of  kings. 

Chorus:    What  harm  could  lurk  in  them  ? 
Messenger:  In  equal  doubt  I  stand; 

And,  though  my  eyes  proclaim  the  dreadful  deed  is  done, 

I  scarce  can  trust  their  witness. 
Chorus:  What  the  mode  of  death  ? 

Messenger:  Devouring  flames  consume  the  palace  at  the  will  885 

Of  her  who  sent  them;    there  complete  destruction  reigns, 

While  men  do  tremble  for  the  very  city's  doom. 
Chorus:  Let  water  quench  the  fire. 
Messenger:  Nay  here  is  added  wonder: 


no  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

The  copious  streams  of  water  feed  the  deadly  Barnes; 
And  opposition  only  fans  their  fiery  rage 

To  whiter  Ileal.     The  very  bulwarks  feel  their  ]xnver.  890 

[Medea  enters  in  time  to  hear  thai  her  magic  has  been  successful.] 

Nttrse [to  Medea]:    Oh,  haste  thee,  leave  this  land  of  Greece,  in  headlong 
flight ! 

Medea:    Thou  bid'st  me  speed  my  flight  ?    Nay  rather,  had  I  fled, 
I  should  return  for  this.     Strange  bridal  rites  I  see! 
[Absorbed  in  her  men  reflections.] 
j.\£i\Vhy  dost  thou  falter,  O  my  soul?     'Tis  well  begun;  895 

[But  still  how  small  a  portion  of  thy  just  revenge 
Is  that  which  gives  thee  present  joy?     Not  yet  has  love 
Been  banished  from  thy  maddened  heart  if  'tis  enough 
That  Jason  widowed  be.     Pursue  thy  vengeful  quest 
To  acts  as  yet  unknown,  and  steel  thyself  for  these. 
Away  with  every  thought  and  fear  of  God  and  man;  900 

.Too  lightly  falls  the  rod  that  pious  hands  upbear. 

^Give  passion  fullest  sway;  exhaust  thy  ancient  powers; 
And  let  the  worst  thou  yet  hast  done  be  innocent 
Beside  thy  present  deeds.     Come,  let  them  know  how  slight 
Were  those  thy  crimes  already  done;  mere  training  they         905 
For  greater  deeds.     For  what  could  hands  untrained  in  crime 
Accomplish  ?     Or  what  mattered  maiden  rage  ?     But  now, 
I  am  Medea;   in  the  bitter  school  of  woe 

My  powers  have  ripened.  910 

[In  an  ecstacy  of  madness.} 

Oh,  the  bliss  of  memory! 
My  infant  brother  slain,  his  limbs  asunder  rent, 
My  royal  father  spoiled  of  his  ancestral  realm, 
And  Pelias'  guiltless  daughters  lured  to  slay  their  sire ! 
But  here  I  must  not  rest;  no  untrained  hand  I  bring  915 

To  execute  my  deeds.     But  now,  by  what  approach 
Or  by  what  weapon  wilt  thou  threat  the  treacherous  foe  ? 
Deep  hidden  in  my  secret  heart  have  I  conceived 
A  purpose  which  I  dare  not  utter.     Oh,  I  fear 

^That  in  my  foolish  madness  I  have  gone  too  far — 
I  would  that  children  had  been  born  to  him  of  this  920 

My  hated  rival.     Still,  since  she  hath  gained  his  heart, 
His  children  too  are  hers — 


Medea  hi 


That  punishment  would  be  most  fitting  and  deserved. 

Yes,  now  I  see  the  final  deed  of  crime,  and  thou, 

My  soul,  must  face  it.     You,  who  once  were  called  my  sons, 

Must  pay  the  penalty  of  these  your  father's  crimes —  925 

S  My  heart  with  horror  melts,  a  numbing  chill  pervades 
My  limbs,  and  all  my  soul  is  filled  with  sinking  fear. 
Now  wrath  gives  place,  and,  heedless  of  my  husband's  sins, 
The  tender  mother-instinct  quite  possesses  me. 
And  could  I  shed  my  helpless  children's  blood  ?     Not  so, 

\  Oh,  say  not  so,  my  maddened  heart !     Far  from  my  hand        930 
And  thought  be  that  unnamcable  and  hideous  deed! 
What  sin  have  they  that  shedding  of  their  wretched  blood 
Would  wash  away  ? 

Their  sin — that  Jason  is  their  sire, 
And,  deeper  guilt,  that  I  have  borne  them.     Let  them  die; 
They  are  not  mine.    Nay,  nay!   they  are  my  own,  my  sons, 
And  with  no  spot  of  guilt.     Full  innocent  they  are,  935 

'Tis  true — my  brother,  too,  was  innocent.     O  soul, 
Why  dost  thou  hesitate  ?     Why  flow  these  streaming  tears, 
While  with  contending  thoughts  my  wavering  heart  is  torn  ? 
As  when  conflicting  winds  contend  in  stubborn  strife, 
And  waves,  to  stormy  waves  opposed,  the  sea  invade}}  940 

And  to  their  lowest  sands  the  briny  waters  boil; 
With  such  a  storm  my  heart  is  tossed.     Hate  conquers  love, 
And  love  puts  impious  hate  to  flight.     Oh,  yield  thee,  grief, 
To  love !     Then  come,  my  sons,  sole  comfort  of  my  heart,         945 
Come,  cling  within  your  mother's  close  embrace.     Unharmed 
Your  sire  may  keep  you,  while  your  mother  holds  you  too. 

[Embraces  her  sons.] 
But  flight  and  exile  drive  me  forth!     And  even  now 
My  children  must  be  torn  away  with  tears  and  cries. 
Then  let  them  die  to  Jason  since  they're  lost  to  me.  950 

Once  more  has  hate  resumed  her  sway,  and  passion's  fire 
Is  hot  within  my  soul.     Now  fury,  as  of  yore, 
Reseeks  her  own.     Lead  on,  I  follow  to  the  end! 
I  would  that  I  had  borne  twice  seven  sons,  the  boast  955 

Of  Niobe!     But  all  too  barren  have  I  been. 
Still  will  my  two  sufficient  be  to  satisfy 
My  brother  and  my  sire. 


S 


ii2  T  ii  k    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


[Sees  (/  vision  <>j  the  furies  and  her  brother's  ghost.] 
But  whither  hastes  that  throng 
Of  furies?    What  their  quest?    What  mean  their  brandished 

fires  ? 
Whom  threats  this  hellish  host  with  horrid,  bloody  brands?     960 
1  hear  the  writhing  lash  resound  of  serpents  huge. 

Whom  Seeks  Megaera  with  her  deadly  torch  ?     Whose  shade 
Comes  gibbering  dure  with  scattered  limbs ?     It  is  my  brother! 
Revenue  he  seeks,  and  \w  will  granl  liis  quest    Then  come, 
Within  my  heart  plunge  all  your  torches,  rend  me,  burn;         965 
For  lo,  my  bosom  open  to  your  fury's  stroke. 

0  brother,  bid  these  vengeful  goddesses  depart 
And  go  in  peace  down  to  the  lowest  shades  of  hell. 
And  do  thou  leave  me  to  myself,  and  let  this  hand 

That  slew  thee  with  the  sword  now  offer  sacrifice  970 

Unto  thy  shade. 

[Slays  her  first  son.] 
What  sudden  uproar  meets  my  ear? 
'Tis  Corinth's  citizens  on  my  destruction  bent. 
Unto  the  palace  roof  I'll  mount  and  there  complete 
This  bloody  sacrifice. 

[To  her  remaining  son.] 

Do  thou  come  hence  with  me. 
But  thee,  poor  senseless  corse,  within  mine  arms  I'll  bear.       975 
Now  gird  thyself,  my  heart,  with  strength.     Nor  must  this  deed 
Lose  all  its  just  renown  because  in  secret  done; 
But  to  the  public  eye  my  hand  must  be  approved. 
Jason  [in  the  street  below  shouting  to  citizens]:   Ho,  all  ye  loyal  sons, 
who  mourn  the  death  of  kings! 
Come,  let  us  seize  the  worker  of  this  hideous  crime.  980 

Now  ply  your  arms  and  raze  her  palace  to  the  ground. 
Medea  [appearing  on  the  housetop  with  her  two  sons]:  Now,  now  have 
I  regained  my  regal  state,  my  sire, 
My  brother!    Once  again  the  Colchians  hold  the  spoil 
Of  precious  gold!     And  by  the  magic  of  this  hour 

1  am  a  maid  once  more.     O  heavenly  powers,  appeased 

At  length !     O  festal  hour !     O  nuptial  day !     On,  on !  985 

Accomplished  is  the  guilt,  but  not  the  recompense. 
Complete  the  task  while  yet  thy  hands  are  strong  to  act! 


Medea  i  i  .^ 

Why  dost  thou  linger  still  ?  why  dost  thou  hesitate 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  deed  ?     Thou  canst  perform  it. 

Now  wrath  has  died  within  me,  and  my  soul  is  filled 
.\Yith  shame  and  deep  remorse.     Ah  me,  what  have  I  done, 

Wretch  that  I  am  ?     Wretch  that  thou  art,  well  mayst  thou 

mourn,  990 

For  thou  hast  done  it ! 

At  that  thought  delirious  joy 

O'ermasters  me  and  fills  my  heart  which  fain  would  grieve. 

And  yet,  methinks,  the  act  was  almost  meaningless, 

Since  Jason  saw  it  not;   for  naught  has  been  performed 

If  to  his  grief  be  added  not  the  woe  of  sight. 
Jason  [discovering  her]:  Lo,  there  she  stands  upon  the  lofty  battlements!  995 

Bring  torches!    fire  the  house,  that  she  may  fall  ensnared 

By  those  devices  she  herself  hath  planned. 
Medea  [derisively]:  Not  so, 

But  rather  build  a  lofty  pyre  for  these  thy  sons; 

Their  funeral  rites  prepare.     Already  for  thy  bride 

And  father  have  I  done  the  service  due  the  dead; 

For  in  their  ruined  palace  have  I  buried  them. 

One  son  of  thine  has  met  his  doom;  and  this  shall  die  1000 

Before  his  father's  face. 
Jason:     By  all  the  gods,  and  by  the  perils  of  our  flight, 

And  by  our  marriage  bond  which  I  have  ne'er  lx'trayed, 

I  pray  thee  spare  the  boy,  for  he  is  innocent. 

If  aught  of  sin  there  be,  'tis  mine.     Myself  I  give 

To  be  the  victim.     Take  my  guilty  soul  for  his.  1005 

Medea:    'Tis  for  thy  prayers  and  tears  I  draw,  not  sheathe  the  sword. 

Go  now,  and  take  thee  maids  for  wives,  thou  faithless  one; 

Abandon  and  betray  the  mother  of  thy  sons. 
Jason:  And  yet,  I  pray  thee,  let  one  sacrifice  atone. 
Medea:    If  in  the  blood  of  one  my  passion  could  be  quenched, 

No  vengeance  had  it  sought.     Though  both  my  sons  I  slay,     1010 

The  number  still  is  all  too  small  to  satisfy 

My  boundless  grief. 
Jason:  Then  finish  what  thou  hast   begun — 

I  ask  no  more — and  grant  at  least  that  no  delay 

Prolong  my  helpless  agony.  1015 

Medea:  Now  hasten  not, 


' '  I 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


I020 


Relentless  passion,  but  enjoy  a  slow  revenge. 

This  day  is  in  ihy  hands;    its  fertile  hours  employ. 
J    .'/;;     Oh,  takr  my  life,  thou  heartless  one. 
Medea:  Thou  bid'st  me  pity — 

Well !  [Slays  the  second  child,]  -'lis  done ! 

No  more  atonement,  passion,  can  1  offer  thee. 

Now  hither  lift  thy  tearful  eyes  ungrateful  one. 

Dost  recognize  thy  wife  ?     'Twas  thus  of  old  I  fled. 

The  heavens  themselves  provide  me  with  a  safe  retreat. 
[A  chariot  drawn  by  dragons  appears  in  the  air.] 

Twin  serpents  bow  their  necks  submissive  to  the  yoke. 

Now,  father,  take  thy  sons;   while  I,  upon  my  car, 

With  winded  speed  am  borne  aloft  through  realms  of  air. 
[Mounts  her  car  and  is  borne  away.] 
Jason  [calling  ajter  her]:  Speed  on  through  realms  of  air  that  mortals  never 
see: 

But,  witness  heaven,  where  thou  art  gone  no  gods  can  be ! 


1025 


HERCULES  FURENS 


HERCULES  FURENS 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

hercules    .   Son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmcna,  but  the  reputed  son  of  Amphit- 
ryon. 
Juno    .    .    .  Sister  and  wife  of  Jupiter,  and  queen  of  heaven. 
Amphitryon    Husband  of  Alcmena. 
Theseus   .    .   King  of  Athens  and  friend  of  Hercules. 

Lycus  .    .    .  The  usurping  king  of  Thebes,  who  has,  prior  to  the  opening 
of  the  play,  slain  king  Creon  in  battle. 

Megora    .    .  Wife  of  Hercules  and  daughter  of  Creon. 

Chorus     .    .  Of  Thebans. 

The  scene  is  in  the  princely  palace  of  Hercules  at  Thebes,  on  the 
j  day  of  the  return  of  the  hero  from  the  lower  world. 


The  jealous  wrath  oj  Juno,  working  through  Eurysthcus,  has  imposed 
twelve  mighty  and  destructive  tasks  on  Hercules,  her  hated  stepson.  But 
these,  even  to  the  last  and  worst,  the  bringing  of  Cerberus  to  the  upper  world, 
he  has  triumphantly  accomplished.  Abandoning  her  plan  oj  crushing  him  by 
toils  like  these,  she  will  turn  his  hand  against  himself,  and  so  accomplish 
his  destruction.  Upon  the  day  oj  his  return  jrom  hell,  she  brings  a  madness 
on  him,  and  so  precipitates  the  tragedy  which  forms  the  action  oj  the  play. 


ACT  I 

Juno  [in  soliloquy]:  Lo  I,  the  sister  of  the  Thunderer 

(For,  save  this  name  alone,  I've  nothing  more), 
Have  left  my  lord,  so  often  false  to  me, 
Have  left,  in  widowhood,  the  realms  of  heaven, 
And,  banished  from  the  sky,  have  given  place 
Unto  my  hated  rivals.     Now  must  earth  5 

Be  my  abode,  while  they  in  heaven  reign. 
Behold,  the  Bear,  far  in  the  frozen  north, 
Is  set  on  high  to  guide  the  Argive  ships; 
Behold,  in  southern  skies,  where  days  grow  long 
, Beneath  the  warmth  of  spring,  the  Bull  shines  bright, 
1  Who  once  the  Tyrian  Europa  bore. 
There  gleam  the  wandering  Atlantides,  10 

A  fearful  band  for  ships  and  sea  alike; 
And  yonder  fierce  Orion  with  his  sword 
The  very  gods  affrights;  his  stars,  as  well, 
The  golden  Perseus  boasts;  while  Leda's  sons 
With  shining  banners  glitter  in  the  sky; 

And  they,  Latona's  children,  for  whose  birth  15 

The  floating  land  stood  firm.     And  not  alone 
Have  Bacchus  and  his  mother  gained  the  heavens; 
But,  that  the  infamy  may  be  complete, 
The  skies  must  needs  the  Cretan  maiden's  crown 
Endure.     But  these  are  ancient  wrongs  I  tell: 
One  wild  and  baneful  land  alone  is  full 

Of  shameless  mistresses — the  Theban  land,  20 

Which  all  too  oft  has  me  a  stepdame  made. 
And  though  Alcmena  scale  the  heights  of  heaven, 
And  hold  my  place,  victorious  over  me; 
And  though  her  son  his  promised  star  obtain 
(Whose  hateful  gelling  cost  the  world  a  day, 
i  Since  Phoebus,  bidden  to  hold  his  shining  car  25 

In  Ocean  hid,  with  tardy  light  shone  forth 
From  eastern  seas):  still  ever  in  my  heart 
Shall  hate  relentless  dwell.     Undying  wrath 

119 


i2o  The    Tragedies    o*    Seneca 

My  outraged  soul  .shall  kindle;  and  my  grii  i", 

All  hope  of  truce  denying;  endless  wars 

Shall  fiercely  wage.      Hut  what  avail  my  wars?  30 

Whatever  savage  things  the  hurtful  earth, 

The  sea  <>r  air  produce,  terrific  sha] 

Fierce,  pestilential,  horrible,  and  dire. 

The  power  of  all  is  broken  and  subdued. 

AlddeS  towns  above  and  thrives  on  woe; 

My  wrath  is  his  delight,  and  to  his  praise 

He  turns  my  deadly  hate.     While  I,  too  stern,  35 

Impose  his  dreadful  tasks,  1  do  but  prove 

His  origin,  and  opportunity 

For  glorious  achievement  render  him. 

Where  Thoebus  with  bis  neighboring  torch  illumes 

The  east  and  western  shores  of  Aethiop's  land, 

Alcides'  dauntless  courage  is  adored; 

While  all  the  world  considers  him  a  god. 

And  now  have  I  no  in  more  to  send;  40 

And  less  his  toil  to  do  the  tasks  I  bid, 

Than  mine  to  set  them.     Joyfully  he  hears 

My  several  commands.     But  what  dire  tasks 

The  tyrant  may  conceive  can  harm  that  youth 

Impetuous?     His  very  arms,  forsooth, 

Are  torn  from  monsters  which  he  feared — and  slew;  45 

With  spoils  of  lion  and  of  hydra  armed, 

He  walks  abroad.     Nor  are  the  lands  of  earth 

Enough  for  him:  behold,  the  doors  of  Dis 

Are  burst,  and  to  the  upper  world  he  brings 

The  booty  taken  from  the  vanquished  king. 

'Tis  not  enough  that  he  returns  alive: 

The  law  that  binds  the  shades  is  set  at  naught. 

Myself  I  saw  him,  when  he  had  o'ercome  50 

The  king  of  hades  and  escaped  the  night 

Of  that  deep  underworld,  display  to  Jove 

The  spoils  of  Dis.     But  why  does  he  not  lead, 

Oppressed  and  overcome,  the  king  himself 

Who  gained  by  lot  an  equal  realm  with  Jove  ? 

Why  rules  he  not  in  conquered  Erebus  ? 

Whybares  he  not  the  Styx  ?     His  upward  way 


Hercules    Furens  i2j 

From  deepest  hell  to  earth  he  has  retraced,  55 

And  all  the  sacred  mysteries  of  death 

Lie  open  to  the  world.     Not  yet  content, 

And  proud  that  he  has  burst  the  bars  of  night, 

He  triumphs  over  me,  and,  insolent, 

He  leads  through  all  the  cities  of  the  land 

That  gruesome  dog  of  hell.     I  saw,  myself, 

The  daylight  pale  at  sight  of  Cerberus,  60 

The  sun  start  in  affright.     Nay,  even  I 

Was  struck  with  terror;  and,  as  I  beheld 

That  triple -headed  beast  in  bondage  led, 

I  trembled  at  the  thought  that  'twas  my  will. 

But  all  too  trivial  ills  do  I  lament; 

My  fears  must  be  aroused  for  heaven  itself, 

Lest  he  who  overcame  the  lowest  depths 

Should  scale  the  very  skies,  and  from  his  sire  65 

His  scepter  snatch  away.     Nor  to  the  stars 

Will  he,  like  Bacchus,  by  an  easy  path 

Ascend;  through  ruin  would  he  make  his  way, 

And  wish  to  rule  an  empty  universe. 

He  is  inflamed  with  pride  of  tested  strength;  s 

But  he  has  learned  by  Karing  up  the  heavens, 

That  by  his  power  the  heavens  can  be  subdued.  70 

Upon  his  head  he  bore  the  universe, 

Nor  did  his  shoulders  bend  beneath  the  weight 

Of  that  stupendous  mass;   the  vault  of  heaven 

11  his  neck  was  poised,  and  steadily 
1 1*    bore  the  expanse  of  sky,  the  shining  stars; 
And  even  me,  down  pressing,  he  endured. 
1 1'    -eeks  a  place  among  the  immortal  gods. 
Then  up,  arouse  thee  to  destructive  wrath,  75 

Destroy  him  meditating  plans  so  great. 
Meet  him  in  single  strife;  with  thine  own  hands 
Asunder  rend  him.     Why  thy  mighty  hate 
Dost  thou  consign  to  others  to  appease  ? 
Enough  of  monsters;  let  Eurysthcus  rest, 
All  weary  with  imposing  thy  commands. 
Though  thou  shouldst  open  wide  Sicilia's  vaults, 
And  free  the  Titans  who  essayed  to  wrench  80 


122  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

The  scepter  from  the  hand  <>f  mighty  Jove; 
Though  the  Doric  isle,  which  trembles  with  affright 
Whene'er  the  heaving  giant  turns  himself, 
Should  ease  her  weight  upon  the  monster's  head; 
Though  in  the  moon  another  race  of  beasts 
Should  k'  conceived:  yet  all  of  these,  1  know 

Ahidrs  conquered  and  will  conquer  still, 
i  Scek'st  thou  his  match  ?     There  is  none  save  himself.  85 

1  — -  n  1        I,,  -  .   1111  ■■  11  ■  u 

Then  set  him  on  to  war  against  himself; 
Let  furies  from  the  lowest  depths  of  hell 
Be  roused  and  come  to  aid,  their  flaming  locks 
Aglow  with  maddening  fire,  their  savage  hands 
The  horrid  snaky  scourges  brandishing. 
Go  now,  thou  proud  one,  seek  the  seats  of  heaven, 
And  scorn  the  lot  of  men.     And  dost  thou  think,  90 

O  hero  brave,  that  thou  hast  fled  the  Styx 
And  gloomy  shades  ?     Here  will  I  show  thee  hell; 
Here  will  I  summon  up  the  goddess  dire 
Of  Discord,  deep  in  darkness  thick  confined 
Far  down  below  the  abode  of  guilty  souls. 
A  cavern  huge  within  a  mountain's  hold 

Is  her  dark  prison.     Her  will  I  call  forth,  95 

And  from  the  deepest  realms  of  Dis  bring  up 
Whate'er  thou  hast  escaped:  base  Crime  shall  come; 
Impiety  that  fiercely  stains  its  hands 
In  kindred  blood;  the  shape  of  Error  too, 
And  Fury  ever  armed  against  itself. 
This,  this  assistance  shall  my  grief  employ. 
Come  then,  ye  ever-faithful  slaves  of  Dis,  100 

Begin  your  task.     Shake  high  the  blazing  torch; 
And  let  Megaera  lead  her  dreadful  band 
Of  sisters  viperous.     With  deadly  hand 
Let  her  from  off  the  blazing  funeral  pyre 
A  burning  brand  snatch  up.     Now  to  your  task; 
Thus  seek  revenge  for  violate fLStyx: 

•  Distract  his  heart  with  madness;  let  his  soul  105 

More  fiercely  burn  than  that  hot  fire  which  glows 
^On  Aetna's  forge.     But  first,  that  Hercules 
'May  be  to  madness  driven,  smitten  through^/ 


Hercules    Furens  123 

With  mighty  passion,  I  must  be  insane. 

Why  rav'st  thou  not,  O  Juno  ?     Me,  Oh,  me,  no 

Ye  sisters,  first  of  sanity  deprive, 

That  something  worthy  of  a  stepdame's  wrath 

I  may  prepare.     Let  all  my  hate  be  changed 

To  favor.     Now  I  pray  that  he  may  come 

To  earth  again,  and  see  his  sons  unharmed; 

May  he  return  with  all  his  old-time  strength. 

Now  have  I  found  a  day  when  Hercules 

May  help  me  with  his  strength  that  I  deplore.  1 15 

Now  let  him  equally  o'ercome  himself 

And  nic;  and  let  him,  late  escaped  from  death, 

Desire  to  die.     Now  let  it  profit  me 

That  he  is  born  of  Jove.     I'll  stand  by  him 

And  nicely  poise  his  hand,  that  so  his  darts 

May  with  more  deadly  aim  be  hurled.     I'll  guide 

The  madman's  arms.     And  so  at  last  I  help  120 

Alcides  in  his  wars.     The  crime  complete, 

Then  let  his  father  to  the  heavens  admit 

Those  guilty  hands.     Now  must  the  attack  begin. 

The  day  is  breaking,  and  with  saffron  light 

The  rising  sun  dispels  the  gloom  of  night. 


Chorus:  Now  scattered  and  with  paling  light  125 

The  stars  gleam  in  the  sinking  west; 
Now  vanquished  night  collects  her  fires, 
Whose  shining  band  at  the  day's  return 
The  star  of  morning  drives  away. 
High  up  in  the  frozen  northern  sky, 
^JThe  Arcadian  Bears  with  their  seven-fold  stars,  130 

Their  course  completed,  hail  the  dawn. 
Now  borne  along  by  his  azure  steeds 
The  sun  looks  forth  from  Oeta's  ridge; 
With  whose  light  suffused,  the  clustering  grapes 
In  the  vineyards  to  Thcban  Bacchus  dear 
Flush  rosy  red.     The  waning  moon  135 

Fades  out  of  sight,  to  return  again. 
Hard  Toil  awakens,  at  whose  knock 
The  doors  of  men  are  opened  wide, 


1 24  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  daily  cans  resumed. 

The  shepherd  Bends  his  Bock  afield, 

And  plucks,  himself,  the  tender  grass  140 

Still  sparkling  with  the  frosty  rime. 

The  young  bull  sports  among  the  fil  his 

At  liberty;  the  dams  refill 

Their  empty  udders;  s]M>rtiw  kids 

Leap  lightly  o'er  the  tender  grass  145 

In  aimless  course.     On  the  topmost  branch 

The  Thracian  Philomela  sings 

Her  strident  song,  and  near  her  nest 

Of  chattering  young  she  spreads  her  wings 

To  the  morning  sun;  while  all  around  150 

The  throng  of  birds  with  united  songs 

Announce  the  day. 

The  daring  sailor  spreads  his  sails 

To  the  freshening  wind,  as  the  breezes  fill 

Their  flapping  folds.     From  wave-worn  rocks 

The  fisher  leans  and  baits  anew 

His  cunning  hook;  he  feels  his  line  155 

A-tremble  with  the  struggling  fish, 

Or  weighs  his  prize  with  practiced  hand 

And  eager  eye. 
/  "Such  are  the  joys  of  him  who  lives  160 

>  jln  tranquil  and  unworried  peace; 
ft  Whose  pleasure  is  a  humble  house, 

His  own,  though  small;  whose  simple  hopes 

.Are  in  the  open  fields.1 

But  worried  hopes  in  cities  dwell, 
\  And  trembling  fears.     There  some  would  haunt 
1  The  rich  man's  haughty  vestibules, 

iWait  at  their  proud,  unfeeling  doors,  165 

Forego  their  sleep.     Some  heap  up  wealth, 

Though  blest  with  boundless  wealth,  and  gaze 

In  admiration  at  their  heaps; 

And  yet,  with  all  their  gold,  are  poor. 

Some  strain  for  the  applause  of  men, 

The  vulgar  throng,  whose  fickle  will 

1  Reading,  el  in  agris. 


/•I 
Ul 


Hercules    Furens  125 

Is  shifting  as  the  sea,  and  swell  170 

'With  empty  pride.     The  noisy  marl 

Still  others  claim,  who  meanly  deal 

In  quarrelsome  suits,  and  profit  make 

Of  wrath  and  empty  words. 

Few  know  untroubled  peace,  the  men 

Who,  heeding  time's  swift  flight,  hold  fast  175 

The  years  that  never  will  return. 

While  fate  permits,  live  happily; 

For  life  runs  on  with  rapid  pace, 

And  with  headlong  speed  the  year's  swift  wheel  180 

With  wingdd  hours  is  turned. 

The  cruel  sisters  urge  their  task, 

Nor  backward  turn  the  threads  of  life. 

But  the  race  of  men  is  hurried  on 

To  meet  the  quick  approaching  fates, 

Uncertain  of  their  own. 

Of  our  own  will  we  haste  to  cross  185 

The  Stygian  waves.     Thou,  Hercules, 

With  heart  too  brave,  before  thy  time 
N  Didst  see  the  grieving  shades.     The  fates 

In  pre-established  order  come; 

And  none  may  stay  when  they  command, 

None  may  put  off  the  appointed  day.  190 

The  swiftly  whirling  urn  of  fate 

Contains  all  mortal  men. 

Let  glory  then  to  many  lands 

Proclaim  some  names,  and  chattering  fame 

Through  every  city  sing  their  praise, 

And  raise  them  to  the  stars.     Sublime  195 

In  triumph  let  another  ride. 
C\Me  let  my  native  land  conceal 

Within  a  safe  and  humble  home. 

'Tis  unambitious  souls  who  come 

To  hoary -headed  age  at  last. 

1  f  humble,  still  the  lot  is  sure 
"AOf  lowly  homes.     Souls  lifted  high, 

For  this  to  greater  depths  must  fall.  ( 
But  see,  sad  Megara  comes  with  flowing-hair, 


200 


126  The    Tragedies    of    Senkca 

Her  little  children  closely  pressing  round; 
And  with  her,  with  the  tardy  step  of  age, 
The  sire  of  Hercules,  Amphitryon. 

ACT  II 

ra:      0  mighty  ruler  <>f  Olympus'  heights,  205 

Thou  judge  of  all  the  world,  now  set  at  length 
A  limit  to  my  cans,  and  make  an  end 
Of  my  disasters.     No  untroubled  day 
Doth  dawn  for  me;  but  one  misfortune's  end 
Marks  but  the  starting-point  of  future  woes. 
I  ash  foes  are  ready  for  my  Hercules 

Straightway  on  his  return;  ere  he  can  reach  210 

His  happy  home,  another  warfare  bids 
That  he  set  forth  again.     No  time  for  rest 
Is  given,  save  while  he  waits  a  fresh  command. 
'Twas  ever  thus:  from  earliest  infancy 
Unfriendly  Juno  follows  on  his  track. 
Was  e'en  his  cradle  free  from  her  assaults? 
He  conquered  monsters  ere  he  learned  to  know  215 

What  monsters  were.     Two  crested  serpents  huge 
Against  him  reared  their  heads;  the  dauntless  child 
Crawled  forth  to  meet  them,  and,  with  placid  gaze 
Intently  fixed  upon  their  fiery  eyes, 

With  fearless  look  he  raised  their  close-coiled  folds,  220 

And  crushed  their  swollen  necks  with  tender  hand. 
And  thus  he  practiced  for  the  hydra's  death. 
He  caught  the  nimble  stag  of  Maenalus, 
Its  beauteous  head  adorned  with  horns  of  gold. 
The  lion,  terror  of  Nemean  woods, 

Groaned  out  his  life  beneath  the  mighty  arms  225 

Of  Hercules.     Why  should  I  call  to  mind 
The  stables  dire  of  that  Bistonian  herd, 
And  the  king  as  food  to  his  own  horses  given  ? 
The  rough  Maenalian  boar,  which,  from  his  lair 
On  Erymanthus'  thickly  wooded  heights, 
Filled  all  the  groves  of  Arcady  with  dread  ? 
Or  that  fell  Cretan  bull  whose  terror  filled  230 

A  hundred  towns  ?     Among  his  herds  remote, 


Hercules    Furens  127 

The  three-formed  shepherd  by  Tartcssus'  shore 
Was  slain,  and  from  the  farthest  west  his  herds 
Were  driven  as  booty.     Now  Cithaeron  feeds 
The  cattle  once  to  Ocean  known.     Again, 
When  bidden  to  penetrate  the  sultry  zone  235 

Of  summer's  burning  sun,  those  scorched  realms 
Winch  midday  parches  with  its  piercing  rays, 
He  clove  the  ponderous  mountain  barriers, 
And  made  a  pathway  for  the  rushing  sea. 
He  next  assailed  the  rich  Hesperides, 

And  bore  therefrom  the  watchful  dragon's  spoil  240 

Of  golden  fruit.     Then  Lerna's  savage  beast, 
An  evil  creature  constantly  renewed, 
Did  he  not  overcome  by  fire  at  last, 
And  teach  it  how  to  die  ?     Did  he  not  seek 
Within  the  clouds  the  dire  Stymphalian  birds, 
Whose  spreading  wings  were  wont  to  obscure  the  day  ? 
He  was  not  conquered  by  the  maiden  queen  245 

"Who  ruled  the  Amazons  and  ever  kept 
Her  couch  in  virgin  state.     Nor  did  his  hands, 
Courageous  to  attempt  all  glorious  deeds, 
Disdain  to  cleanse  the  vile  Augean  stalls. 
But  what  avail  these  toils  ?     For  he  alone 
Cannot  enjoy  the  world  he  saved.     And  now 
The  world  perceives  the  giver  of  its  peace  250 

Is  absent  from  its  sight.     Now  prosperous  crime 
Is  called  by  virtue's  name;  good  men  obey 
The  guilty,  might  is  counted  right,  and  fear 
O'ershadows  law.     Before  my  eyes  I  saw 
The  sons  who  dared  defend  their  father's  throne 
Fall  dead  beneath  the  tyrant's  murderous  hand;  255 

I  saw  King  Creon's  self  by  death  o'ercome, 
The  latest  son  of  Cadmus'  noble  line ; 
And  with  his  head  the  royal  diadem 
Was  reft  away.     Who  now  could  weep  enough 
For  Thebes?     Proud  land  and  mother  of  the  gods, 
What  master  fears  she  now,  she,  from  whose  fields  260 

And  fertile  bosom  sprang  that  hand  of  youth 
With  swords  all  ready  drawn;  whose  mighty  walls 


128  Tim      Tragi:  dies    of    Seneca 

Amphion,  son  of  Jove,  once  built,  its  stones 
^Compelling  by  the  magic  of  bis  lyre; 
Down  to  whose  citadel  no1  once  alone 
The  father,  of  the  gods  from  heaven  came? 

'This  royal  city  which  the  immortals  oft  265 

Has  entertained,  which  has  divinities 

Produced,  and  (heaven  forgive  the  boastful  word) 

Perchance  will  yel  produce,  is  now  oppressed 

Beneath  a  shameful  yoke.    O  royal  race 

Of  Cadmus,  noble  state  Amphion  ruled, 

Low  hast  thou  fallen  indeed!     Dost  thou  obey 

A  low  born  exile,  driven  from  his  land  270 

And  yet  oppressing  ours  ?     And  now,  alas, 

1  le,  who  on  land  and  sea  doth  punish  crime, 

Who  breaks  all  cruel  rule  with  righteous  hand, 

Far  off  obeys  another,  and  himself 

Endures  those  ills  from  which  he  others  saved; 

And  Lycus  rules  the  Thebes  of  Hercules! 

But  not  for  long;  he  soon  will  come  again,  275 

And  punish  all  the  wrongs;  he  suddenly 

Will  to  the  upper  world  emerge;  a  way 

He'll  find — or  make.     Oh,  come  unharmed,  I  pray; 

As  victor  come  at  last  unto  thy  home 

Which  now  in  ruins  lies.     O  husband,  come, 

With  thy  strong  hand  break  through  the  shades  of  hell.        280 

And  if  no  way  is  open,  if  the  road 

Is  closely  barred,  then  rend  the  earth  and  come; 

And  all  that  lies  in  keep  of  dismal  night 

Bring  forth  with  thee.     As  once,  through  riven  hills 

A  passage  seeking  for  a  headlong  stream, 

Thou  stood'st,  and,  with  thy  strength  gigantic  cleft,  285 

The  vale  of  Tempe  opened  wide;  as  then, 

Impelled  by  might  of  thy  resistless  breast, 

The  mountains  fell  away  from  either  side, 

And  through  the  broken  masses  poured  the  stream 

Of  Thessaly  along  a  channel  new: 

So  now  to  parents,  children,  native  land, 

A  passage  burst.     And  bring  away  with  thee  290 

The  shapes  of  death,  and  all  that  greedy  time 


Hercules    Furens 


129 


Through  countless  rounds  of  years  has  hidden  away; 

Those  nations  who  have  drunk  forgetfulness, 

Drive  out  before  thee,  fearful  of  the  light. 

The  spoils  are  all  unworthy  of  thy  fame, 

If  thou  shouldst  bring  from  hades  only  that  295 

Which  was  commanded.     But  too  bold  my  words, 

And  thoughtless  of  my  present  lot  I  speak. 

Oh,  when  will  come  at  last  that  day  for  me 

When  I  shall  clasp  my  husband  once  again, 

And  weep  no  more  his  long-delayed  return, 

His  long  forgetfulness  of  me  ?     To  thee, 

O  ruler  of  the  gods,  a  hundred  bulls 

Shall  bleed;  to  thee,  thou  goddess  of  the  fruits,  300 

Thy  secret  rites  I'll  pay:  for  thee  shall  blaze 

Upon  Eleusin's  shrine  the  sacred  torch 

In  celebration  of  thy  mysteries. 

Then  shall  I  think  my  brothers'  lives  restored, 

My  father  once  again  upon  his  throne.  305 

But  if  some  power  more  potent  than  thine  own 

Holds  thee  in  durance,  we  shall  come  to  thee. 

Return  in  safety  and  protect  us  all, 

Or  drag  us  down  with  thee.     This  wilt  thou  do; 

No  god  will  e'er  our  broken  fortunes  mend. 
Amphitr.:  O  ally  of  my  house,  with  wifely  faith 

Preserving  for  the  great -souled  Hercules  310 

His  couch  and  children,  be  of  better  mind. 

Take  heart  again,  for  surely  he  will  come, 

Increased  in  fame  by  this,  as  is  his  wont 

By  other  tasks. 
Megara:  What  wretched  men  desire 

They  readily  believe. 
Amphitryon:  Nay,  what  they  fear 

I  They  think  can  never  be  escaped  or  borne.  315 

For  fear  is  prone  to  see  the  darker  side. 
.\frgara:      Submerged,  deep  buried,  crushed  beneath  the  world, 

What  chance  has  he  to  reach  the  upper  realms  ? 
Amphitr.:  The  same  he  had,  when,  through  the  arid  plain, 

And  sands  that  billowed  like  the  stormy  sea,  320 

Those  twice  receding,  twice  returning  gulfs, 


130  Tn  b    Tragedies    of     Seneca 

ll.  made  hia  way;  when  on  the  dangerous  shoals 

Of  Syrtes  he  was  wrecked,  he  left  his  ship 

A  helpless  hulk  and  crossed  the  sea  on  foot. 
Megara:     Unjust  is  fortune,  rarely  does  she  spare  325 

Tin.-  bravest  souls.    No  one  with  safety  long 

Can  brave  so  frequent  perils;  he  who  oft 

Has  shunned  misfortune  meets  at  last  his  fate. 

But  see,  with  threatening  looks  fierce  Lycus  comes, 

His  hateful  soul  in  hateful  hearing  shown,  330 

And  bears  the  stolen  scepter  in  his  hand. 
[Enkr  Lycus.] 
Lyats:  The  rich  domain  of  this  proud  town  of  Thebes, 

With  all  the  fertile  soil  which  Phocis  bounds 

Within  its  winding  borders,  all  the  land 

Ismenus  waters;  all  Cithaeron  sees  335 

From  his  high  top;  the  narrow  Isthmus,  too, 

Two  seas  asunder  cleaving:  all  I  own, 

Not  by  prerogative  of  long  descent, 

A  worthless  heir.     No  noble  ancestors, 

Nor  family  adorned  with  lofty  names 
j  Have  I;  but  splendid  valor.     He  who  boasts  340 

His  noble  ancestry  exalts  a  thing 

Which  is  not  his  to  boast.     But  power  usurped 

Is  held  with  anxious  hands;  the  sword  alone 

Can  guard  it.     All  thou  hold'st  against  the  will 

Of  citizens  the  sword  must  hold  for  thee. 

No  kingdom  built  upon  a  foreign  soil  345 

Is  safe  for  long.     One  thing  alone  I  see 

Which  can  our  power  establish — Megara, 

By  ties  of  royal  marriage  bound  to  me. 

From  her  illustrious  line  my  humble  blood 

Shall  a  richer  hue  derive.     Nor  do  I  think 

That  she  will  scorn  me  and  refuse  my  suit. 

But  should  she  with  a  blind  and  stubborn  soul  350 

Refuse  my  proffered  hand,  my  mind  is  fixed 

To  give  to  utter  ruin  all  the  house 

Of  Hercules.     Will  such  a  deed  arouse 

A  storm  of  scandal  and  the  people's  hate  ? 

The  art  of  ruling  chiefly  lies  in  this: 


Hercules    Furens  131 

The  power  to  bear  the  people's  hate  unmoved.'' 

Let  me  make  trial  then.     Occasion  smiles, 

For  she  herself,  in  mourning  vestments  clad,  355 

Stands  by  the  altars  of  her  guardian  gods, 

While  near  at  hand  Alcides'  father  waits. 
Megara  [seeing  Lycus,  aside]:  What  new  outrage  does  yonder  wretch 
prepare, 

The  pestilent  destroyer  of  our  race  ? 
Lycus:         O  thou,  who  bear'st  a  name  illustrious  360 

From  royal  stock,  with  patient  ear  awhile 
I  Receive  my  words.     If  everlasting  hate 
\  The  hearts  of  men  should  feel,  if  fury  dire, 
\  Once  in  the  heart  conceived,  should  never  cease; 

If  prosperous  men  must  ever  fight  to  rule, 

And  those  who  fail  obey  because  they  must: 

Then  never-ending  wars  would  nothing  leave,  365 

And  all  the  fields  would  be  a  barren  waste; 

Homes  would  be  burned,  and  'neath  their  ashes  deep 

All  nations  of  the  earth  would  be  o'erwhelmed. 

The  victor's  profit  is  in  peace  restored, 

But  for  the  vanquished  'tis  their  direful  need. 

Come,  share  my  throne;  let  us  unite  our  wills.  370 

And,  as  my  pledge  of  faith,  receive  my  hand. 

But  why  dost  thou  in  scornful  silence  wait  ? 
Mrgara:      And  dost  thou  think  that  I  would  touch  the  hand 

That  is  besprinkled  with  my  father's  gore, 

And  my  two  brothers'  blood  ?     Oh,  sooner  far 

Shall  day's  last  beams  go  out  in  eastern  skies, 

And  dawn  break  in  the  west;  sooner  shall  peace  375 

Be  made  'twixt  snow  and  flame,  and  Scvlla  join 

Sicilia's  shores  with  those  of  Italy; 

A.nd  sooner  shall  Euripus'  rushing  waves 

Lap  peacefully  upon  Euboea's  shores. 

My  father  and  my  brothers  hast  thou  slain, 

My  kingflom  ruined,  home  and  native  land. 

What  still  is  left  ?    One  thing  remains  to  me,  380 

That's  dearer  than  my  father,  brother,  home, 

And  kingdom:    'tis  my  deadly  hate  of  thy 

That  I  must  share  this  with  the  land  at  large 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Is  grief  to  mi'.    For  in  their  cause  for  hate 

How  small  a  share  have  I  ?     Thou,  swollen  with  pride, 
Rule  <>n,  and  let  thy  soul  exalt  itself; 

Hut  know  that  evermore  the  avenging  god  385 

Pursues  the  proud  of  heart.     Well  do  I  know 
The  history  of  Thebes.     Why  need  I  tell 
Of  matrons  who  haw  dared  and  suffered  wrong? 
Why  name  the  double  crime,  the  mingled  names 
Of  husband,  father,  son,  the  opposing  camps 
Of  brothers  ?     Why  describe  the  funeral  pyres  ? 
The  haughty  mother,  child  of  Tantalus,  390 

Still  sits  in  stony  grief;  the  mourning  rock 
On  Phrygian  Sipylus  still  drips  with  tears. 
Nay,  Cadmus'  self,  in  form  of  serpent,  still 
Flees  through  Illyria's  realm  with  crested  head, 
And  leaves  behind  his  dragging  body's  trail. 
Such  fates  admonish  thee.     Rule  as  thou  will:  395 

But  may  the  accustomed  doom  of  Thebes  be  thine. 
Lycus:         Come  then,  have  done  with  this  wild  talk  of  thine, 
And  learn  from  Hercules  to  obey  the  will 
Of  kings.     Although  by  right  of  victory 

I  wield  this  scepter,  though  I  reign  supreme  400 

Without  the  fear  of  laws  which  arms  annul, 
Still  will  I  briefly  speak  in  my  defense. 
And  did  thy  father  fall  in  bloody  war  ? 
Thy  brothers  too  ?     But  arms  no  limit  know, 
Cannot  be  checked  with  ease,  nor  can  the  sword, 
Once  drawn,  restrain  its  wrath.     War  will  have  blood.         405 
But  (you  will  say),  he  fought  to  save  his  state, 
While  I  was  prompted  by  the  lust  of  power. 
Still  we  should  look,  not  at  the  cause  of  war, 
But  at  its  outcome.     Now  let  memory 
Of  all  the  former  wrongs  pass  from  thy  heart. 
When  the  victor  lays  aside  his  arms,  'tis  meet 
The  vanquished  should  abandon  hatred  too.  410 

I  ask  thee  not  upon  thy  bended  knees 
To  acknowledge  me  as  king;  for  it  is  well 
That  thou  shouldst  meet  thy  ruin  dauntlessly. 
Lo,  thou  art  worthy  of  a  royal  mate: 


Hercules    Furens 


133 


Be  then  my  wife  and  not  my  enemy. 
Megara:      Cold  horror  creeps  throughout  my  lifeless  limbs. 

What  shameful  proposition  do  I  hear? 

I  did  not  shrink  when  loud  alarms  of  war 
</Rang  round  our  city's  walls;  and  all  my  woes 

(I've  bravely  borne.     But  marriage — and  with  him  ! 
l_Now  do  I  think  myself  indeed  a  slave. 

Load  down  my  tender  frame  with  heavy  chains; 

Be  lingering  death  by  long  starvation  sought; 

Still  shall  no  power  o'ercome  my  wifely  faith. 

I  shall  be  thine,  Alcides,  to  the  death. 
Lyi  us:         Such  spirits  does  a  buried  husband  give  ? 
Megara:      He  went  below  that  he  might  reach  the  heavens. 
Lycus:         The  boundless  weight  of  earth  oppresses  him. 
Megara:      No  weight  of  earth  can  overwhelm  the  man 

Who  bore  the  heavens  up. 
Lycus:  Thou  shalt  be  forced. 

Megara:      He  can  be  forced  who  knows  not  how  to  die. 
Lycus:         Tell  me  what  gift  I  could  bestow  more  rich 

Than  royal  wedlock  ? 
Megara:  Grant  thy  death,  or  mine. 

Lycus:         Then  die,  thou  fool. 

Mt  ;ara:  'Tis  thus  I'll  meet  my  lord. 

Lycus:         Is  that  slave  more  to  thee,  than  I,  a  king? 
Megara:      How  many  kings  has  that  slave  given  to  death! 
Lycus:         Why  does  he  serve  a  king,  and  bear  the  yoke  ? 

ira:       Remove  hard  tasks,  and  where  would  valor  be  ? 
Lycus:         To  conquer  monsters  call'st  thou  valor  then  ? 
Megara:   \  'Tis  valor  to  subdue  what  all  men  fear. 
Lycus:         The  shades  of  hades  hold  that  boaster  fast. 
Megara:      No  easy  way  leads  from  the  earth  to  heaven. 
Lycus:         Who  is  his  father,  that  he  hojxs  for  heaven  ? 
Amphifr.:  Unhappy  wife  of  mighty  Hercules, 

Be  silent  now,  for  'tis  my  part  to  till 

Alcides'  parentage.     After  his  deeds, 

So  many  and  so  great;  after  the  world, 

From  rising  unto  setting  of  the  sun, 

Has  been  subdued,  so  many  monsters  tamed; 

After  the  giants'  impious  blood  was  spilled 


415 


420 


425 


4.30 


435 


440 


i;i  The    Tragedies    of    Skneca 

In  Phlegra's  vale,  and  gods  wen-  reinforced,  445 

What  Deed  we  yel  to  prove  his  parentage? 

1>>>  we  make  false  pretense  of  Jupiter? 

Then  Juno's  hate  believe. 
/     us:  Why  blaspheme  Jove  ? 

The  race  <>f  mortals  cannot  mate  with  gods. 
Amphitr.:  Such  is  the  origin  of  many  gods. 

Lycus:        But  were  they  slaws  before  t lu-ir  heaven  was  gained  ?  450 

Amphitr.:  The  Delian  at  Pherae  kept  the  flocks. 
Lycus}         But  he  did  not  in  exile  roam  the  world. 
Amphitr.:  His  mother  bore  him  in  a  roaming  land, 

I  [erself  a  fugitive. 
Lycus:  Did  Phoebus  fear 

Wild  beasts  and  monsters? 
Amphitryon:  Yes,  in  dragon's  blood  455 

His  earliest  shafts  were  stained. 
Lycus:  Thou  knowest  not 

What  heavy  ills  the  young  Alcides  bore. 
Amphitr.:  But  Bacchus  by  a  thunderbolt  was  ripped 

From  out  his  mother's  womb;  and  yet  he  stood 

In  after  time  beside  the  Thunderer, 

His  sire.     Nay,  Jove  himself,  who  rules  the  stars 
,  And  drives  the  clouds,  did  he  not  lie  concealed,  460 

)  In  helpless  infancy  in  Ida's  cave  ? 

A  heavy  price  must  so  high  lineage  pay, 

And  suffering  is  the  birthright  of  a  god. 
Lycus:         Whoe'er  is  wretched,  thou  wouldst  mortal  know. 
Amphitr.:  Whoe'er  is  brave,  thou  wouldst  not  wretched  call. 
Lycus:         But  is  he  brave,  from  whose  broad  shoulders  fell  465 

The  lion's  skin  and  club,  that  they  might  be 

A  maiden's  plaything  ?     Who  himself  shone  bright 
\ In  Tynan  vestments?     Should  we  call  him  brave, 

Whose  bristling  locks  were  wet  with  fragrant  nard, 

Whose  famous  hands  in  woman's  wise  essayed 

To  play  the  tambour;  on  whose  frowning  brow  470 

The  Phrygian  turban  shamelessly  was  worn  ? 
Amphitr.:   But  youthful  Bacchus  did  not  blush  to  wear 

His  locks  in  flowing  ringlets,  in  his  hand 

The  thyrsus  light  to  brandish,  as  he  walked 


Hercules    Furens  135 

With  steps  unsteady,  clad  in  trailing  robes 

Bright  with  barbaric  gold.     'Tis  virtue's  right  475 

In  foolishness  to  ease  the  strain  of  toil. 
Lycus:         'Twas  for  this  cause  the  house  of  Eurytus 

Was  overthrown,  and  troops  of  maidens  slain 

Like  helpless  sheep!     No  Juno  ordered  this, 

Nor  yet  Eurystheus:  these  his  works  alone.  480 

Amphilr.:  Thou  know'st  not  all  his  deeds:  it  was  his  work 

That  Eryx  fell,  by  his  own  gauntlets  slain; 

That  in  his  death  Antaeus,  too,  was  joined; 

That  those  foul  altars,  dripping  with  the  blood 

Of  hapless  strangers,  drank  the  blood  at  last 

Of  murderous  Busiris.     'Twas  his  work 

That  Cycnus,  proof  against  the  sword,  was  slain,  485 

Though  still  unwounded;  by  his  hand  alone 

The  threefold  Geryon  fell.     And  thou  shalt  be 

As  one  of  these,  though  they  ne'er  basely  sinned 

Against  the  rites  of  marriage. 
Lycus:  What  to  Jove 

Is  lawful,  is  my  kingly  right  as  well. 

A  wife  thou  gav'st  to  him;  so  for  thy  king 

Shalt  thou  a  mate  provide.     Now  Megara  490 

From  thine  example  shall  the  lesson  learn, 

Not  new,  that  wives  may  yield  to  better  men, 

When  husbands  give  consent.     But  if,  self-willed, 

She  still  refuse  to  take  me  for  her  lord, 

I'll  force  her  will  to  bear  me  noble  seed. 
Megara:      Ye  shades  of  Creon,  and  ye  household  gods  495 

Of  Labdacus,  ye  impious  nuptial  fires 

Of  Oedipus,  your  wonted  fortune  give 

To  this  our  union !     O  ye  savage  wives 

Of  king  Aegyptus'  sons,  be  present  now, 

With  blood-stained  hands.     Your  count  is  incomplete. 

I  gladly  will  that  impious  number  fill.  500 

Lycus:         Since  thou  dost  stubbornly  refuse  my  suit, 

And  striv'st  to  fright  the  king,  now  shalt  thou  feel 

The  strength  of  royal  power.     Cling  as  thou  mayst 

To  altar  horns:  no  god  shall  save  thee  now 

From  me;  not  though  the  earth  itself  be  rent, 


1 36  The    Tragedies     of    Seneca 

And  Hercules  victorious  oome  again  505 

Unto  the  upper  world. 

I  To  slaves.] 
Ih  ;i]>  high  the  logs, 

And  let  the  sacn -d  temple  blazing  fall 

lT|K>n  its  suppliants.     Now  let  the  wife 

And  all  her  brood  upon  the  funeral  pyre 

Be  burned  to  ashes  in  the  kindling  flames. 
Aniphitr.:  This  boon  Alcides'  father  asks  of  thee, 

Which  fits  me  well,  that  I  be  first  to  die.  510 

Lycus:         Who  bids  all  men  meet  punishment  with  death 

Knows  not  the  ruler's  art.     Seek  varied  pains; 

Forbid  the  wretch  to  die,  the  happy  slay. 

Now,  while  the  pyre  is  growing  for  the  flames, 

I'll  pay  my  vows  unto  the  ocean's  god.  515 

[Exit.] 
Aniphitr.:  O  god  of  gods,  O  ruler  of  the  skies, 

Whose  hurtling  bolts  make  mortals  quake  with  fear, 

Check  thou  the  impious  hand  of  this  dire  king. 

Why  do  I  vainly  importune  the  gods  ? 

Where'er  thou  art,  hear  thou  and  answer,  son.  520 

But  why  this  sudden  rocking  of  the  shrine  ? 

Why  groans  the  earth  ?     Far  in  her  lowest  hold 

A  crashing  deep  resounds.     Our  prayer  is  heard ! 

It  is,  it  is  the  step  of  Hercules ! 


Chorus:  ^0  Fortune,  envious  of  the  brave,    . 

Unjustly  are  thy  prizes  given !     v  525 

Behold  Eurystheus  reigns  at  ease, 
,  While  our  Alcmena's  noble  son, 
'  With  hands  which  could  the  heavens  uplift, 

Must  endless  wars  with  monsters  wage; 

Must  sever  the  hydra's  teeming  necks, 

And  from  the  cheated  sisters  bear  530 

The  apples,  when  the  dragon  huge, 

The  guardian  of  the  golden  fruit, 

Had  given  to  sleep  his  watchful  eyes. 
!  To  the  wandering  homes  of  Scythia, 

Where  tribes  in  their  ancestral  seats 


Hercules    Furens  137 

As  strangers  Swell,  he  made  his  way. 

He  trod  the  frozen  ocean's  crust,  535 

A  still  sea  hemmed  by  silent  shores; 
There  no  waves  beat  on  the  rigid  plains, 
And  where  but  now  full  swelling  sails 
Had  sped  their  barks,  a  path  is  worn 
By  the  long-haired  Sarmatae. 

There  the  waters  change  with  the  changing  year,  540 

Now  ships,  now  horses  bearing  up. 
From  the  queen  who  rules  o'er  virgin  tribes, 
With  golden  girdles  on  their  loins, 
He  took  her  body's  noble  spoil, 

Her  shield  and  her  snowy  bosom's  guard.  545 

On  bended  knee  she  acknowledged  him  victor. 
With  what  hope,  driven  to  the  depths  of  hell, 
Bold  to  tread  irretraceable  ways, 
Didst  thou  behold  the  dusky  realms 
Of  Proserpine  of  Sicily  ? 

There  Notus  and  Favonius  lash  550 

No  seas  to  rage  with  swelling  floods; 
There  do  no  frightened  vessels  find 
Help  from  the  twin  Tyndaridae. 
Those  waters  lie  in  stagnant  pools 

And  black;  and  when,  with  greedy  teeth,  555 

Pale  Death  bears  off  uncounted  tribes 
Unto  the  shades,  one  oarsman  grim 
Bears  all  across  their  gloomy  depths. 
Oh,  that  the  laws  of  cruel  Styx 
Thou  mightst  annul,  and  the  distaff  break, 
Relentless,  of  the  fates.     And  lo,  560 

Thou  canst  avail,  for  he  who  rules 
O'er  many  nations  once  with  thee 
His  deadly  hands  in  battle  joined, 
When  thou  didst  wage  'gainst  Nestor's  land 
A  mighty  war.     A  three -pronged  spear 
He  bore;  but  soon,  by  but  a  wound 

O'ercome,  he  fled.     He  feared  to  die,  565 

Though  lord  of  death.     Burst  with  thy  hands 
.The  bonds  of  fate.     To  those  sad  souls 


! 


i;S  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

In  lull  let  in  the  light  of  day, 

And  to  the  upper  world  reveal 

An  easy  path.     Once,  by  his  songs 

And  suppliant  prayers,  did  Orpheus  bend  570 

The  stubborn  lords  of  hell,  when  he 

His  lost  Eurydice  would  seek. 

That  art  which  drew  the  forest  trees, 

Which  held  the  birds  and  rocks  enthralled, 

Which  stopped  the  river's  headlong  race, 

And  tamed  the  hearts  of  savage  beasts, 

Soothed  with  its  strains  ne'er  heard  before  575 

Those  darksome  realms,  and  clear  and  fine 

Resounded  through  that  silent  land. 

Eurydice  the  Thracian  dames 

Bewailed;  Eurydice,  the  gods, 

Who  ne'er  had  wept  before;  and  they 

Who  with  forbidding,  awful  brows, 

In  judgment  sit  and  hear  the  crimes  580 

Long  since  committed,  unconfessed, 

They  sat  and  wept  Eurydice, 

Until  the  lord  of  death  exclaimed: 
"We  grant  thy  prayer.     Away  to  earth; 

But  on  this  sole  condition  go: 

Do  thou  behind  thy  husband  fare; 

And  look  thou  not  upon  thy  wife,  585 

Until  the  light  of  day  thou  see, 

And  Spartan  Taenarus  appear." 

Love  hates  delay,  nor  suffers  it : 

He  hasted  to  behold  his  wife — 

And  she  again  was  lost  to  him. 
So,  then,  the  fortress  that  could  yield  to  song,  590 

Be  sure  that  fortress  shall  to  strength  belong. 

ACT  III 

[Enter  Hercules,  just  returned  from  the  lower  world,  accompanied  by  Theseus.] 

Hercules:    O  kindly  lord  of  light,  heaven's  ornament, 
Who  circlest  all  the  spaces  of  the  sky 
With  thy  flame-bearing  car,  and  thy  bright  head 
Dost  lift  to  glad  a  new-awakened  earth: 


Hercules    Furens  139 

VThy  pardon,  O  Apollo,  do  I  crave,  595 

If  aught  unlawful  thou  dost  see  in  mc; 
For  by  another's  will  have  I  revealed 
The  hidden  things  of  earth.     Thou  lord  of  heaven, 
And  sire,  behind  thy  flaming  thunderbolt 
Conceal  thy  face;  and  thou  who  rul'st  the  seas 
By  second  lot,  seek  thou  their  lowest  depths.  600 

Whoever  from  on  high  beholds  the  earth, 
And  would  not  by  strange  sights  be  vision-stained, 
To  heaven  look  and  so  these  portents  shun. 
Two  only  may  behold  this  horrid  sight: 
The  one  who  brought  and  she  who  ordered  it. 
To  work  my  punishment  and  fated  toils  605 

The  earth  was  not  enough.     Through  Juno's  hate 
Have  I  seen  regions  unapproachable, 

^Unknown  to  Phoebus'  rays;  yea,  I  have  seen 
Those  gloomy  spaces  which  the  nether  pole 
Has  yielded  to  the  dusky  Jove's  domain. 
And  had  the  regions  of  the  final  lot 

Been  pleasing,  there  could  I  myself  have  reigned.  610 

That  seething  chaos  of  eternal  night, 
And,  what  is  worse  than  night,  the  gloomy  gods, 

>  And  fates  I  conquered;  and  in  scorn  of  death 
I  have  come  back  again.     What  else  remains? 
I've  seen  and  shown  the  lower  world  to  men. 
If  aught  beyond  is  left  to  do,  command. 
Why  dost  thou  for  so  long  allow  these  hands, 
O  Juno,  to  remain  in  idleness?  615 

What  conquest  still  dost  thou  command  ?     But  why 
Do  soldiers  hold  the  temple  walls  in  siege, 
And  fear  of  arms  beset  their  sacred  doors  ? 
[Enter  Amphitryon.] 
Amphitr.:    Now  do  my  fervent  hopes  deceive  my  sight, 
Or  is  this  he,  the  tamer  of  the  world, 

The  pride  of  Greece,  from  that  sad,  silent  land  620 

Returned  ?     Is  this  my  son  ?     My  aged  limbs 
Give  way  through  utter  joy.     O  son,  of  Thebes 
The  sure  though  long-delayed  preserver  thou! 
And  do  I  hold  thee  sent  to  earth  again, 


140 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Or  doea  Borne  empty  shadow  mock  my  joy? 

And  art  thou  be  indeed?     I  recognize 

Thy  arms  and  shoulders  and  the  mighty  club  625 

Within  thy  hands  renowned. 
Herculi  O  father,  whence 

These  marks  of  grief,  and  why  do  I  behold 

My  wife  in  dusky  mourning  garments  clad, 

My  children  garbed  in  these  vile  signs  of  woe? 

What  fell  disaster  hath  o'erwhelmed  my  house  ? 
Ampliitr.:  Thy  father-in-law  is  slain,  his  kingdom  gone, 

For  Lycus  hath  usurped  it;  now  he  seeks 

Thy  children,  father,  wife,  to  bring  to  death.  630 

Hercules:    Ungrateful  land !  did  no  one  come  to  aid 

The  home  of  Hercules  ?     Did  all  the  world, 
IDefended  by  my  arm,  look  on  this  dee^   - 

And  suffer  it  ?     But  why  waste  time  in  grief  ? 

My  enemy  must  die. 
Theseus  [seeking  to  detain  him]:  O  Hercules, 

Let  not  thy  mighty  courage  bear  this  stain, 

And  such  a  foe  as  Lycus  be  thy  last.  635 

I  go  myself  to  drink  his  hateful  blood. 
Hercules:    My  Theseus,  stay  thou  here,  lest  violence 

From  some  new  source  aris_e.     This  war  is  mine. 

Let  thy  embraces  wait  awhile,  my  sire, 

And  thine,  my  wife.     Let  Lycus  first  announce 

To  Dis  that  I  have  safe  returned  to  earth.  640 

[Exit.] 
Theseus:     Now  let  thy  face  give  o'er  its  grief,  my  queen; 
[And  thou,  O  father,  check  thy  falling  tears, 

Since  this  thy  son  is  safe  returned  to  thee. 

If  I  know  Hercules,  for  Creon's  death 

This  Lycus  soon  shall  pay  the  penalty. 
"Shall  pay"  is  slow;  he  pays;  nay  more,  has  paid. 
Amphitr.:  Now  may  some  favoring  god  our  prayers  fulfil,  645 

And  help  us  in  our  need.     O  trusty  friend 

Of  our  great  son,  his  deeds  in  order  tell: 

How  long  the  way  that  leads  to  the  sorrowing  shades; 

How  bore  the  dog  of  hell  his  heavy  chains. 
Theseus:     Thou  bid'st  me  call  to  memory  such  deeds  650 


Hercules    Furens  141 

As  e'en  in  safety  make  me  tremble  still. 

For  I  can  scarce  believe  that  even  yet 

I  breathe  the  vital  air.     My  eye's  clear  sight 

Is  blinded,  and,  by  that  thick  darkness  dimmed, 

Can  scarce  endure  the  unaccustomed  light. 

Amphilr.:    But  conquer  thou  the  fear  that  still  remains 

Deep  in  thy  heart;  and  do  not  rob  thyself  655 

Of  the  best  fruit  of  toil.     For  what  was  hard 
To  bear  becomes  most  sweet  in  memory. 
Go  on,  and  tell  us  all  thy  sufferings. 

Theseus:     O  god  of  heaven,  and  thou  who  holdest  sway 
In  that  deep,  all-embracing  realm  of  death, 
And  thou  whose  mother  sought  thee  (but  in  vain) 
Through  all  the  world:   your  powers  I  supplicate 
That  I  may  speak  with  boldness  of  the  things  660 

Concealed  and  buried  in  the  hold  of  earth. 
The  Spartan  land  lifts  high  a  famous  cliff 
Where  Taenarus  juts  out  upon  the  sea, 
Dense  wooded.     Here  the  realm  of  hated  Dis 
Opes  wide  its  mouth;  the  high  cliff  spreads  apart,  665 

And  in  a  mighty  cavern  yawns  a  pit 
With  jaws  portentous,  huge,  precipitous; 
And  for  all  nations  ample  passage  gives. 
The  way  begins,  not  dark  with  heavy  shades. 
A  watery  gleam  of  daylight  follows  in, 

And  doubtful  light,  as  of  the  sun  eclipsed,  670 

Falls  there  and  mocks  the  eye.     Such  light  the  day, 
While  mingled  still  with  night,  at  early  dawn 
Or  in  its  waning  hour,  is  wont  to  give. 
The  way  then  broadens  into  spaces  vast 
And  empty,  where  the  human  race  entire 
Might  plunge  and  perish.     'Tis  no  labor  here  675 

To  travel,  for  the  road  itself  draws  down. 
As  often  wliirl{xx>ls  suck  unwilling  ships, 
So  does  the  air,  down  streaming,  urge  us  on, 
And  hungry  chaos.     Here  the  clutching  shades 
Permit  no  backward  step.     Deep  in  the  abyss, 
With  peaceful  shallows  gentle  Lethe  glides,  680 

And  by  its  draughts  removes  all  mortal  care 


[49  The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

And,  thai  no  backward  way  may  !*•  allowed, 

Willi  many  folds  il  wraps  the  stream  of  death; 

Just  as  the  wandering  Maeander  sports 

With  waves  uncertain,  now  upon  itself 

Retreats,  now  halts  in  hesitation  slow,  685 

Whether  it  shall  its  fountain  set  k  again, 
Or  journey  to  the  sea.      Hire  lies  the  marsh 
Of  sluggish,  vile  Cocytus;  here,  behold, 

The  vulture,  there  the  doleful  owl  laments, 

And  through  the  air  die  fearsome  screech-owl  sends 

Its  sad,  foreboding  cry.     There  stands  the  yew, 

Its  Mack  leaves  shuddering  on  the  gloomy  boughs;  690 

Ami  'neath  its  shelter  hover  sluggish  Sleep, 

And  mournful  Famine  with  her  wasting  jaws, 

And  Shame,  at  last  her  guilty  face  concealed. 

Here  quaking  Fear,  and  Murder,  desperate  Grief, 

Black  Mourning,  tottering  Disease,  and  War 

With  weapons  girded  on,  lie  hid;  and  last  695 

Comes  feeble  Age  upon  his  staff  upheld. 

Ampkitr.:    Are  there  no  fruitful  fields  of  corn  or  wine  ? 

Tliescus:      Not  so:  no  joyful  fields  with  verdure  shine, 

No  ripening  grain  waves  gently  in  the  breeze, 
No  stately  trees  bear  apple-laden  boughs;  700 

Hut  sterile  wastes  defile  those  lonely  depths, 
And  in  eternal  sloth  the  foul  earth  lies. 
Here  lie  the  lonesome  remnants  of  the  world. 
tThe  air  hangs  motionless;  and  thick  night  broods 
Upon  a  sluggish,  horror-stricken  land.  705 

The  place  of  death  is  worse  than  death  itself. 

Ampkitr.:    And  what  of  him  who  rules  those  dusky  realms? 
Where  sits  he  as  he  rules  his  shadowy  folk  ? 

Theseus:     There  is  a  place  in  an  obscure  recess 

,-Of  Tartarus,  which,  with  its  heavy  shades,  710 

j  Dense  vapor  shrouds.     Hence,  from  a  single  source, 
Two  different  rivers  flow:   with  silent  stream 
One  bears  along  the  sacred  Stygian  waves 
On  which  the  gods  take  oath;   with  mighty  roar 
The  other  fiercely  rolls  the  rocks  along 
Within  its  flood,  the  raging  Acheron,  715 


H  E  R  c  u  l"e  s    FjuVen  s  143 

Which  may  not  be  recrossed.     Set  opposite, 

By  these  two  streams  encircled,  stands  the  hall 
Of  royal  Dis;  and  by  a  shading  grove 
The  mighty  house  is  hid.     A  spacious  cave 
Of  overhanging  rock  the  threshold  forms. 

This  is  the  path  of  souls;  here  is  the  door  720 

Of  Pluto's  realm;  and,  round  about,  there  spreads 
The  plain  wherein  the  frowning  monarch  sits 
And  new-come  souls  reviews.     Of  lowering  brow 
(  And  awful  majesty  the  god  appears; 
Yet  in  his  face  his  brother's  likeness  bears, 
And  proves  his  noble  birth.     Jove's  face  is  his, 
But  thundering  Jove's.     And  of  that  savage  realm  725 

The  master's  self  makes  up  the  largest  part, 
For  every  fearful  thing  holds  him  in  fear. 

Amphitr.:  And  is  the  story  true  that  down  below 
Stern  justice  is  at  last  administered, 
And  guilty  souls,  who  have  their  crimes  forgot, 
At  last  atone  for  sin  ?     Who  is  he,  then,  730 

Who  searches  out  the  truth,  and  justice  give  s  ? 

Theseus:      There  is  not  one  inquisitor  alone 

Who  sits  in  judgment  on  the  lofty  seat, 

And  tries  the  trembling  culprits:  in  that  hall 

Sit  Cretan  Minos,  Rhadamanthus  too, 

And  Aeacus.     Each  for  his  sins  of  earth  735 

Must  suffer  here;  the  crime  returns  to  him 

Who  did  it,  and  the  guilty  soul  is  crushed 

By  its  own  precedents.     There,  deep  immured 

In  prison,  bloody  leaders  have  I  seen, 

And  bleeding  backs  of  heartless  tyrants,  scourged 

By  base  plebeian  hands.     Who  mildly  reigns, 

And,  though  the  lord  of  life,  restrains  his  hands;  740 

Who  mercifully  rules  a  bloodless  realm, 

And  spares  the  lives  of  men:  he  shall  enjoy 

Long  years  of  happy  life,  and,  at  the  end, 

Attain  to  heaven,  or  to  those  regions  blest 

Of  the  Elysian  fields,  himself  a  judge. 

Refrain  from  human  blood,  all  ye  who  rule:  745 

Your  sins  with  heavier  judgment  shall  be  judged. 


144 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Amphitr.:  Does  any  certain  place  inclose  the  lost, 
And  do,  as  rumor  says,  the  impious 
Sharp  punishments  in  endless  chains  endure  ? 

Theseus:      On  swiftly  flying  wheel  Lrion  turns;  750 

And  on  the  Deck  of  Sisyphus  a  stone 

Weighs  heavily.     There  stands  in  middle  stream, 

With  throat  thirst-parched,  the  poor  old  man,  and  seeks 

To  catch  the  cooling  waves  which  wash  his  chin. 

He,  oft  deceived,  hopes  now  at  last  to  drink; 

As  often  fails  the  water  at  his  lips.  755 

So  also  do  the  fruits  his  hunger  fail. 

There  Tityos  eternal  banquets  gives 

Unto  the  greedy  vulture;  and  in  vain 

Do  Danaus'  daughters  bear  their  brimming  urns. 

There  wander,  raging  still,  the  Cadmeids; 

And  greedy  birds  still  fright  old  Phineus. 
Amphitr.:    Now  tell  the  noble  struggle  of  my  son.  760 

Does  he  bring  back  his  uncle's  willing  gift, 

Or  docs  he  lead  the  dog  as  spoil  of  war  ? 
Theseus:     A  gloomy  cliff  o'erhangs  the  sluggish  shoals, 

Whose  waves  are  dead,  and  waters  motionless. 

This  stream  is  guarded  by  a  grim  old  man, 

Of  squalid  garb  and  aspect  hideous, 

Who  carries  o'er  the  pool  the  quaking  shades.  765 

His  long  beard  hangs  unkempt;  his  shapeless  robe 

Is  knotted  into  place;  his  fierce  eyes  gleam 

From  sunken  cheeks;  and  he,  as  ferryman, 

With  his  long  pole  propels  his  bark  across. 

He  now  his  empty  boat  unto  the  shore 

Was  turning  to  receive  the  waiting  souls,  770 

When  Hercules  requested  to  be  borne 

Across  the  stream.     The  throng  of  shades  give  way; 

But  fiercely  Charon  cries:  "Whither  so  bold 

Dost  thou  haste  on  ?     Stay  there  thy  hurrying  steps." 

Alcmena's  son  would  no  delay  endure, 

But  with  the  pole  itself  the  boatman  tamed, 

And  climbed  aboard  the  boat.     The  roomy  craft,  775 

For  nations  ample,  groaned  beneath  his  weight; 

And  as  he  sat,  the  heavy-weighted  skiff 


Hercules    Furens  145 

With  rocking  sides  drank  in  the  Lethe  stream. 

Then  quaked  the  conquered  monsters  at  the  sight: 

The  Centaurs,  fierce  and  wild,  the  Lapithae, 

Inflamed  to  strife  by  copious  draughts  of  wine; 

And,  seeking  out  the  farthest  pools  of  Styx,  780 

The  beast  of  Lerna  hid  his  fertile  heads. 

Soon  there  appeared  the  home  of  greedy  Dis, 

Where  the  fierce  Stygian  dog  affrights  the  shades, 

Who,  tossing  back  and  forth  his  triple  heads, 

With  mighty  hayings  watches  o'er  the  realm. 

Around  his  head  with  damp  corruption  foul,  785 

Writhe  deadly  serpents,  and  his  shaggy  mane 

With  vipers  bristles;  while  a  twisting  snake 

Forms  his  long,  hissing  tail.     His  wrath  and  form 

Are  both  alike  terrific.     When  he  heard 

The  sound  of  coming  feet,  straightway  he  raised 

His  hackles,  bristling  with  their  darting  snakes, 

And  with  erected  ears  caught  at  the  sound  790 

(  For  even  noiseless  spirits  can  he  hear). 

When  Jove's  son  nearer  came,  within  his  cave 

The  dog  stood  hesitant,  and  nameless  fear 

Each  of  the  other  felt.     Then  suddenly 

The  silence  shudders  with  his  hayings  deep, 

And  threatening  snakes  along  his  shoulders  hiss. 

The  clamor  of  his  dreadful  voice,  sent  forth  795 

Three-throated,  even  happy  shades  dismayed. 

Then  did  the  hero  from  his  left  arm  loose 

The  lion's  skin  with  head  and  grinning  jaws, 

And  'neath  this  mighty  shield  opposed  the  dog. 

Then  in  his  right  all  conquering,  he  raised  800 

His  mighty  club,  and  with  a  rain  of  blows, 

Now  here,  now  there,  he  drove  the  frightened  beast. 

The  conquered  dog  at  last  gave  o'er  his  threats, 

And,  spent  with  fighting,  lowered  all  his  heads, 

And  left  the  entrance  free.     Then  did  the  king 

And  queen  of  hell  sit  trembling  on  their  thrones,  805 

And  bade  the  dog  be  led  away.     Me,  too, 

Did  Dis  at  Hercules'  request  release, 

A  royal  gift.     Then  with  his  soothing  hand 


146  The    Tra'gedies    of    Seneca 

Alcides  Btroked  the  monster's  massive  Decks, 
And  bound  him  with  an  adamantine  chain. 
The  watchful  guardian  of  the  dusky  world 

ForgOl  his  wonted  fierceness,  and  his  tars 

Drooped  timidly,     lie  let  himself  be  led,  8ro 

Confessed  Ins  master,  and,  with  muzzle  low, 

Submissively  he  went,  his  snaky  tail 

Beating  his  sides  the  while.     Hut  when  he  came 

To  Taenarus,  and  in  his  eyes  there  smote 

The  gleam  of  unknown  light,  though  strongly  bound,  815 

His  courage  he  regained  and  madly  shook 

His  mighty  chains.     Even  his  conqueror 

Was  backward  borne  and  forced  to  yield  his  stand. 

Then  even  my  aid  did  the  hero  seek; 

And  with  united  strength  we  dragged  the  dog, 

Still  mad  with  rage,  attempting  fruitless  war,  820 

Into  the  upper  world.     But  when  he  saw 

The  gleaming  spaces  of  the  shining  sky, 

The  light  of  day,  thick  darkness  blinded  him; 

He  turned  his  gaze  to  earth,  and  closed  his  eyes, 

Expelled  the  hated  light,  looked  backward,  sought  825 

With  all  his  necks  the  sheltering  earth;  and  last, 

He  hid  his  head  within  Alcides'  shade. 

But  see,  a  mighty  throng  with  shouts  of  joy 

Comes  yonder,  wearing  laurel  on  their  brows, 

Who  chant  the  well-earned  praise  of  Hercules. 


CI;  or  us:  Eurystheus,  brought  untimely  forth,  830 

Had  bidden  Hercules  to  pierce 
The  depths  of  earth.     This  task  alone 
Of  all  his  labors  yet  remained — 
To  rob  the  dusky  king  of  hell. 
He  dared  to  enter  that  dark  way 

Which  to  the  distant  manes  leads,  835 

Dismal,  with  gloomy  forests  set, 
Yet  crowded  with  the  thronging  souls. 
As  when  the  eager  people  haste 
Throughout  the  city  to  behold 
The  play  in  some  new  theater; 


Hercules    Furens  147 

As  when  they  crowd  the  Pisan  fields  840 

When  the  fifth  summer  brings  again 

The  Elean  Thunderer's  sacred  games; 

As,  when  the  lengthening  nights  return, 

And  the  balanced  Scales  the  sun's  bright  car 

Detain,  to  gentle  sleep  inclined, 

The  people  throng  the  mysteries  845 

Of  Ceres,  while  the  Attic  priests 

Lead  through  the  fields  with  hurried  steps 

The  worshipers:  such  thronging  hordes 

Are  driven  through  those  silent  plains. 

A  part  goes  slow  with  steps  of  age, 

Sadly,  and  sated  with  the  years;  850 

Some,  in  the  earlier  flush  of  life, 

Advance  with  the  sprightly  step  of  youth, 

Young  maids  not  yet  in  wedlock  joined, 

And  boys  with  flowing  ringlets,  babes, 

Who  have  not  yet  learned  to  repeat 

Their  mother's  name.     To  these  alone  855 

'Tis  given  to  dispel  the  night 

With  torches,  and  their  fears  relieve. 

The  rest  in  utter  darkness  fare, 

And  sadness.     So  our  spirits  mourn, 

When  each  one,  grieving  o'er  his  fate, 

Feels  crushed  in  darkness  'neath  the  weight  860 

Of  all  the  world.     There  chaos  reigns, 

Repulsive  glooms,  the  hateful  dark 

Of  night,  the  empty  veil  of  clouds, 

The  weary  inactivity 

Of  that  still,  empty  universe. 

Oh,  may  the  time  far  distant  be 

When  old  age  bears  us  to  that  land. 

None  come  too  late,  and  ne'er  can  he,  865 

Who  once  has  come,  return  again. 

What  need  to  hasten  cruel  fate  ? 

For  all  the  wandering  tribes  of  earth 

Shall  surely  seek  the  land  of  shades, 

And  on  the  still  Cocytus  spread 

Their  sails;  all  things  the  sun  beholds,  870 


{> 


[48  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

In  rising  and  in  Betting,  grow 

But  to  decay.    Then  Bpare,  0  death, 

Those  who  are  doomed  to  come  to  thee. 

Life  is  but  practicing  for  death;  - 

Though  thou  lx.1  slow  in  coming,  still 

We  hasten  of  ourselves.     The  hour 

Which  gave  us  life  begins  our  death. 

The  joyful  day  of  Thebes  is  here;  875 

Now  at  the  altars  sacrifice, 

And  let  the  choicest  victims  fall. 

Ye  maids  and  nun,  in  mingled  bands 

'Begin  the  stately  choral  dance; 

And  let  the  cattle  of  the  fields  880 

Put  off  their  yokes  and  be  glad  today; 

For  by  the  hand  of  Hercules 

Has  peace  from  east  to  west  been  won, 

And  in  that  land  where  the  sun  rides  high 

In  middle  heaven,  and  the  shadows  fail.  885 

Whatever  region  Tethys  laves 

In  her  long  reach  has  been  o'crcome 

By  great  Alcides'  toils.     Borne  now 

Across  the  shoals  of  Tartarus, 

With  hell  subdued,  he  comes  again.  890 

No  room  is  left  for  fear;  for  what 

Beyond  the  world  of  death  remains  ? 
And  now  ye  priests,  adorn  your  bristling  hair 
With  poplar  which  Alcides  loves  to  wear. 

ACT  IV 

[Enter  Hercules,    fresh  from  the  slaying  of  Lycus,  intending  to  offer 

sacrifices  to  the  gods.] 
Hercules:    By  my  avenging  hand  lies  Lycus  slain;  895 

And  all,  who  in  his  life  the  tyrant  claimed 

As  comrades,  now  by  death  are  comrades  still 

In  punishment.     Now  will  I  offerings  pay 

Unto  my  father  and  the  gods  of  heaven 

For  victory,  and  heap  the  altars  high 

With  bleeding  victims  to  their  kindness  due. 

Thee,  thee,  O  friend  and  helper  in  my  toils,  900 


Hercules    Furens  149 

O  warlike  Pallas,  unto  thee  I  pray, 

Upon  whose  left  the  petrifying  shield 

Makes  direful  threats.     And  be  thou  here  I  pray, 

Thou  tamer  of  Lycurgus,  who  didst  cross 

The  ruddy  sea,  who  in  thy  hand  dost  bear 

The  thyrsus,  ivy-wreathed;  and  ye  twin  gods, 

Apollo  and  Diana,  hear  my  prayer.  905 

(Her  hand  the  bow  adorns,  but  his,  the  lyre.) 

Ye,  too,  I  worship,  all  ye  brothers  mine, 

Who  dwell  in  heaven;  but  not  my  stepdame's  sons. 

[To  his  attendants.] 
And  do  ye  hither  drive  my  richest  flocks; 
Whatever  fragrant  spices  India  bears  910 

And  far  Arabia,  to  the  altars  bring, 
And  let  the  savor}'  smoke  of  sacrifice 
To  heaven  ascend.     Now  let  us  crown  our  locks 
With  wreaths  of  poplar;  but  the  olive  leaves, 
Thy  nation's  symbol,  should  adorn  thy  head, 
O  Theseus.     Now  in  prayer  we  lift  our  hands 
To  Jove  the  Thunderer:  do  thou  protect  915 

The  founders  of  our  state,  the  wooded  caves 
Of  savage  Zethus,  Dirce's  famous  fount, 
CAnd  the  Tyrian  lares  of  our  pilgrim  king. 
[To  the  attendants.] 
Now  throw  the  fragrant  incense  on  the  flames. 

Amphilr.:   O  son,  thy  hands,  all  dripping  with  the  blood 
Of  thy  slain  foe,  thou  first  shouldst  purify. 

Hercules:    Would  that  his  hateful  blood  I  might  pour  out  920 

Unto  the  gods;  for  no  libation  poured 
Could  stain  the  altars  more  acceptably. 
No  ampler,  richer  victim  could  be  paid 
To  mighty  Jove,  than  this  unrighteous  king. 

Amphitr.:   Beseech  thy  father  that  he  end  thy  tasks; 

Pray  that  at  last  he  give  surcease  of  toil,  925 

And  to  the  wearied  rest. 

Hercules:  I  shall  myself 

Frame  prayers  more  worthy  Jupiter  and  me : 
May  heaven,  earth,  and  air  their  order  keep, 
And  the  everlasting  stars  wheel  on  their  way, 


1 50  The    T  r  a  o  e  n  i  e  s    of    Seneca 

Unchanged;  may  peace  profound  brood  o'er  the  world; 

May  in>n  U'  used  for  harmless  toil  alone,  930 

And  deadly  weapons  vanish  from  the  earth; 

May  no  unbridled  tempest  lash  the  sea; 

May  angry  Jove  semi  forth  do  lightning  holts; 

And  may  no  river,  fed  by  winter's  snows, 

O'erflow  the  troubled  fields;  may  venom  fail; 

And  may  DO  noxious  herb  its  fruitage  bear;  935 

May  fierce  and  cruel  tyrants  rule  no  more. 

If  the  pregnant  earth  still  foster  any  crime, 
iLet  her  make  haste  to  bring  it  to  the  light; 

And  if  she  still  another  monster  bear, 

Lei  it  be  mine  to  meet. 
[The  madness  planned  by  Juno  begins  to  conic  upon  hint.] 

But  what  is  this  ? 

The  day's  bright  noon  is  by  dark  shadows  dimmed,  940 

And,  though  the  sky  be  cloudless,  Phoebus  fares 
vWith  face  obscured.     Who  puts  the  day  to  flight, 

And  drives  it  back  to  seek  the  dawn  again  ? 

Whence  rears  unheard-of  night  its  gloomy  head? 

Why  do  so  many  stars  the  heavens  fill 

In  daylight  hours  ?     See  where  the  Lion  fierce, 

My  earliest  labor,  glitters  in  the  sky,  945 

Inflamed  with  wrath,  and  threatens  with  his  fangs. 

Now,  surely,  will  he  some  bright  star  devour. 

With  gaping  jaws  and  menacing  he  stands; 

He  breathes  out  fire,  and  on  his  flaming  neck 

His  mane  he  tosses.     Soon  will  he  o'erleap 

With  one  huge  bound  the  fruitful  autumn's  stars, 

And  those  which  frozen  winter  brings  to  view,  950 

And  slay  with  savage  lunge  the  vernal  Bull. 
Amphitr.:    What  sudden  ill  is  this?     Why  dost  thou  turn 

Now  here  now  there  thy  burning  eyes  ?    And  why 

Dost  thou  so  falsely  see  the  heavens  ?    V 
Hercules:    Now  is  the  whole  round  earth  at  last  subdued;  955 

The  swollen  seas  give  place,  and  e'en  the  realms 

Infernal  have  our  toils  heroic  known. 

The  heavens  alone  remain  untried,  a  task 

Well  worth  the  struggles  of  a  Hercules.    ^ 


Hercules    Furens  151 

Now  shall  I  soar  aloft  to  those  far  heights, 

And  seek  the  heavenly  spaces;  for  a  star 

Has  Jupiter,  my  father,  promised  me. 

What  if  he  should  refuse  ?     Nay,  but  the  earth  960 

No  longer  can  Alcidcs  hold,  and  now 

Returns  him  to  the  heavens  whence  he  came. 

Behold,  the  whole  assembly  of  the  gods 

Invite  me  to  their  midst,  and  open  wide 

The  doors  of  heaven — with  one  dissenting  voice. 
[To  Juno,  in  apostrophe.] 

And  wilt  thou  not  receive  me  into  heaven? 

Wilt  not  unbar  the  gates?     Wouldst  have  me  rend 

The  portals  of  the  stubborn  sky  away  ? 

And  dost  doubt  thou  my  power  ?    Nay,  Saturn's  chains        965 

Will  I  unbind,  and  loose  my  grandsire's  might 

Against  his  impious  son's  unbridled  sway. 

I'll  stir  the  Titans  up  to  war  again, 

And  lead  them  on;  great  rocks  and  trees  I'll  bring, 

And  with  my  strong  right  hand  I'll  snatch  and  hurl 

The  ridges  where  the  Centaurs  have  their  home.  970 

Two  mountains,  one  on  other,  will  I  pile 

And  so  construct  a  highway  to  the  skies. 

Then  shall  old  Chiron  see  Mount  Ossa  placed 

Upon  his  Pelion;  and  if  to  heaven 

Olympus  reach  not,  third  in  order  set, 

I'll  hurl  it  there. 
Amphitryon:  Such  thought  be  far  from  t' 

\  Check  this  mad  impulse  of  a  heart  insane,    /  975 

(  Though  great. 
Hercules:  But  what  is  this?     With  dire  intent 

The  giants  are  in  arms.     Great  Tityus 

Has  fled  the  shades,  and,  towering  aloft 

With  torn  and  empty  breast,  has  almost  gained 

The  heavens.     Cithaeron  totters  to  his  base, 

Pallene  trembles,  Tempe  faints  in  fear.  9.S0 

One  has  Mount  Pindus  snatched  away,  and  one 

Mount  Oeta.     Mimas  rages  horribly. 

Now  comes  Erinnvs  with  her  flaming  torch, 

And  shakes  In  r  hissing  scourge;  my  face  she  seeks 


i  53  T  H  1       T  R  A  G  EDIES      0  F      S  E  N  E  C  A 

v  arer  and  Dearer  with  ill-omened  brands 

On  funeral  pyres  enkindled.    There  I  see 

Tisiphone  with  snake-encircled  head;  985 

With  brandished  torch  she  guards  the  gate  <>f  hell, 

Now  that  their  watch-dog  has  been  Stolen  away. 
[//<•  catches  sight  <>j  his  children.] 

But  see  wlurc  lurk  the  children  of  the  king, 

The  impious  spawn  of  Lycus  whom  I  hate. 

To  your  detested  sire  I'll  send  you  now. 

Let  darting  arrows  from  my  bowstring  fly;  990 

Such  errands  fit  my  noble  weapons  well. 

[  //c  aims  an  arrow  at  one  0)  the  children.] 
Amphitr.:  What  will  he  do  in  his  blind  passion's  rage? 

Now  he  has  bent  his  mighty  bow,  and  now 

His  quiver  loosed.     The  hissing  dart  is  sped. 

Straight  through  the  neck  it  flics,  and  leaves  the  wound. 
Hercules:    The  rest  will  I  hunt  out,  yea,  all  that  lurk  995 

Within  this  city's  walls,  without  delay. 

A  greater  war  against  Mycenae  waits, 

That  by  my  hands  those  Cyclopean  walls 

May  be  o'erthrown;  and  that  the  royal  hall, 

Its  high  walls  shattered,  noble  roof  in-fall'n, 

Doors  burst,  may  be  to  utter  ruin  brought,  1000 

And  all  its  royal  secrets  be  revealed. 

[He  sees  his  second  son  hiding.] 

Ah,  here  I  see  another  hiding  son 

Of  that  most  wicked  sire. 

[He  seizes  lite  child  and  drags  him  Jrom  the  scene.] 
Amphitryon  [standing  where  he  can  see  what  is  being  done  behind  tlie 

scenes] : 

Behold  the  child, 

His  coaxing  hands  stretched  out  to  clasp  the  knees 

Of  his  mad  father,  begs  with  piteous  tones. 

Oh,  crime  unspeakable,  pathetic,  grim: 

For  by  his  pleading  hand  the  child  is  caught,  1005 

And,  madly  whirled  again  and  yet  again, 

Sent  headlong  through  the  air.     A  sickening  sound — 

And  with  his  scattered  brains  the  roof  is  wet. 

But  wretched  Megara,  her  little  son 


Hercules    Furens  153 

Protecting  in  her  arms,  flees  madly  forth. 
Hercules  [behind  the  scenes,  to  Megara  also  behind  the  scenes]:  Though 

thou  shouldst  hide  thee  in  the  Thunderer's  arms,         1010 

This  hand  of  mine  will  seek  and  snatch  thee  forth. 
Amphitryon  [standing  throughout  this  scene  as  aboz>e]:  Oh,  whither, 
wretched  woman,  dost  thou  flee  ? 

What  flight,  what  hiding-places  dost  thou  seek  ? 

No  place  is  safe  from  angry  Hercules. 

Embrace  his  knees  the  rather,  and  with  prayer 

Attempt  to  soothe  his  wrath.  1015 

The  voice  of  Megara:  O  husband,  spare; 

Thy  Megara  behold  and  recognize; 

This  son  of  thine  thy  face  and  manner  bears. 

See  how  he  stretches  out  his  hands  to  thee. 
The  voice  0}  Hercules:  At  last  I  have  thee,  stepdame,  in  my  power. 

Come  thou  with  me,  and  pay  full  penalty 

For  all  my  wrongs;  free  thy  poor,  troubled  lord 

From  his  base  yoke.     But  ere  the  mother  dies,  1020 

This  little  monster  must  be  put  to  death. 
The  voice  of  Megara:   What  wouldst  thou,  madman  ?     Shed  thine 

infant's  blood  ? 
Amphitr.:  The  child,  in  terror  of  his  father's  face, 

Died  ere  he  felt  the  blow.     'Twas  fear  that  snatched 

His  spirit  forth.     Now  'gainst  his  trembling  wife, 

His  mighty  club  is  raised — her  bones  are  crushed, 

Her  head  is  stricken  from  the  mangled  trunk  1025 

And  may  no  more  be  seen. 

[To  him  self.] 

O  stubborn  age, 

Too  long  enduring,  canst  thou  bide  this  sight  ? 

But  if  thy  grief  is  irksome,  death  is  near. 
[To  Hercules.] 

Impale  me  on  thy  darts;  that  club  of  thine, 

With  blood  of  monsters  smeared,  raise  to  my  death. 

Come,  slay  me  who  am  falsely  called  thy  sire,  1030 

And  so  remove  this  blot  upon  thy  name, 

That  I  no  longer  may  thy  fame  obscure. 
Theseus:     Why  sliouldst  thou  wantonly  provoke  thy  death, 

Old  man  ?     Why  this  mad  haste  to  die  ?    Away, 


iS4 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Hercules: 


Amphitr. 


Chorus: 


And  hide.     From  this  one  crime  spare  Hercules. 
[Enter  I  [ercules.] 

"l'is  will;   the  household  <>f  tlie  shameless  king 
Is  utterly  destroyed.     To  thee,  O  wife 
Of  mighty  Jove,  this  promised  sacrifice 
Have  I  performed;  my  vows  I've  gladly  paid; 
And  other  victims  shall  thine  Argos  give. 
Thou  hast  not  yet  enough  atonement  made, 
O  son.     Complete  the  sacrifice.     Behold, 
A  victim  at  the  altar  stands,  and  waits, 
With  willing  neck,  thy  hand.     I  offer  here 
My  life,  and  eagerly;  I  seek  to  die. 
Slay  me. 

[Hercules  appears  to  be  fainting.] 
But  what  is  this  ?     His  eye's  keen  glance 
Cannot  maintain  its  gaze;  grief  dims  his  sight; 
And  do  I  see  the  hands  of  Hercules 
A-tremble  ?     Now  his  eyelids  fall  in  sleep, 
His  head  sinks  down  upon  his  weary  breast, 
His  knees  give  way,  and  down  upon  the  earth 
His  whole  great  body  falls;  as  when  some  ash 
Is  felled  in  forest  glades,  or  when  some  cliff 
Falls  down  and  makes  a  harbor  in  the  sea. 

[To  Hercules.] 
Dost  thou  yet  live  ?     Or  has  thy  furious  rage, 
Which  sent  thy  friends  to  death,  slain  thee  as  well  ? 

[He  examines  the  prostrate  body.] 
He  slumbers;  this  his  measured  breathing  proves. 
Let  him  have  time  for  rest,  that  heavy  sleep 
May  break  his  madness'  force,  and  so  relieve  * 
His  troubled  heart. 

[To  attendants.] 
Ye  slaves,  his  arms  remove, 
Lest,  waking,  he  again  his  madness  prove. 


i°3S 


1040 


1045 


1050 


Let  heaven  and  heaven's  creator  mourn, 
The  fertile  earth,  the  wandering  wave 
Upon  the  restless  sea.     And  thou, 
Who  over  lands  and  ocean's  plains 


io55 


Hercules    Furens 


i55 


Dost  shed  thy  light,  whose  beauteous  face 
Drives  night  away,  O  glowing  Sun, 
Grieve  more  than  all.     For  equally 
Thy  risings  had  Alcides  seen, 
And  eke  thy  settings;  both  thy  homes 
Were  known  to  him.     His  spirit  loose 
From  monstrous  madness;  loose  him,  ye 
Who  rule  above.     His  mind  restore 
To  sanity  again.     And  thou, 
O  Sleep,  subduer  of  our  ills, 
The  spirit's  rest,  thou  better  part 
Of  human  life,  swift-winged  one, 
Astraea's  child,  of  cruel  Death 
The  sluggish  brother,  mixing  false 
With  true,  prescient  of  future  things, 
But  oftenest  of  misery; 
O  sire  of  all  things,  gate  of  life, 
Day's  respite  and  the  comrade  true 
Of  night,  who  com'st  impartially 
To  king  and  slaves,  with  gentle  hand 
The  wearied  spirit  comforting; 
Thou  who  dost  force  the  race  of  men 
Who  quail  at  mortal  doom,  to  gain 
A  foretaste  of  the  sleep  of  death : 
Subdue  and  overwhelm  him  quite 
With  heavy  stupor;  let  his  limbs, 
Unconquered  hitherto,  be  held 
Fast  bound  in  chains  of  deepest  sleep; 
Take  not  the  spell  from  his  fierce  heart, 
Until  his  former  mind  return 
To  its  accustomed  course. 
But  see,  prone  on  the  ground  he  lies, 
His  savage  dreams  in  his  fierce  heart 
JStill  hold  their  sway.     Not  yet,  alas, 
Is  his  dire  madness  overcome. 
Accustomed  to  recline  his  head 
Upon  his  heavy  club,  see  now, 
He  feels  about  with  empty  hand 
To  find  the  ponderous  trunk,  his  arms 


1060 


1065 


1070 


i°75 


1080 


1085 


1 56  TnE    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

\\  ith  fruitless  motion  tossed,    Not  yet 

Has  all  the  fever  from  his  veins 

Been  driven  out,  bul  rages  <>n; 

As  waves,  by  mighty  tempests  vexed,  1090 

Toss  wildly  on  and  swell  with  rage, 

Although  the  winds  have  ceased  to  blow. 

Oh,  calm  this  tempest  in  his  soul; 

I.  t  piety  and  manly  strength 

Return;  or,  rather,  let  his  mind  1095 

Be  still  by  mad  impulses  stirred, 

And  his  blind  error  go  the  way 

It  has  begun.     For  madness  now 

Alone  can  make  him  innocent. 
I  To  have  the  hands  unstained  by  guilt 

Is  best,  but  next  to  this  is  sin 

Done  in  unconsciousness. 

Now  let  thy  breast  resound  with  blows,  1100 

tAnd  let  those  arms  which  once  have  borne 
)The  heavens  up  be  smitten  now 

By  thy  victorious  hands;  thy  cries 

Be  heard  throughout  the  realms  of  air, 

By  her  who  rules  the  world  of  night,  1105 

And  Cerberus  crouching  in  his  cave, 

His  neck  still  burdened  with  thy  chains. 

Let  Chaos  with  the  dolorous  sound 

Re-echo,  and  the  widespread  waves 

Of  ocean,  and  the  air  above  11 10 

Which  had  thy  darts  in  better  use 

Beheld.     Thy  breast,  with  ills  beset 

So  mighty,  must  with  no  light  blow 

Be  smitten.     With  one  great  sound  of  grief 

Let  heaven,  sea,  and  hell  be  filled. 

And  thou,  brave  shaft,  above  his  neck  11 15 

So  long  suspended,  armament 

And  wreapon  too,  thou  quiver  huge, 

Smite  heavily  his  savage  back. 

Thou  sturdy  club  of  oak,  come  beat 

His  mighty  shoulders,  and  oppress  1120 

His  breast  with  thy  hard-knotted  stock. 


Hercules    Furens  157 

Let  all  his  weapons  worthily 

Of  so  great  grief  lament  with  him. 
[To  the  dead  children.] 

But  you,  who  in  your  father's  praise 

Can  never  share,  who  ne'er  from  kings 

Have  taken  deadly  recompense, 

Who  never  in  the  Argive  games 

Have  learned  to  bend  your  youthful  limbs, 

In  wrestling  and  in  boxing  strong  1125 

To  strive;  who  have  but  dared  as  yet 

To  poise  the  slender  Scythian  dart 

With  steady  hand,  and  pierce  the  stag 

Who  safety  seeks  in  flight,  but  not 
\  The  lion  fierce  with  tawny  mane:  1130 

Go  to  your  Stygian  refuge,  go, 

Ye  guiltless  shades,  who  on  life's  verge 

Have  by  your  father's  mad  assault 

Been  overwhelmed.     Poor  children,  born 

Of  an  ill-omened,  luckless  race,  1135 

Fare  on  along  your  father's  toilsome  path, 
To  where  the  gloomy  monarchs  sit  in  wrath ! 

ACT  V 

Hercules  [waking  up  in  his  right  mind]:  What  place  is  this? 

.  What  quarter  of  the  world  ? 

Ouuij  Where  am  I  ?     'Neath  the  rising  sun,  or  where 

The  frozen  Bear  wheels  slowly  overhead  ? 

Or  in  that  farthest  land  whose  shores  are  washed  1 1 40 

By  the  Hesperian  sea  ?     What  air  is  this 

I  breathe?     What  soil  supports  my  weary  frame? 

For  surely  have  I  come  again  to  earth. 

[His  eyes  fall  on  his  murdered  children.] 

Whence  came  those  bloody  corpses  in  my  house  ? 

Do  I  behold  them,  or  not  even  yet 

Have  those  infernal  visions  left  my  mind  ?  1145 

Even  on  earth  the  ghostly  shapes  of  death 

Still  flit  before  mine  eyes.     I  speak  with  shame: 

I  am  afraid.     Sonu-  great  calamity, 

Some  hidden  ill  my  prescient  soul  forebodes. 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


&'■ 


Where  is  my  father?    Where  my  faithful  wife, 
Proud  of  that  troop  of  children  al  her  side?  1150 

Why  does  my  left  Bide  miss  the  lion's  skin, 
Mv  shield  in  danger  and  my  couch  in  sleep? 
Where  is  my  bow,  my  darts?    Who,  while  I  live, 
Has  dared  remove  my  amis?    Who  so  great  s]x>ils 
lias  gained?    Who  then  so  hold  as  not  to  fear  1155 

The  very  slumber  of  a  Hercules  ? 
Twould  please  me  well  to  see  my  victor — well. 
Arise,  thou  victor,  whom  my  sire  begot, 
A  later  wonder,  leaving  heaven  behind; 
At  whose  begetting,  longer  than  at  mine, 
The  night  stood  waiting. 
[He  recognizes  his  dead  wife  and  children.] 

Oh,  what  sight  is  this  ? 
My  sons  lie  murdered,  weltering  in  their  blood;  n 60 

My  wife  is  slain.     What  Lycus  rules  the  land  ? 
Who  could  have  dared  to  do  such  things  in  Thebes, 
And  Hercules  returned  ?     Whoever  dwells 
Along  Ismenus'  stream,  in  Attic  plains, 

Or  in  the  land  Dardanian  Pelops  rules,  11 65 

By  two  seas  lapped,  come  to  my  aid,  and  tell 
The  name  of  him  who  has  this  murder  done. 
If  not,  my  wrath  will  turn  against  you  all; 
For  he's  my  foe  who  shows  me  not  my  foe. 
Why  dost  thou  hide,  Alcides'  vanquisher  ? 
I  care  not  whether  thou  dost  vengeance  seek 
For  those  wild  horses  of  the  Thracian  king,  11 70 

Or  Geryon's  flock,  or  Libya's  vanquished  lords; 
I  do  not  shun  the  fight;  see,  here  I  stand, 
Defenseless,  even  though  with  my  own  arms 
Thou  com'st  against  me,  armorless.     But  why 
Do  Theseus  and  my  father  shun  my  glance  ? 
Why  do  they  turn  away  ?     Postpone  your  tears,  n  75 

And  tell  me  who  has  given  my  loved  ones  all 
To  death.     What,  father,  art  thou  silent  still  ? 
Then  do  thou  tell  me,  Theseus,  faithful  friend. 
Each  turns  away  in  silence,  and  his  face, 
As  if  in  shame,  conceals;  while  down  his  cheeks 


Hercules    Fur  ens  159 

The  tears  flow  stealthily.     In  so  great  ills 

What  cause  for  shame  can  be  ?     Is  this  the  work  1180 

Of  him  who  ruthlessly  at  Argos  rules? 

Has  dying  Lycus'  hostile  soldiery 

With  such  disaster  overwhelmed  our  house? 

0  father,  by  the  praises  of  my  deeds, 

By  thine  own  name  which  ever  was  to  me 

Propitious,  tell,  I  pray  thee,  who  it  is 

Who  hath  o'erthrown  my  house.     Whose  prey  am  I  ?  1185 

Amphitr.:  Let  ills  like  these  in  silence  pass  away. 
'  Hercules:    And  I  be  unavenged  ? 
Amphitryon:  But  vengeance  hurts. 

Hercules:    Who  has,  inactive,  ever  borne  such  wrongs  ? 
Amphitr.:  He  who  feared  greater  wrongs. 
Hercules:  Than  these  my  wrongs 

Can  any  greater,  heavier  be  feared  ?  1 190 

Amphitr.:  The  part  thou  knowest  of  thy  woes  is  least. 
Hercules:    Have  pity.     See,  I  stretch  my  suppliant  hands. 

But  what  is  this  ?     He  will  not  touch  my  hands. 

In  these  must  be  the  sin. 

But  whence  this  blood  ? 

Why  is  that  shaft,  once  dipped  in  Hydra's  gall,  1195 

Now  wet  with  infant  gore  ?    They  are  my  own, 

These  arrows  that  I  see;  the  guilty  hand 

1  need  no  longer  seek;  for  who  but  me 

Could  bend  that  mighty  bow,  or  whose  right  hand 
Could  draw  the  string  that  scarcely  yields  to  me  ? 

[To  Amphitryon  and  Theseus.] 
To  you  I  turn  again.     O  father,  tell: 

Is  this  my  deed  ?  1200 

[Both  men  hesitate  in  silence.] 
They  hesitate — 'tis  mine. 
Amphitr.:  Thine  is  the  grief;  thy  stepdame's  is  the  crime. 
From  fault  of  thine  this  sad  mischance  is  free. 
Hercules:    Now  hurl  thy  wrathful  bolts  from  all  the  heavens, 
O  sire,  who  hast  forgotten  me,  thy  son; 
Avenge  at  least,  though  with  a  tardy  hand, 
Thy  grandsons.     Let  the  star-set  heavens  resound, 
And  darting  lightnings  leap  from  pole  to  pole.  1205 


lOO 


The     Tragedies    of    Seneca 


a 


i* 


.  Ampliitr.: 

Hercules: 


Lei  me  be  bound  upon  the  Caspian  rocks, 

And  let  the  birds  <>f  prey  devour  my  ilcsh. 

Why  lacks  Prometheus'  cliff  a  prisoner? 

Prepare  for  me  the  bare,  steep  mountain  side 

( >i'  Caucasus,  that,  on  l>is  towering  peak, 

The  birds  and  beasts  <>f  prey  may  feed  on  me. 

Or  let  the  blue  Symplcgades,  which  hedge  1210 

The  Scythian  deep,  stretch  out  my  fettered  hands 

This  way  and  that;  and,  when  with  rhythmic  change 

The  rocks  together  clash,  which  fling  to  heaven 

The  sea  thai  lies  between  the  rushing  cliffs, 

May  I  lie  there,  the  mountains'  restless  check.  1215 

Or  why  not  heap  a  mighty  pyre  of  wood, 

And  burn  my  body  stained  with  impious  blood  ? 

Thus,  thus  it  must  be  done;  so  Hercules 

Shall  to  the  lower  world  return  again. 

Not  yet  has  madness  ceased  to  vex  his  heart. 

But  now  his  wrath  has  changed,  and,  fury's  sign,  1220 

He  rages  'gainst  himself. 

Ye  dire  abodes 
Of  fiends,  ye  prison-house  of  damned  shades, 
Ye  regions  set  apart  for  guilty  throngs, 
If  any  place  of  exile  lie  beyond 
Deep  Erebus,  unknown  to  Cerberus 

And  me,  there  hide  ye  me.     I'll  go  and  dwell  1225 

Upon  the  farthest  bound  of  Tartarus. 
O  heart,  too  hard!  Who  worthily  will  weep 
For  you,  my  children,  scattered  through  my  house  ? 
This  face,  woe-hardened,  knows  not  how  to  weep. 
Bring  me  my  sword,  and  give  me  here  my  darts,  1230 

My  mighty  club. 

[He  addresses  the  jour  corpses  in  order.] 
For  thee,  poor  murdered  boy, 
I'll  break  my  shafts;  for  thee  my  mighty  bow 
Shall  be  asunder  riven;  to  thy  shades 
My  heavy  club  shall  burn;  and  on  thy  pyre 
My  quiver,  full  of  venomed  darts,  shall  lie. 
My  arms  shall  pay  their  penalty  for  sin.  1235 

You,  too,  my  guilty  hands,  with  these  shall  burn, 


Hercules    Furens  161 

Too  prompt  to  work  a  cruel  slepdame's  will. 
Theseus:  \  Who  ever  called  an  act  of  madness  crime  ? 
Hercules:  j  Unbridled  madness  often  ends  in  crime. 
Amphitr.:   Now  is  there  need  of  Hercules  to  bear 

This  greatest  weight  of  woe. 
Hercules:  Not  yet  is  shame  1240 

So  utterly  extinguished  in  my  heart, 

That  I  can  bear  to  see  all  people  flee 

My  impious  presence.     Arms,  my  Theseus,  arms! 

I  pray  you  give  them  quickly  back  to  me. 
_If  I  am  sane,  trust  weapons  to  my  hands; 
7  If  madness  still  remains,  O  father,  fly; 

For  I  shall  quickly  find  the  road  to  death.  1245 

Amphitr.:   By  holy  ties  of  birth,  and  by  the  name 

That  makes  us  one,  be  it  of  father  true, 

Or  foster-father;  by  these  hoary  locks 

Which  pious  souls  revere:  I  pray  thee  spare 

My  lonely  age  and  my  enfeebled  years. 

Spare  thou  thyself  to  me,  the  only  prop  1250 

Of  this  my  falling  house,  the  only  light 

That's  left  to  cheer  my  woeful  heart.     No  fruit 

Of  all  thy  toils  have  I  as  yet  enjoyed; 

But  ever  either  stormy  seas  I've  feared, 

Or  monsters.     Every  savage  king  who  raves 

In  all  the  world,  for  impious  altars  famed,  1255 

Is  cause  of  dread  to  me.     Thy  father  longs 

For  joy  of  thee,  to  feel  and  see  thee  near. 
Hercules:    Why  I  should  longer  keep  my  soul  in  life, 

And  linger  on  the  earth,  there  is  no  cause; 

For  I  have  lost  my  all:  my  balanced  mind,  1260 

My  arms,  my  reputation,  children,  wife, 
j"  The  glory  of  my  strength — my  madness  too. 
>if  There  is  no  remedy  for  tainted souls; 
V  But  death  alone  can  cure  me  of  my  sin. 
Amphitr.:  ,And  wilt  thou  slay  thy  father? 
Hercules:  Lest  I  do, 

I'll  kill  myself. 
Amphitryon:  Before  thy  father's  face? 

Hercules:    Such  impious  sights  I've  taught  him  to  behold. 


i6a  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


4 


Amphitr.:  Nay,  rather  think  upon  thy  worthy  deeds,  1265 

And  grant  thyself  remission  oi  one  sin. 
Hercules:    Shall  he  give  absolution  to  himself, 

Who  granted  none  to  other  men  ?    My  deeds 

Which  have  deserved  the  praise  of  men,  I  did 

Because  another  hade.    This  is  my  own. 

Then  help  me,  father,  whether  piety 

Or  my  sad  fortune  move  thee  to  my  aid,  1270 

Or  the  glory  of  my  manhood,  now  profaned. 

Give  me  my  arms  again,  that  my  right  hand 

May  vanquish  fate. 
Theseus:  Thy  father's  prayers,  indeed, 

Are  strong  enough;  but  by  my  pleadings,  too, 

Be  moved.     Rise  up,  and  meet  adversity 

With  thine  accustomed  force.     Thy  strength  of  mind  1275 

Recall,  which  no  misfortune  ever  yet 

Has  daunted.     Now  must  thou  with  all  thy  might 

Contend,  and  curb  the  wrath  of  Hercules. 
Hercules:    If  yet  I  live,  I  have  committed  wrong; 

But  if  I  die,  then  have  I  suffered  it. 

I  haste  to  purge  the  earth  of  such  as  I. 

Now  long  enough  has  there  been  hovering 

Before  my  eyes  that  monstrous  shape  of  sin,  1280 

So  impious,  savage,  merciless,  and  wild. 

Then  come,  my  hand,  attempt  this  mighty  task, 

Far  greater  than  the  last.     Dost  hesitate 

Through  cowardice  ?     Or  art  thou  brave  alone 

'Gainst  boys  and  trembling  mothers? 

Give  my  arms, 

Or  else  I  shall  from  Thracian  Pindus  strip  1285 

The  woods,  the  groves  of  Bacchus,  and  shall  burn 

Cithaeron's  ridgy  heights  along  with  me. 

The  homes  of  Thebes  together  with  their  lords, 

The  temples  with  their  gods,  will  I  o'erthrow, 

And  'neath  a  ruined  city  will  I  lie.  1290 

And  if  this  weight  of  walls  should  prove  too  light 
:  For  these  strong  shoulders,  and  the  seven  gates 

Be  not  enough  to  crush  me  to  the  earth, 

The  mighty  mass  of  earth  which  separates 


Hercules    Furens  163 

The  upper  from  the  nether  skies  I'll  take, 

And  hurl  its  crushing  weight  upon  my  head. 
Amphitr.:  Lo,  I  return  thine  arms.  1295 

Hercules:  Now  are  thy  words 

More  worthy  of  the  sire  of  Hercules. 

See,  by  this  arrow  pierced,  my  child  was  slain. 
.  1  mphilr.:  'Tis  true,  but  Juno  Shot  It  by  thy  hand!    7~ 
Hercules:    Then  I  myself  shall  use  it  now.. — - —    — -.^^ 
Amphitryon:  Behold,  A 

How  throbs  his  heart  within  his  anxiousjjrcaetr 
Hercules:    The  shaft  is  ready.  1300 

Amphitryon:  Ah,  now  wilt  thou  sin, 

Of  thine  own  will  and  with  full  consciousness. 

Have  then  thy  will;  we  make  no  further  prayer. 

For  now  my  grief  has  gained  a  safe  retreat. 

Thou  only  canst  preserve  my  son  to  me; 

Thou  canst  not  take  him  from  me.     For  my  fear 

I've  sounded  to  the  depths  and  feel  no  more. 

Thou  canst  no  longer  give  me  any  pain,  1305 

Though  happy  thou  canst  make  me  even  yet. 

Decide  then  as  thou  wilt  decide:  but  know 

That  here  thy  cause  and  reputation  stand 

In  doubtful  balance.     Either  thou  dost  live, 

Or  thou  dost  kill  thy  sire.     This  fleeting  soul, 

Now  worn  with  age  and  shattered  by  its  grief, 

Is  trembling  on  my  lips  in  act  to  go.  13 10 

Art  thou  so  slow  to  grant  thy  father  life? 

I  can  no  longer  brook  delay,  nor  wait 

To  thrust  the  fatal  sword  into  my  breast. 

And  this  shall  be  a  sane  Alcides'  crime. 
Hercules:    Now  stay,  my  father,  stay;  withhold  thy  hand. 

Yield  thee,  my  manhood;  do  a  father's  will.  13 15 

\Add  this  task  also  to  thy  former  toils — 

And  live!     Lift  up  my  father's  fainting  form, 

O  Theseus,  friend;  for  these  my  guilty  hands 

That  pious  duty  shun. 
Amphitryon:  But  I  with  joy 

Will  clasp  this  hand,  with  its  support  I'll  walk,  1320 

And  to  my  aching  heart  I'll  clasp  it  close, 


16  i 


T  H  l      T  RAO]    DIES    OF     S  K N  EC  A 


And  banish  all  my  woes. 
Hercules:  ^  Where  shall  1  flee  ? 

Where  hide  myself?    What  land  shall  bury  me 

From  human  sight  ?     What  Tan  a 'is  or  Nile, 

What  Tigris,  with  the  waves  of  Persia  mad, 

What  warlike  Rhine,  or  TagUS,  flowing  full  1325 

And  turgid  with  Iberia's  golden  sands, 
iCan  ever  cleanse  this  right  hand  of  its  stains? 

Though  ehill  Maeotis  pour  its  icy  floods 

Upon  me;  though  the  boundless  sea  should  pour 

Its  waters  o'er  my  hands;  still  would  they  be 

Deep  dyed  with  crime.     Where  wilt  thou  take  thyself, 

Thou  murderer?     Wilt  flee  to  east,  or  west  ?  1330 

Known  everywhere,  I  have  no  place  of  flight. 

The  whole  world  shrinks  from  sight  of  me;  the  stars 

Avert  their  courses  from  me,  and  the  sun 

Saw  even  Cerberus  with  milder  face. 

O  Theseus,  faithful  friend,  seek  out  a  place,  1335 

Far  off  from  here,  where  I  may  hide  myself. 

Since  thou  a  lenient  judge  of  others'  sins 

Hast  ever  been,  grant  mercy  now  to  me. 

Restore  me  to  the  infernal  shades,  I  beg, 

And  load  me  with  the  chains  thou  once  didst  wear.  1340 

That  place  will  hide  me — but  it  knows  me  too ! 
Theseus:     My  land  awaits  thy  coming;  there  will1  Mars 

Wash  clean  thy  hands,  and  give  thee  back  thy  arms. 

That  land,  O  Hercules,  now  calls  to  thee, 

Which  even  gods  from  sin  is  wont  to  free. 

'  Reading,  resliluel. 


HIPPOLYTUS  or  PHAEDRA 


HIPPOLYTUS  or  PHAEDRA 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

Hippolytus  Son  of  Theseus  and  Antiope,  an  Amazon. 

Phaedra  .    .  Wife  of  Theseus  and  stepmother  of  Hippolytus. 

Theseus  .    .  King  of  Athens. 

Nurse  ...  Of  Phaedra. 

Messenger. 

Slaves  and  attendants. 

Chorus     .    .  Of  Athenian  citizens. 

The  scene  is  laid  throughout  in  the  court  in  front  of  the  royal  palace 
at  Athens;   and  the  action  is  confined  to  the  space  of  one  day. 


Theseus  had  wed  Antiope,  the  Amazon,  and  of  their  union  had  been 
born  Hippolytus.  This  youth  grew  up  to  love  the  chase,  austere  and  beau- 
tiful, shunning  the  haunts  of  men,  and  scorning  the  love  of  women.  Theseus 
had  meanwhile  slain  Antiope,  and  married  Phaedra,  Cretan  Minos'  child. 

And  now,  for  four  years  past,  the  king  has  not  been  seen  upon  the  earth, 
for,  following  the  mad  adventure  of  his  bosom  friend,  Pirithoiis,  he  has 
descended  into  Tartara,  and  thence,  men  think,  he  never  will  return. 

Deserted  by  her  lord,  the  hapless  Phaedra  has  conceived  a  hopeless  pas- 
sion for  Hippolytus;  for  Venus,  mindful  of  that  ancient  shame,  which 
Phaedra's  ancestor,  Apollo,  had  exposed,  has  sent  this  madness  on  her,  even 
as  Pasiphae,  her  mother,  had  been  cursed  with  a  most  mad  and  fatal  malady. 


ACT  I 

Ilippolytus  [in  hunting  costume,  assigning  duties  and  places  to  his  ser- 
vants and  companions  of  the  hunt]: 

Up  comrades,  and  the  shadowy  groves 

With  nets  encircle;  swiftly  range 

The  heights  of  our  Cecropian  hills; 

Scour  well  those  coverts  on  the  slopes 

Of  Parnes,  or  in  Thria's  vale  5 

Whose  chattering  streamlet  roars  along 

In  rapid  course;  go  climb  the  hills 

Whose  peaks  are  ever  white  with  snows 
S  Of  Scythia.     Let  others  go 

Where  woods  with  lofty  alders  stand  10 

In  dense  array;  where  pastures  lie 
.Whose  springing  grass  is  waked  to  life 
^By  Zephyr's  breath,  dew  laden.     Go, 

Where  calm  Ilissus  flows  along 

The  level  fields,  a  sluggish  stream,  15 

Whose  winding  course  the  barren  sands 

With  niggard  water  laps.     Go  ye 

Along  the  leftward-leading  way, 

Where  Marathon  her  forest  glades 

Reveals,  where  nightly  with  their  young 

The  suckling  mothers  feed.     Do  you,  20 

f  Where,  softened  by  the  warming  winds 
(From  southern  lands,  Acharnae  melts 

His  snows,  repair;  let  others  seek 

Hymettus'  rocky  slopes,  far  famed 

For  honey;  others  still  the  glades 

Of  small  Aphidnae.     All  too  long 

That  region  has  unharried  lain  25 

Where  Sunium  with  its  jutting  shore 

Thrusts  out  the  curving  sea. 

If  any  feels  the  forest's  lure, 

I  Iim  Phlye  calls,  where  dwells  the  boar 

Now  scarred  and  known  by  many  a  wound, 
169 


170  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


The  fanners'  fear.  30 

Now  free  tin-  dogB  from  attaining  leash, 
That  hunt  in  silence;   but  the  hounds 

Of  kern  Molossian  breed  hold  fast 

In  check;  let  the  savage  Cretans  strain 

With  chaffing  necks  upon  their  chains; 

The  Spartans  hold  in  strongest  curb,  35 

With  caution  bind,  for  bold  their  breed, 

And  eager  for  the  prey. 

The  time  will  come  when  their  baying  loud 

Through  the  hollow  rocks  shall  echo;  now 

Let  them  snuff  the  air  with  nostrils  keen, 

And  with  lowered  muzzles  seek  the  tracks  40 

Of  beasts,  while  yet  the  dawn  is  dim, 

And  while  the  dewy  earth  still  holds 

The  marks  of  treading  feet.     Let  some 

On  burdened  necks  the  wide  nets  bear, 

And  others  haste  to  bring  the  snares  .  45 

Of  smooth-wrought  cords.     Let  feathers,  dyed 

With  crimson,  hedge  the  timid  deer 

With  terrors  vain.     Do  thou  use  darts 

Of  Crete,  and  thou  the  heavy  spear 

By  both  hands  wielded.     Thou  shalt  sit  50 

In  hiding  and  with  clamors  loud 

Drive  out  the  frightened  beasts;  and  thou, 

When  all  is  done,  with  curving  blade 

Shalt  break  the  victims. 

And  thou,  be  with  thy  worshiper, 

O  goddess  of  the  chase,  whose  rule  55 

Extends  o'er  all  the  secret  haunts 

Of  earth;  whose  darts  unerring  pierce 

The  flying  prey;  whose  thirst  is  quenched 

By  cool  Araxes'  distant  stream, 

Or  for  whose  sport  the  Ister  spreads 

His  frozen  waves.     Thy  hand  pursues  60 . 

Gaetulian  lions,  Cretan  deer; 

And  now  the  swiftly  fleeing  does 

With  lighter  stroke  are  pierced.     To  thee 

The  spotted  tigers  yield,  to  thee 


HlPPOLYTUS      OR^PhAEDRA  171 

The  bisons,  shaggy  backed,  and  the  wild, 
Broad -horne'd  oxen  of  the  woods.  65 

Whatever  feeds  upon  the  plains 
In  desert  pasture  lands;  whate'er 
The  needy  Garamantian  knows, 
Whate'er  the  Arab  rich  in  woods, 
Or  wild  Sarmatian,  wandering  free 

Across  the  lonely  wilderness;  70 

Whate'er  the  rugged  Pyrenees 
Or  deep  Hyrcanian  glades  conceal: 
All  fear  thy  bow,  thou  huntress  queen. 
If  any  worshiper  of  thine 
Takes  to  the  hunt  thy  favoring  will, 

His  nets  hold  fast  the  struggling  prey;  75 

No  birds  break  from  his  snares;  for  him 
The  groaning  wagons  homeward  come 
With  booty  rich;  the  hounds  come  back 
With  muzzles  deeply  dyed  in  blood, 
And  all  the  rustic  throng  returns 

In  shouting  triumph  home.  80 

But  lo,  the  goddess  hears.     The  hounds 
Are  baying  loud  and  clear  to  announce 
The  start.     I'm  summoned  to  the  woods. 
Here,  here  I'll  hasten  where  the  road 
Most  quickly  leads  away. 
[Exit.] 


Phaedra:     O  mighty  Crete,  thou  mistress  of  the  deep,  85 

Whose  ships  uncounted  sail  through  every  sea 
Wherever  Nereus  shows  their  beaks  the  way, 
E'en  to  Assyria's  shores;  why  dost  thou  here 
Compel  me  thus  in  woe  and  tears  to  live, 
— -A  hostage  given  to  the  hated  foe,  90 

And  to  a  foeman  wed  ?     Behold  my  lord, 
Deserting  me,  his  bride,  is  far  away, 
And  keeps  his  wonted  faith.     Through  shadows  deep 
Of  that  dark  pool  which  may  not  be  recrossed, 
This  doughty  follower  of  a  madcap  prince 
Has  gone,  that  from  the  very  throne  of  Dis  95 


173  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

He  might  seduce  and  bear  away  his  queen. 

With  SUCh  mad  fully  linked  he  went  away, 

t  Restrained  by  neither  fear  nor  shame.    And  so, 

[In  deepest  Acheron,  illicit  love 
This  father  of  EfippolytUS  desires. 

Hut  other,  greater  griefs  than  this  oppress 

Gfy  sorrowing  soul;  no  quiet  rest  by  night,  100 

1  No  slumber  deep  comes  to  dissolve  my  cares; 

But  woe  is  fed  and  grows  within  my  heart, 

And  there  burns  hot  as  Aetna's  raging  fires. 

My  loom  stands  empty  and  my  listless  hands 

Drop  idly  from  their  tasks.     No  more  I  care  105 

To  make  my  votive  offerings  to  the  gods, 

Nor,  with  the  Athenian  women  mingled,  dance 

Around  their  sacred  shrines,  and  conscious  brands 

Toss  high  in  secret  rites.     I  have  no  heart 

With  chaste  and  pious  prayers  to  worship  her, 

That  mighty  goddess  who  was  set  to  guard 

This  Attic  land.     My  only  joy  is  found  no 

"*In  swift  pursuit  of  fleeing  beasts  of  prey, 

My  soft  hands  brandishing  the  heavy  spear. 

But  what  will  come  of  this  ?     Why  do  I  love 

The  forest  glades  so  madly  ?    Ah,  I  feel 
—The  fatal  malady  my  mother  felt; 

For  both  have  learned  within  the  forest  depths 

To  sin  in  love.     O  mother,  now  my  heart  115 

Doth  ache  for  thee;  for,  swept  away  by  sin 

Unspeakable,  thou  boldly  didst  conceive 

A  shameful  passion  for  the  savage  lord 

Of  the  wild  herd.     Untamable  was  he, 

That  stern  and  lustful  leader  of  the  flock ; 

And  yet  he  loved.     But  in  my  passion's  need  120 

What  god  can  help  me  ?     Where  the  Daedalus 

Who  can  my  love  relieve  ?     Should  he  return 

Who  shut  our  monster  in  the  labyrinth, 

He  could  not  by  his  well-known  Attic  skill 

Avail  to  save  me  from  this  dire  mischance. 
—.  For  Venus,  filled  with  deadly  hate  of  us, 
j  The  stock  of  Phoebus,  seeks  through  me  to  avenge  125 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  173 

The  chains  which  fettered  her  in  shame  to  Mars, 
And  all  our  house  with  direful  love  she  fills. 
No  princess  of  our  race  has  ever  loved 
In  modest  wise,  but  always  monstrously. 
Xnrse:        O  wife  of  Theseus,  glorious  child  of  Jove, 

Drive  from  thy  modest  breast  these  shameful  thoughts.         130 

Put  out  these  flames;  and  give  thyself  no  hope 

Of  such  dire  love  as  this.     Whoe'er  at  first 

Has  set  himself  to  fight  and  conquer  love, 

A  safe  and  easy  victory  finds.     But  he, 

Who  dallies  with  its  evil  sweets,  too  late 

Refuses  to  endure  the  galling  yoke  135 

Which  he  himself  has  placed  upon  his  neck. 

I  know  full  well  how  scornful  of  the  truth, 

How  harsh  the  swollen  pride  of  princesses, 

How  it  refuses  to  be  bent  aright. 

Whatever  outcome  chance  allots,  I'll  bear; 

For  dawning  freedom  makes  the  aged  brave. 

To  will  to  live  uprightly  nor  to  fall  140 

From  virtue's  ways  is  best;  but  next  to  this 

Is  sense^pf  shame,  the  knowing  when  to  stop 

A  sinful  course.     What,  pray,  will  be  the  end 

For  thee,  poor  mistress  ?     Why  dost  heap  thy  house 

With  further  infamy?     Wquldst  thou  outsin 

Thy  mother?     For  thy  impious  love  is  worse 

Than  her  unnatural  and  monstrous  love. 

The  first  you  would  impute  to  character, 

The  last  to  fate.     If,  since  thy  husband  sees  145 

No  more  the  realms  of  earth,  thou  dost  believe 

That  this  thy  sin  is  safe  and  free  from  fear, 

Thou  art  in  error.     Grant  that  he  is  held 

Imprisoned  fast  in  Lethe's  lowest  depths, 

And  must  forever  feel  the  bonds  of  Styx : 

Would  he,  thy  sire,  who  by  his  spreading  sway 

Encroaches  on  the  sea,  who  gives  their  laws  150 

Unto  a  hundred  peoples,  e'er  permit 

So  great  a  crime  as  this  to  lie  unknown  ? 

Keen  is  a  parent's  watchful  care.     And  yet, 

Suppose  that  by  our  craft  and  guile  we  hide 


i;4  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


This  crime  from  him:  what  of  thy  mother's  sire, 
Who  Hoods  the  earth  with  his  illuming  rays?  155 

And  what  of  him  who  makes  the  earth  to  quake, 
The  l>olts  of  Aetna  flashing  in  his  band, 
The  father  of  the  gods?  Ami  dosl  thou  think 
That  it  can  lie  that  thou  couldst  hide  thy  sin 
From  these  thy  grandsires,  all-beholding  ones  ? 
Hut  even  should  the  favor  of  the  gods, 

Complaisant,  hide  thy  shame  from  all  the  world;  160 

Though  to  thy  lust  alone  should  fall  that  grace 
Denied  to  other  crimes:  still  must  thou  fear. 
Whal  of  that  iver-present  punishment, 
The  terror  of  the  soul  that  knows  its  guilt, 
'  Is  stained  with  crime  and  fearful  of  itself? 
Some  women  have  with  safety  sinned,  but  none 
With  peace  of  soul.     Then  quench  these  flames,  I  pray,       165 
Of  impious  love,  and  shun  this  monstrous  crime 
Which  no  barbaric  land  has  ever  done, 
No  Getan  wandering  on  his  lonely  plains, 
No  savage  Taurian,  no  Scythian. 
Expel  from  thy  chaste  soul  this  hideous  thing, 
And,  mindful  of  thy  mother's  sin,  avoid  170 

Such  monstrous  unions.     Wouldst  in  marriage  give 
Thyself  to  son  and  father  ?     Wouldst  thou  take 
In  thine  incestuous  womb  a  progeny 
So  basely  mixed  ?     Then  go  the  length  of  sin: 
O'erthrow  all  nature  with  thy  shameful  fires. 
Why  should  the  monsters  cease  ?     Why  empty  stands 
Thy  brother's  labyrinth  ?     Shall  all  the  world  175 

Be  shocked  with  prodigies,  shall  nature's  laws 
Be  scorned,  whene'er  a  Cretan  woman  loves  ? 
Phaedra:     I  know  that  what  thou  say'st  is  true,  dear  nurse; 
But  raging  passion  forces  me  to  take 
The  path  of  sin.     Full  consciously  my  soul 
Goes  headlong  on  its  downward  way,  ofttimes 
With  backward  glance,  sane  counsel  seeking  still, 
Without  avail.     So,  when  the  mariner  180 

Would  sail  his  ship  against  the  boisterous  waves, 
His  toil  is  all  in  vain,  and,  vanquished  quite, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra 


x75 


The  ship  drifts  onward  with  the  hurrying  tide. 
I  JFor  what  can  reason  do  when  passion  rules, 

"'When  love,  almighty,  domiuates  the  soul  ? 
The  winged  god  is  lord  through  all  the  earth, 
And  with  his  flames  unquenchable  the  heart 
Of  Jove  himself  is  burned.     The  god  of  war 
Has  felt  his  fire;  and  Vulcan  too,  that  god 
Who  forges  Jove's  three-forked  thunderbolts; 
Yea,  he,  who  in  the  hold  of  Aetna  huge 
Is  lord  of  ever-blazing  furnaces, 

i  By  this  small  spark  is  burned.     Apollo,  too, 

"iWho  sends  his  arrows  with  unerring  aim, 
Was  pierced  by  Cupid's  still  more  certain  darts. 
For  equally  in  heaven  and  earth  the  god 
Is  powerful. 
Nurse:  The  god!  'Tis  vicious  lust 

That  hath  his  godhead  framed;  and,  that  its  ends 
More  fully  may  be  gained,  it  has  assigned 
To  its  unbridled  love  the  specious  name, 
Divinity!  'Tis  Venus'  son,  in  sooth, 
Sent  wandering  through  all  the  earth !     He  flies 
Through  empty  air  and  in  his  boyish  hands 
His  deadly  weapon  bears!     Though  least  of  gods, 
He  holds  the  widest  sway!     Such  vain  conceits 
The  love-mad  soul  adopts,  love's  goddess  feigns, 
And  Cupid's  bow.     Whoe'er  too  much  enjoys 
The  smiles  of  fortune  and  in  ease  is  lapped, 
Is  ever  seeking  unaccustomed  joys. 
Then  that  dire  comrade  of  a  high  estate, 
Inordinate  desire,  comes  in.     The  feast  * 
Of  yesterday  no  longer  pleases;  now 
A  home  of  sane  and  simple  living,  food' 
Of  humble  sort,  are  odious.     Oh,  win- 
Does  this  destructive  pest  so  rarely  come 
To  lowly  homes,  but  chooses  rather  homes 

/Of  luxury?     And  why  does  modest  love 
Beneath  the  humble  roof  abide,  and  bless 
With  wholesome  intercourse  the  common  throng? 

■  Reading,  cibus. 


I85 


190 


io5 


200 


205 


210 


i;<> 


The    Trai.i  mi  s    of    Seneca 


Nurse: 


Phaedra: 
Xitrse: 


Why  do  the  poor  restrain  their  appetites, 
Whereas  the  rich,  on  empire  propped,  desire 

M.ue  than  is  right.      Who  wields  t<><>  much  of  power  215 

I  >i  sires  to  gain  what  is  beyond  his  power. 
What  is  befitting  to  thy  high  estate 

Thou  knowest  well.    Then  fitting  reverence  show 
To  thy  returning  husband's  sovereignty. 

Phaedra:     The  sovereignty  of  love  is  over  me, 

The  highest  rule  of  all.     My  lord's  return, 

I  fear  it  not;   for  never  more  has  he, 

Who  once  within  the  silent  depths  of  night  220 

Has  plunged,  beheld  again  the  light  of  day. 

Trust  not  the  power  of  Dis;  for  though  his  realm 

He  closely  bar,  and  though  the  Stygian  dog 

Keep  watch  and  ward  upon  the  baleful  doors, 

Theseus  can  always  walk  forbidden  ways. 

Perchance  he'll  give  indulgence   to  my  love.  225 

But  he  was  harsh  e'en  to  a  modest  wife; 

His  heavy  hand  Anliope  has  known. 

But  grant  that  thou  canst  bend  thy  angry  lord: 

Canst  bend  as  well  the  stubborn  soul  of  him, 

Hippolytus,  who  hates  the  very  name  230 

Of  womankind  ?     Inexorable  his  resolve 

To  spend  his  life  unwedded.     He  so  shuns 

The  sacred  rites  of  marriage,  thou  wouldst  know 
iThat  he  of  Amazonian  stock  was  born. 

Though  on  the  tops  of  snowy  hills  he  hide, 

Or  swiftly  course  along  the  ragged  cliffs, 

Through  forests  deep,  o'er  mountains,  'tis  my  will  235 

To  follow  him. 

And  will  he  turn  again, 

And  yield  himself  unto  thy  sweet  caress  ? 

Or  will  he  lay  aside  his  modesty 

At  thy  vile  love's  behest  ?     Will  he  give  o'er 

His  hate  of  womankind  for  thee  alone, 

On  whose  account,  perchance,  he  hates  them  all  ? 
Phaedra:     Can  he  not  be  by  any  prayers  o'ercome  ? 
Xitrse:        He's  wild.  240 

Phaedra:  Yes,  but  the  beasts  are  tamed  by  love. 


Phaedra: 


Xitrse: 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra 


177 


Nurse: 

Phaedra 

Xttrse: 

Phaedra 

Xitrse: 

Phaedra, 

X  arse: 

Phaedra 

Xurse: 

Phaedra 

Xurse: 


Phaedra 


Nurse: 


Phaedra 


Xurse: 


Phaedra. 


Nurse: 


He'll  flee. 

Through  Ocean's  self  I'll  follow  him. 

Thy  sire  remember. 

And  my  mother  too. 

Women  he  hates. 

Then  I'll  no  rival  fear. 

Thy  husband  comes. 

With  him  Pirithoiis! 

Thy  sire!  245 

To  Ariadne  he  was  kind. 

O  child,  by  these  white  locks  of  age,  I  pray, 

This  care-filled  heart,  these  breasts  that  suckled  thee, 

Put  off  this  rage;   to  thine  own  rescue  come. 

The  greater  part  of  life  is  will  to  live. 

Shame  has  not  wholly  fled  my  noble  soul.  250 

*I  yield:  let  love,  which  will  not  be  controlled, 

Be  conquered.     Nor  shalt  thou,  fair  fame,  be  stained. 

This  way  alone  is  left,  sole  hope  of  woe: 
s Theseus  I'll  follow,  and  by  death  shun  sin. 

Oh,  check,  my  child,  this  wild,  impetuous  thought;  255 

Be  calm.     For  now  I  think  thee  worthy  life, 

Because  thou  hast  condemned  thyself  to  death. 
"I  I  am  resolved  to  die,  and  only  seek 
1  The  mode  of  death.     Shall  I  my  spirit  free 

By  twisted  rope,  or  fall  upon  the  sword, 

Or  shall  I  leap  from  yonder  citadel  ?  260 

Shall  my  old  age  permit  thee  thus  to  die 

Self-slain  ?     Thy  deadly,  raging  purpose  stay. 

No  one  may  easily  come  back  to  life. 
CNq  argument  can  stay  the  will  of  one  265 

^Who  has  resolved  to  die,  and  ought  to  die. 

Quick,  let  me  arm  myself  in  honor's  cause. 

Sole  comfort  of  my  weary  age,  my  child, 

If  such  unruly  passion  sways  thy  heart, 
'  Away  with  reputation !     'Tis  a  thing 

Which  rarely  with  reality  agrees; 

It  smiles  upon  the  ill-deserving  man,  270 

And  from  the  good  withholds  his  meed  of  praise. 

Let  us  make  trial  of  that  stubtorn  soul. 


i;s 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Mine  In-  the  task  to  approach  the  savage  youth, 
And  bend  bis  will  relentless  to  our  own. 

Chorus:  Thou  goddess,  child  of  the  foaming  sea, 

Thou  mother  of  love,  how  fierce  are  the  flames,  275 

And  how  sharp  are  the  darts  of  thy  petulant  boy; 
I  low  deadly  of  aim  his  bow. 
1  >eep  to  the  heart  the  poison  sinks 

When  the  veins  are  imbued  with  his  hidden  flame;  280 

No  gaping  wound  upon  the  breast 
Does  his  arrow  leave;  but  far  within 
It  burns  with  consuming  fire. 
No  peace  or  rest  does  he  give;  world  wide 
Are  his  flying  weapons  sown  abroad: 

The  shores  that  see  the  rising  sun,  285 

And  the  land  that  lies  at  the  goal  of  the  west ; 
The  south  where  raging  Cancer  glows, 
And  the  land  of  the  cold  Arcadian  Bear 
With  its  ever-wandering  tribes — all  know 
,  And  have  felt  the  fires  of  love.  290 

I  The  hot  blood  of  youth  he  rouses  to  madness, 
The  smouldering  embers  of  age  he  rekindles, 
And  even  the  innocent  breasts  of  maids 
Are  stirred  by  passion  unknown. 
He  bids  the  immortals  desert  the  skies 
And  dwell  on  the  earth  in  forms  assumed.  295 

,>  For  love,  Apollo  kept  the  herds 
Of  Thessaly's  king,  and,  his  lyre  unused, 
He  called  to  his  bulls  on  the  gentle  pipe. 
How  oft  has  Jove  himself  put  on 
The  lower  forms  of  life,  who  rules 

The  sky  and  the  clouds.     Now  a  bird  he  seems,  300 

With  white  wings  hovering,  with  voice 
More  sweet  than  the  song  of  the  dying  swan; 
Now  wdth  lowering  front,  as  a  wanton  bull, 
He  offers  his  back  to  the  sport  of  maids; 
And  soon  through  his  brother's  waves  he  floats,  305 

With  his  hoofs  like  sturdy  oars,  and  his  breast 
"-;  Stoutly  opposing  the  waves,  in  fear 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  179 

)For  the  captured  maid  he  bears.     For  love, 

The  shining  goddess  of  the  night 

Her  dim  skies  left,  and  her  glittering  car  310 

To  her  brother  allotted  to  guide.     Untrained 

In  managing  the  dusky  steeds, 

Within  a  shorter  circuit  now 

He  learns  to  direct  his  course.     Meanwhile 

The  nights  no  more  their  accustomed  space 

Retained,  and  the  dawn  came  slowly  back,  315 

Since  'neath  a  heavier  burden  now 

The  axle  trembled.     Love  compelled 

Alcmena's  son  to  lay  aside 

His  quiver  and  the  threat'ning  spoil 

Of  that  great  lion's  skin  he  bore, 

And  have  his  fingers  set  with  gems, 

His  shaggy  locks  in  order  dressed.  320 

His  limbs  were  wrapped  in  cloth  of  gold, 

His  feet  with  yellow  sandals  bound; 

And  with  that  hand  which  bore  but  now 

The  mighty  club,  he  wound  the  thread 

Which  from  his  mistress'  spindle  fell. 

The  sight  all  Persia  saw,  and  they  325 

'vWho  dwell  in  Lydia's  fertile  realm — 

The  savage  lion's  skin  laid  by, 

And  on  those  shoulders,  once  the  prop 

For  heaven's  vast  dome,  a  gauzy  cloak 
-(Of  Tyrian  manufacture  spread. 

Accursed  is  love,  its  victims  know,  330 

And  all  too  strong.     In  every  land, 

In  the  all -encircling  briny  deep, 

In  the  airy  heavens  where  the  bright  stars  course, 

There  pitiless  love  holds  sway. 

The  sea-green  band  of  the  Nereids  335 

Have  felt  his  darts  in  their  deepest  waves, 

And  the  waters  of  ocean  cannot  quench 

Their  flames.     The  birds  know  the  passion  of  love, 

And  mighty  bulls,  with  its  fire  inflamed, 

Wage  furious  battle,  while  the  herd  340 

Look  on  in  wonder.     Even  stags, 


i  So 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Chorus: 


Nurse: 


\  Though  timorous  of  heart,  will  fight 

|  If  for  their  males  they  fear,  while  loud 
Resound  the  snortings  of  their  wrath. 
When  with  love  the  Btriped  tigers  burn, 
The  swarthy  Indian  cowers  in  fear.  345 

For  love  the  hoar  whets  his  deadly  tusks 
And  his  huge  mouth  is  white  with  foam. 
The  African  lions  toss  their  manes 
When  love  inflames  their  hearts,  and  the  woods 
Resound  with  their  savage  roars.  35° 

The  monsters  of  the  raging  deep, 
And  those  great  beasts,  the  elephants, 
Feel  the  sway  of  love;  since  nature's  power 
Claims  everything,  and  nothing  spares. 
Hate  perishes  when  love  commands, 

And  ancient  feuds  yield  to  his  touch.  355 

Why  need  I  more  his  sway  approve, 
When  even  stepdames  yield  to  love  ? 

ACT  II 

[Enter  Nurse  from  the  palace.] 
Speak,  nurse,  the  news  thou  bring'st.     How  fares  the  queen  ? 
Do  her  fierce  fires  of  love  know  any  end  ? 
I  have  no  hope  that  such  a  malady  360 

^  Can  be  relieved;  her  maddened  passion's  flames 
Will  endless  burn.     A  hidden,  silent  fire 
Consumes  her,  and  her  raging  love,  though  shut 
Within  her  heart,  is  by  her  face  betrayed. 
Her  eyes  dart  fire;  anon,  her  sunken  gaze 
Avoids  the  light  of  day.     Her  restless  soul  365 

Can  find  no  pleasure  long  in  anything. 
Her  aimless  love  allows  her  limbs  no  rest. 
Now,  as  with  dying,  tottering  steps,  she  goes, 
And  scarce  can  hold  her  nodding  head  erect; 
And  now  lies  down  to  sleep.     But,  sleepless  quite, 
She  spends  the  night  in  tears.     Now  does  she  bid 
Me  lift  her  up,  and  straight  to  lay  her  down;  370 

To  loose  her  locks,  and  bind  them  up  again. 
In  restless  mood  she  constantly  demands 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra 


181 


Fresh  robes.     She  has  no  care  for  food  or  health. 

With  failing  strength  she  walks,  with  aimless  feet.  375 

Her  old-time  strength  is  gone;  no  longer  shines 

The  ruddy  glow  of  health  upon  her  face. 

Care  feeds  upon  her  limbs;  her  trembling  steps 

Betray  her  weakness,  and  the  tender  grace 

Of  her  once  blooming  beauty  is  no  more, 
o 
j  Her  eyes,  which  once  with  Phoebus'  brilliance  shone, 

No  longer  gleam  with  their  ancestral  fires.  380 

Her  tears  flow  ever,  and  her  cheeks  are  wet 

With  constant  rain;  as  when,  on  Taurus'  top, 

The  snows  are  melted  by  a  warming  shower. 

But  look,  the  palace  doors  are  opening, 

And  she,  reclining  on  her  couch  of  gold,  385 

And  sick  of  soul,  refuses  one  by  one 

The  customary  garments  of  her  state. 
Phaedra:   ,Remove,  ye  slaves,  those  bright  and  gold-wrought  robes; 
vAway  with  Tyrian  purple,  and  the  webs 

Of  silk  whose  threads  the  far-off  eastern  tribes 

From  leaves  of  trees  collect.     Gird  high  my  robes;  390 

I'll  wear  no  necklace,  nor  shall  snowy  pearls, 

The  gift  of  Indian  seas,  weigh  down  my  ears. 

No  nard  from  far  Assyria  shall  scent 

My  locks;  thus  loosely  tossing  let  them  fall 

Around  my  neck  and  shoulders;  let  them  stream 

Upon  the  wind,  by  my  swift  running  stirred.  395 

Upon  my  left  I'll  wear  a  quiver  girt, 

And  in  my  right  hand  will  I  brandish  free 

A  hunting-spear  of  Thessaly;  for  thus 

The  mother  of  Hippolytus  was  clad. 

So  did  she  lead  her  hosts  from  the  frozen  shores 

Of  Pontus,  when  to  Attica  she  came,  400 

From  distant  Tamils  or  Maeotis'  banks, 

Her  comely  locks  down  Bowing  from  a  knot, 

Her  side  protected  by  a  crescent  shield. 

Like  her  would  I  betake  me  to  the  woods. 
Chorus:       Cease  thy  laments,  for  grief  will  not  avail 

The  wretched.     Rather  seek  to  appease  the  will  405 

Of  that  wild  virgin  goddess  of  the  woods. 


iSj  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Nurse  [to  Diana]:  0  queen  of  forests,  thou  who  dwcll'st  alone 
i  >n  mountain  tops,  and  thou  who  only  art 
\Within  their  desert  haunts  adored,  convert, 
We  pray,  to  better  issue  these  sad  fears. 

0  mighty  goddess  of  the  woods  and  groves, 

bright  star  of  heaven,  thou  glory  of  the  night,  410 

Whose  torch,  alternate  with  the  sun,  illumes 
The  sky,  thou  three-formed  I  let  ate; — Oh,  smile, 
We  pray,  on  these  our  hopes;  the  unbending  soul 
Of  stern  Hippolytus  subdue  for  us. 
Teach  him  to  love;  our  passion's  mutual  flame 
May  he  endure.     May  he  give  ready  ear 

To  our  request.     His  hard  and  stubborn  heart  415 

Do  thou  make  soft  to  us.     Enthral  his  mind. 
Though  stern  of  soul,  averse  to  love,  and  fierce, 
May  he  yet  yield  himself  to  Venus'  laws. 
Bend  all  thy  powers  to  this.     So  may  thy  face 
Be  ever  clear,  and  through  the  rifted  clouds 
Mayst  thou  sail  on  with  crescent  shining  bright; 
So,  when  thou  driv'st  thy  chariot  through  the  sky,  420 

May  no  Thessalian  mummeries  prevail 
To  draw  thee  from  thy  nightly  journey  down; 
And  may  no  shepherd  boast  himself  of  thee. 
Lo,  thou  art  here  in  answer  to  our  prayer; 
[Hippolytus  is  seen  approaching.] 

1  see  Hippolytus  himself,  alone, 
Approaching  to  perform  the  yearly'rites 

To  Dian  due.  425 

[To  herself.] 
Why  dost  thou  hesitate  ? 
Moth  time  and  place  are  given  by  fortune's  lot. 
CUse  all  thy  arts.     Why  do  I  quake  with  fear? 
It  is  no  easy  task  to  do  the  deed 
Enjoined  on  me.     Yet  she,  who  serves  a  queen, 
Must  banish  from  her  heart  all  thought  of  right; 
For  sense  of  shame  ill  serves  a  royal  will.  430 

[Enter  Hippolytus.] 
Hippolytus:  Why  dost  thou  hither  turn  thine  aged  feet, 
O  faithful  nurse  ?     Why  is  thy  face^so  sad, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  183 

Thy  brow  so  troubled  ?     Truly  is  my  sire 
In  safety,  Phaedra  safe,  and  their  two  sons. 
Xursc:        Thou  need'st  not  fear  for  them;  the  kingdom  stands  435 

In  prosperous  estate,  and  all  thy  house 
Rejoices  in  the  blessings  of  the  gods. 
But  Oh,  do  thou  with  greater  kindness  look 
l"p  >n  thy  fortune.     For  my  heart  is  vexed 
And  anxious  for  thy  sake;  for  thou  thyself 
With  grievous  sufferings  dost  bruise  thy  soul. 
If  fate  compels  it,  one  may  be  forgiven  440 

For  wretchedness;  but  if,  of  his  own  will, 
A  man  prefers  to  live  in  misery, 
Brings  tortures  on  himself,  then  he  deserves 
To  lose  those  gifts  he  knows  not  how  to  use. 
Be  mindful  of  thy  youth;  relax  thy  mind. 
Lift  high  the  blazing  torch  on  festal  nights; 
Let  Bacchus  free  thee  from  thy  weighty  cares;  445 

Enjoy  this  time  which  speeds  so  swiftly  by. 
Now  is  the  time  when  love  comes  easily, 
And  smiles  on  youth.     Come,  let  thy  soul  rejoice. 
Why  dost  thou  lie  upon  a  lonely  couch  ? 
Dissolve  in  pleasures  that  grim  mood  of  thine, 
And  snatch  the  passing  joys;1  let  loose  the  reins.  450 

Forbid  that  these,  the  best  days  of  thy  life, 
Should  vanish  unenjoyed.     Its  proper  hue 
Has  God  allotted  to  each  time  of  life, 
And  leads  from  step  to  step  the  age  of  man. 
So  joy  becomes  the  young,  a  face  severe 
The  aged.     Why  dost  thou  restrain  thyself, 
And  strangle  at  their  birth  the  joys  of  life  ? 
That  crop  rewards  the  farmer's  labor  most  455 

Which  in  the  young  and  tender  sprouting-time 
Runs  riot  in  the  fields.     With  lofty  top 
That  tree  will  overspread  the  neighboring  grove, 
Which  no  begrudging  hand  cuts  back  or  prunes. 
So  do  our  inborn  powers  a  richer  fruit 
Of  praise  and  glory  bear,  if  liberty, 
Unchecked  and  l>oun<!less,~feed  the'noble  soul.  460 

■  Reading,  luxus. 


I 


ivi  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Thou,  harsh,  uncouth,  and  ignoranl  of  life, 
Dost  spend  thy  youth  I<>  joy  and  love  unknown 
Think'st  thou  thai  this  is  man's  allotted  task, 
To  suffer  hardships,  curl)  the  rushing  steeds, 
And  fighl  like  savage  beasts  In  Moody  war?  465 

When  be  beheld  the  boundless  greed  of  death, 
The  mighty  father  of  the  world  ordained 
A  means  by  which  the  race  might  be  renewed. 
Supjxise  the  power  of  Venus  over  men 

Should  (case,  who  doth  supply  and  still  renew  470 

The  stream  of  life,  then  would  this  lovely  world 
Become  a  foul,  unsightly  thing  indeed: 
The  sea  would  bear  no  fish  within  its  waves, 
The  woods  no  beasts  of  prey,  the  air  no  birds; 
But  through  its  empty  space  the  winds  alone 
Would  rove.     How  various  the  forms  of  death  475 

\That  seize  and  feed  upon  our  mortal  race: 
JThe  wrecking  sea,  the  sword,  and  treachery! 
But  say  that  these  are  lacking:  still  we  fall 
Of  our  own  gravity  to  gloomy  Styx. 
Suppose  our  youth  should  choose  a  matelcss  life, 
And  live  in  childless  state:  then  all  this  world 
Of  teeming  life  which  thou  dost  see,  would  live 
This  generation  only,  and  would  fall  480 

In  ruins  on  itself.     Then  spend  thy  life 
As  nature  doth  direct;  frequent  the  town, 
And  live  in  friendly  union  with  thy  kind. 
Hippolytiis:  There  is  no  life  so  free,  so  innocent, 

Which  better  cherishes  the  ancient  rites, 
Than  that  which  spurns  the  crowded  ways  of  men 
And  seeks  the  silent  places  of  the  woods.  485 

His  soul  no  maddening  greed  of  gain  inflames 
Who  on  the  lofty  levels  of  the  hills 
His  blameless  pleasures  finds.     No  fickle  breath 
Of  passing  favor  frets  him  here,  no  sting 
Of  base  ingratitude,  no  poisonous  hate. 

,He  fears  no  kingdom's  laws;  nor,  in  the  quest  490 

Of  power,  does  he  pursue  the  phantom  shapes 
Of  fame  and  wealth.     From  hope  and  fear  alike 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  185 

Is  he  amoved.     No  black  and  biting  spite 

With  base,  malicious  tooth  preys  on  him  here. 

He  never  hears  of  those  base,  shameful  things 

That  spawn  amid  the  city's  teeming  throngs. 

It  is  not  his  with  guilty  heart  to  quake 

At  everj'  sound;  he  need  not  hide  his  thoughts  495 

With  guileful  words;  in  pride  of  sinful  wealth 
/    He  seeks  to  own  no  lordly  palace  propped 

Upon  a  thousand  pillars,  with  its  beams 
\     In  flaunting  arrogance  incased  with  gold. 
\    No  streams  of  blood  his  pious  altars  drench; 
\  No  hecatombs  of  snowy  bullocks  stand  500 

\  Foredoomed  to  death,  their  foreheads  sprinkled  o'er 

With  sacred  meal;  but  in  the  spacious  fields, 

Beneath  the  sky,  in  fearless  innocence, 

He  wanders  lord  of  all.     His  only  guile, 

To  set  the  cunning  snare  for  beasts  of  pray; 

And,  when  o'erspent  with  labors  of  the  chase, 

He  soothes  his  body  in  the  shining  stream 

Of  cool  Ilissus.     Now  swift  Alpheus'  banks  505 

He  skirts,  and  now  the  lofty  forest's  deep, 

Dense  places  treads,  where  Lerna,  clear  and  cool, 

Pours  forth  her  glimmering  streams. 

Here  twittering  birds  make  all  the  woods  resound, 

And  through  the  branches  of  the  ancient  beech 

The  leaves  are  all  a-flutter  in  the  breeze.  510 

How  sweet  upon  some  vagrant  river's  bank, 

J  >r  on  the  verdant  turf,  to  lie  at  length, 
vAnd  quaff  one's  fill  of  deep,  delicious  sleep, 

Whether  in  hurrying  floods  some  copious  stream 

Pours  down  its  waves,  or  through  the  vernal  flowers 

Some  murmuring  brook  sings  sweetly  as  it  flows. 

The  windfall  apples  of  the  wood  appease  515 

His  hunger,  while  the  ripening  berries  plucked 
^From  wayside  thickets  grant  an  easy  meal. 
^He  gladly  shuns  the  luxuries  of  kings. 

Let  mighty  lords  from  anxious  cups  of  gold 

Their  nectar  quaff;  for  him  how  sweet  to  catch 

With  naked  hand  the  water  of  the  spring!  520 


186  T  II  B     T  R  A  G  EDI  i:  s     o  t     Seneca 


I 


\ 


V; 


More  certain  slumber  soothes  him,  though  his  couch 
Be  hard,  if  free  bom  care  he  lay  him  down. 
With  guilty  soul  he  seeks  do  shameful  deeds 

In  nooks  remote  upon  some  hidden  couch, 
Nor  timorous  hides  in  labyrinthine  cell; 

He  courts  the  open  air  and  light  of  day, 

And  lives  before  the  conscious  eye  of  heaven.  52 

'Such  was  the  life,  I  think,  the  ancients  lived, 
Those  primal  men  who  mingled  with  the  gods. 
They  were  not  blinded  by  the  love  of  gold; 
No  sacred  stone  divided  off  the  fields 
And  lotted  each  his  own  in  judgment  there. 
Nor  yet  did  vessels  rashly  plow  the  seas;  530 

But  each  his  native  waters  knew  alone. 
^r  Then  cities  were  not  girt  with  massive  walls, 

i**  With  frequent  towers  set;    no  soldier  there 

To  savage  arms  his  hands  applied,  nor  burst 
The  close-barred  gates  with  huge  and  heavy  stones 
From  ponderous  engines  hurled.     As  yet  the  earth  535 

Endured  no  master's  rule,  nor  felt  the  sway 
Of  laboring  oxen  yoked  in  common  toil ; 
But  all  the  fields,  self-fruitful,  fed  mankind, 
Who  took  and  asked  no  more.     The  woods  gave  wealth, 
And  shady  grottoes  natural  homes  supplied. 
Unholy  greed  first  broke  these  peaceful  bonds,  540 

And  headlong  wrath,  and  lust  which  sets  aflame 
The  hearts  of  men.  Then  came  the  cruel  thirst 
For  empire;  and  the  weak  became  the  prey 

)Of  strong,  and  might  was  counted  right.     At  first 
Men  fought  with  naked  fists,  but  soon  they  turned  545 

Rough  clubs  and  stones  to  use  of  arms.     Not  yet 
Were  comel  spears  with  slender  points  of  iron, 
And  long,  sharp-pointed  swords,  and  crested  helms. 
Such  weapons  wrath  invented.     Warlike  Mars 
Produced  new  arts  of  strife,  and  forms  of  death  550 

In  countless  numbers  made.     Thence  streams  of  gore 
Stained  every  land,  and  reddened  every  sea. 
Then  crime,  o'erleaping  every  bound,  ran  wild; 
Invaded  every  home.     No  hideous  deed 


Hippolytus     or    Phaedra  187 

Was  left  undone:  but  brothers  by  the  hand  555 

Of  brothers  fell,  parents  by  children's  hands, 

Husbands  by  wives',  and  impious  mothers  killed 

Their  helpless  babes.     Stepmothers  need  no  words; 

The  very  beasts  are  kind  compared  with  them. 

Of  all  these  evils  woman  was  the  cause, 

The  leader  she.     She  with  her  wicked  arts 

Besets  the  minds  of  men;  and  all  for  her  560 

And  her  vile,  lustful  ways,  unnumbered  towns 

Lie  low  in  smoking  heaps;  whole  nations  rush 

To  arms;  and  kingdoms,  utterly  o'erthrown, 

Drag  down  their  ruined  peoples  in  their  fall. 

Though  I  should  name  no  other,  Aegeus'  wife 

Would  prove  all  womankind  a  cursed  race. 

Nurse:        Why  blame  all  women  for  the  crimes  of  few  ?  565 

Hippolytus:  I  hate  them  all.     I  dread  and  shun  and  curse 
Them  all.     Whether  from  reason,  instinct,  blindj 
And  causeless  madness,  this  I  know — I  hate. 
And  sooner  shall  you  fire  and  water  wed; 
Sooner  shall  dangerous  quicksands  friendly  turn 
And  give  safe  anchorage;  and  sooner  far  570 

Shall  Tethys  from  her  utmost  western  bounds 
Bring  forth  the  shining  day,  and  savage  wolves 
Smile  kindly  on  the  timid  does,  than  I, 
O'ercome,  feel  ought  but  hate  to  womankind. 

Nurse:        But  oft  doth  love  put  reins  on  stubborn  souls, 

And  all  their  hatred  to  affection  turns.  575 

,  Behold  thy  mother's  realm  of  warlike  dames; 
{ Yet  even  they  the  sway  of  passion  know. 
Of  this  thy  birth  itself  is  proof  enough. 

Hippolytus:  My  comfort  for  my  mother's  loss  is  this, 
That  now  I'm  free  to  hate  all  womankind. 

Nurse:        As  some  hard  crag,  on  every  side  unmoved,  580 

Resists  the  waves,  and  dashes  backward  far 
The  opposing  floods,  so  he  doth  spurn  my  words. 
But  hither  Phaedra  comes  with  hasty  step, 
Impatient  of  delay.     What  fate  is  hers  ? 
Or  to  what  action  doth  her  madness  tend  ? 

[Phaedra  enters  and  jails  fainting  to  the  earth.] 


i  ss  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Hut  see,  in  sudden  tainting  in  Bhe  falls,  585 

And  deathlike  pallor  overspreads  her  face. 
[Hippolytus  hastens  to  raise  her  up  in  his  arms.] 

Lift  uj)  thy  face,  Bpeak  out,  my  daughter,  see, 

Thine  own  Hippolytus  embraces  thee. 
Phaedra    [recovering  from  Iter  joint]:   Who  gives  me  back  to  griefs,  and 
floods  again 

My  soul  with  heavy  care  ?      I  [ow  well  for  me 

Had  I  sunk  down  to  death!  590 

Hippolytus:  But  why,  poor  soul, 

Dost  thou  lament  the  gift  of  life  restored  ? 
Phaedra  [aside]:  Come  dare,  attempt,  fulfil  thine  own  command. 

Speak  out,  and  fearlessly.     Who  asks  in  fear 

Suggests  a  prompt  refusal.     Even  now 

The  greater  part  of  my  offense  is  done. 

Too  late  my  present  modesty.     My  love,  595 

I  know,  is  base;  but  if  I  persevere, 

Perchance  the  marriage  torch  will  hide  my  sin. 
~)  Success  makes  certain  sins  respectable. 

Come  now,  begin. 

[To  Hippolytus]. 
Bend  lower  down  thine  ear, 

I  pray;  if  any  comrade  be  at  hand, 

Let  him  depart,  that  we  may  speak  alone.  600 

Hippolytus:  Behold,  the  place  is  free  from  witnesses. 
Phaedra:     My  lips  refuse  to  speak  my  waiting  words; 

A  mighty  force  compels  my  utterance, 

A  mightier  holds  it  back.     Ye  heavenly  powers, 

I  call  ye  all  to  witness,  what  I  wish —  605 

Hippolytus:  Thy  heart  desires  and  cannot  tell  its  wish  ? 
Phaedra:     Light  cares  speak  out,  the  weighty  have  no  words. 
Hippolytus:  Into  my  ears,  my  mother,  tell  thy  cares. 
Phaedra:     The  name  of  mother  is  too  proud  and  high; 

My  heart  dictates  some  humbler  name  than  that.  610 

Pray  call  me  sister — slave,  Hippolytus. 

Yes,  slave  I'd  be.     I'll  bear  all  servitude; 

And  shouldst  thou  bid  me  tread  the  driven  snows, 

To  walk  along  high  Pindus'  frozen  peaks, 

I'd  not  refuse;  no,  not  if  thou  shouldst  bid 


H  i  p  p  o  l  y't  us    or    Phaedra  189 


Me  go  through  fire,  and  serried  ranks  of  foes,  615 

I  would  not  hesitate  to  bare  my  breast 

Unto  the  naked  swords.     Take  thou  the  power 

Which  was  consigned  to  me.     Make  me  thy  slave. 

Rule  thou  the  state,  and  let  me  subject  be. 

It  is  no  woman's  task  to  guard  this  realm 

Of  many  towns.     Do  thou,  who  in  the  flower  620 

Of  youth  rejoicest,  rule  the  citizens 

With  strong  paternal  sway.     But  me  receive 

Into  thy  arms,  and  there  protect  thy  slave 

And  suppliant.     My  widowhood  relieve. 
Hippolylits:  May  God  on  high  this  omen  dark  avert ! 

My  father  will  in  safety  soon  return. 
Phaedra:     Not  so:  the  king  of  that  fast -holding  realm  625 

And  silent  Styx  has  never  opened  back 

The  doors  of  earth  to  those  who  once  have  left 

The  realms  above.     Think'st  thou  that  he  will  loose 

The  ravisher  of  his  couch  ?     Unless,  indeed, 

Grim  Pluto  has  at  last  grown  mild  to  love. 
Hippolylits:  The  righteous  gods  of  heaven  will  bring  him  back. 

But  while  the  gods  still  hold  our  prayers  in  doubt,  630 

My  brothers  will  I  make  my  pious  care, 

And  thee  as  well.     Think  not  thou  art  bereft; 

For  I  will  fill  for  thee  my  father's  place. 
Phaedra  [aside]:  Oh,  hope  of  lovers,  easily  beguiled! 

Deceitful  love!     Has  he1  not  said  enough  ?  635 

I'll  ply  him  now  with  prayers. 

[To  Hippolytus.] 

Oh,  pity  me. 

Hear  thou  the  prayers  which  I  must  only  think. 

I  long  to  utter  them,  but  am  ashamed. 
Hippolytus:  What  is  thy  trouble  then  ? 
Phaedra:  A  trouble  mine, 

Which  thou  wouldst  scarce  believe  could  vex  the  soul 

Of  any  stepdame. 
Hippolytus:  Speak  more  openly; 

In  doubtful  words  thy  meaning  thou  dost  wrap. 
{Phaedra:     My  maddened  heart  with  burning  love  is  scorched;    !  640 

■  Reading,  dixit. 


190  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

My  inmost  ni;m<>\v  is  devoured  with  love; 
/Anil  through  my  veins  and  vitals  steals  the  file, 

/  As  when  the  Barnes  through  roomy  holds  of  ships 

Run  darting.  645 

Hippolytus:  Surely  with  a  modest  love 

For  Theseus  thou  dost  burn. 
Phaedra:  Hippolytus, 

'Tis  thus  with  me:  I  love  those  former  looks 
-JL       Of  Theseus,  which  in  early  manhood  once 

He  wore,  when  first  a  beard  began  to  show 

Upon  his  modest  cheeks,  what  time  he  saw 

The  Cretan  monster's  hidden  lurking-place, 

And  by  a  thread  his  labyrinthine  way  650 

Retraced.     Oh,  what  a  glorious  sight  he  was! 

Soft  fillets  held  in  check  his  flowing  locks, 

And  modesty  upon  his  tender  face 

Glowed  blushing  red.     His  soft -appearing  arms 

But  half  concealed  his  muscles'  manly  strength. 

J  lis  face  was  like  thy  heavenly  Phoebe's  face, 
"j  Or  my  Apollo's,  or  'twas  like  thine  own.  655 

Like  thee,  like  thee  he  was  when  first  he  pleased 

His  enemy.     Just  so  he  proudly  held 

His  head  erect;  still  more  in  thee  shines  out 

That  beauty  unadorned;  in  thee  I  find 

Thy  father  all.     And  yet  thy  mother's  stern 

And  lofty  beauty  has  some  share  in  thee; 

Her  Scythian  firmness  tempers  Grecian  grace.  660 

If  with  thy  father  thou  hadst  sailed  to  Crete, 

My  sister  would  have  spun  the  thread  for  thee 

And  not  for  him.     O  sister,  wheresoe'er 

In  heaven's  starry  vault  thou  shinest,  thee, 

Oh,  thee  I  call  to  aid  my  hapless  cause, 

So  like  thine  own.     One  house  has  overthrown  665 

Two  sisters,  thee  the  father,  me  the  son. 
[To  Hippolytus.] 

Behold,  as  suppliant,  fallen  to  thy  knees, 

A  royal  princess  kneels.     Without  a  spot 

Of  sin,  unstained  and  innocent,  was  I; 

And  thou  alone  hast  wrought  the  change  in  me. 


1 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  191 

See,  at  thy  feet  I  knee]  and  pray,  resolved 
This  day  shall  end  my  misery  or  life.  670 

Oh,  pity  her  who  loves  thee — 
Hippolytus:  God  in  heaven, 

Great  ruler  of  all  gods,  dost  thou  this  sin 
So  calmly  hear,  so  calmly  see  ?     If  now 
Thou  hurlest  not  thy  bolt  with  deadly  hand, 
What  shameful  cause  will  ever  send  it  forth  ? 
Let  all  the  sky  in  shattered  ruins  fall, 

And  hide  the  light  of  day  in  murky  clouds.  675 

Let  stars  turn  back,  and  trace  again  their  course 
Athwart  their  proper  ways.     And  thou,  great  star 
Of  stars,  thou  radiant  Sun,  let  not  thine  eyes 
Behold  the  impious  shame  of  this  thy  stock; 
But  hide  thy  face,  and  to  the  darkness  flee 
Why  is  thy  hand,  O  king  of  gods  and  men,  680 

Inactive?     Why  by  forked  lightning's  brands 
Is  not  the  world  in  flames  ?     Direct  thy  bolts 
At  me;  pierce  me.     Let  that  fierce  darting  flame 
Consume  me  quite,  for  mine  is  all  the  blame. 
I  ought  to  die,  for  I  have  favor  found 
In  my  stepmother's  eyes. 

[To  Phaedra.] 

Did  I  seem  one 
.  To  thee  to  do  this  vile  and  shameful  thing? 
Did  I  seem  easy  fuel  to  thy  fire,  685 

I  only  ?     Has  my  virtuous  life  deserved 
Such  estimate?     Thou,  worse  than  all  thy  kind! 
Thou  woman,  who  hast  in  thy  heart  conceived 
A  deed  more  shameful  than  thy  mother's  sin, 
Whose  womb  gave  monstrous  birth;  thou  worse  than  she! 
She  stained  herself  with  vilest  lust,  and  long  690 

Concealed  the  deed.     But  all  in  vain:  at  last, 
Her  two-formed  child  revealed  his  mother's  crime, 
And  by  his  fierce  bull-visage  proved  her  guilt. 
Of  such  a  womb  and  mother  art  thou  lx>rn. 
Oh,  thrice  and  four  times  blessed  is  their  lot 
Whom  hate  and  treachery  give  o'er  and  doom  695 

To  death.     O  father,  how  I  envy  thee! 


192  T 11  r    Tragedies    01    Seneca 


' 


Thy  stepdame  was  the  Colchian;  hut  this, 
This  woman  is  a  greater  curse  than  she. 
Phaedra:     I  dearly  Bee  the  destiny  of  my  house: 

We  follow   ever  what  we  should  avoid. 
^1  But  I  have  given  over  self  -control; 

I'll  follow  thee  through  lire,  through  raging  sea,  700 

1  >'er  ragged  cliffs,  through  roaring  torrents  wild — 

Wherever  ihoii  dost  go,  in  mad  pursuit 
I  shall  he  borne.     Again,  ()  haughty  one, 
I  fall  in  suppliance  and  embrace  thy  knees. 
I lippolytiis:  Away  from  my  chaste  body  with  thy  touch 

Impure!     What  more?     She  falls  upon  my  breast !  705 

I'll  draw  my  sword  and  smite  as  she  deserves. 
See,  by  her  twisted  locks,  I  backward  bend 
Her  shameless  head.     No  blood  more  worthily 
Was  ever  spilled,  O  goddess  of  the  bow, 
Upon  thy  altars. 
Phaedra:  Now,  Hippolytus,  710 

Thou  dost  fulfil  the  fondest  wish  of  mine; 
jThou  sav'st  me  from  my  madness;  greater  far 
Than  all  my  hopes,  that  by  the  hands  I  love, 
By  thine  own  hands,  I  perish  ere  I  sin. 
Hippolytus:  Then  live,  be  gone!     Thou  shalt  gain  naught  from  me. 
And  this  my  sword,  defiled  by  thy  base  touch, 
No  more  shall  hang  upon  my  modest  side. 
[He  throws  his  sword  frotn  him.] 
What  Tanais  will  make  me  clean  again  ?  715 

Or  what  Maeotis  rushing  to  the  sea, 
I  With  its  barbaric  waves  ?     Not  Neptune's  self, 
•  With  all  his  ocean's  waters  could  avail 
/  To  cleanse  so  foul  a  stain.     O  woods!     O  beasts! 
[He  rushes  off  into  the  depths  of  the  forest.] 
Xurse  [in  soliloquy,  while  Phaedra  seems  to  have  fallen  in  a  fainting  fit]: 
Now  is  her  fault  discovered.     Soul  of  mine, 
Why  dost  thou  stand  in  dumb  amaze  ?    This  crime 
We  must  throw  back  upon  the  man  himself,  720 

And  charge  him  with  a  guilty  love,  ourselves. 
vSin  must  be  hid  by  sin.     The  safest  way 
Us  to  go  straight  forward  on  the  course  you  fear. 


f 


HlFPOLYTUS      OR      PHAEDRA  I93 

Who  is  to  know,  since  no  one  saw  the  deed, 
Whether  we  dared,  ourselves,  or  suffered  ill  ? 

[Raising  In  r  voice  in  a  loud  cry.] 
Help!     Help!  ye  dames  of  Athens!     Faithful  band  725 

Of  slaves,  bring  aid!     Behold  Hippolytus, 
With  vile  adulter}',  attacks  the  queen! 
He  has  her  in  his  power!     He  threatens  death ! 
At  point  of  sword  he  storms  her  chastity! 
There,  he  has  gone  in  haste,  and  left  behind 
His  sword  in  trembling,  panic-stricken  flight. 
This  proof  of  guilt  we'll  keep.     But  first  restore  730 

The  stricken  queen  to  life.     Let  all  remain 
Just  as  they  are,  her  locks  disheveled,  torn, 
To  show  how  great  a  wrong  she  has  endured. 
Back  to  the  city  bear  her  now.     Revive, 
My  mistress.     Why  dost  seek  to  harm  thyself 
And  shun  thy  comrades'  eyes.     For  be  thou  sure 
Not  circumstance  but  will  can  make  impure.  735 

[Exeunt.] 
Chorus:  He  fled  away  like  the  storm-blast  wild, 

More  swift  than  cloud-compelling  winds; 

And  swifter  than  the  comet's  torch, 

When,  driven  before  the  wind,  it  speeds 

With  long-drawn,  trailing  fires.  740 

Let  fame,  that  boasts  of  her  olden  times, 

Compare  with  thine  all  ancient  charms: 

Beyond  compare  does  thy  beauty  shine, 

Clear  and  bright  as  the  full-orbed  moon, 

When,  with  waxing  hours  in  splendor  joined,  745 

iNight  long  she  speeds  her  shining  car, 

And  her  ruddy  face  so  brightly  gleams, 

That  the  fires  of  the  lesser  stars  are  dimmed. 

He  is  fair  as  the  messenger  of  night, 

When  he  leads  the  evening  shadows  in, 

Himself  new  bathed  in  the  ocean's  foam;  750 

Or  when,  the  darkness  put  to  flight, 
_He  heralds  the  dawn — bright  Lucifer. 

And  thou  of  the  thyrsus,  Indian  Bacchus, 

With  the  flowing  locks  of  endless  youth, 


1 

6 


hi  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


With  thine  ivy  dad  Bpeai  the  tigers  driving,  755 

And  thy  turban  Bel  <>n  thy  horned  head: 
Not  tlms  will  thy  glorious  locks  outshine 
The  unadorned  hair  of  ffippolytus. 

And  admire  bo!  thy  beauty  over  much, 
For  fame  has  spread  the  story  far, 

How  Phaedra's  sister  preferred  to  thee,  760 

O  Bromius,  a  mortal  man. 
Ah  beauty,  a  doubtful  boon  art  thou, 
The  gift  of  a  fleeting  hour!     How  swift 
On  flying  feet  thou  glidest  away! 
So  flowery  meadows  of  the  spring 

The  summer's  burning  heat  devours,  765 

When  midday's  raging  sun  rides  high, 
}And  night's  brief  round  is  hurried  through. 
As  the  lilies  languish  on  their  stems, 
So  pleasing  tresses  fail  the  head; 

And  swiftly  is  the  radiance  dimmed  770 

Which  gleams  from  the  tender  cheeks  of  youth ! 
Each  day  hath  its  spoil  from  the  lovely  form; 
For  beauty  flees  and  soon  is  gone. 
Who  then  would  trust  a  gift  so  frail  ? 
Nay,  use  its  joys,  while  still  thou  mayst; 
For  silent  time  will  soon  destroy  thee,  775 

And  hours  to  baser  hours  steal  on. 
Why  seek  the  desert  wilds  ?     Thy  form 
Is  no  more  safe  in  pathless  ways. 
If  in  the  forest's  depths  thou  hide, 
When  Titan  brings  the  noonday  heat, 
The  saucy  Naids  will  surround  thee,  780 

Who  are  wont  in  their  clear  springs  to  snare 
The  lovely  youth;  and  'gainst  thy  sleep 
The  wanton  goddesses  of  groves, 
The  Dryads,  who  the  roving  Pans 
Drive  in  pursuit,  will  mischief  plot. 

Or  else  that  glowing  star,  whose  birth  785 

The  old  Arcadians  beheld, 
Will  see  thee  from  the  spangled  sky, 
And  straight  forget  to  drive  her  car. 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  195 

Of  late  she  blushed  a  fiery  red, 
And  yet  no  staining  cloud  obscured 

Her  shining  disk.     Hut  we,  in  fear 

For  her  troubled  face,  clashed  cymbals  loud,  790 

Deeming  her  harried  by  the  charms 

Of  Thcssaly.     But  for  thee  alone 

Was  all  her  toil;  thou  wast  the  cause 

Of  her  long  delay;  for,  seeing  thee, 

The  night's  fair  goddess  checked  her  course. 

If  only  winter's  blasts  would  beat  795 

Less  fiercely  on  that  face  of  thine; 

If  less  it  felt  the  sun's  hot  rays, 

More  bright  than  Parian  marble's  gleam 

Would  it  appear.     How  beautiful 

The  manly  sternness  in  thy  face, 

Thy  brow's  dark  frowning  majesty! 
'  Compare  with  Phoebus'  that  fair  neck.  800 

I  His  hair  o'er  his  shoulders  flowing  free, 

Unbound  by  fillet,  ornaments 

And  shelters  him.     A  shaggy  brow 

Becomes  thee  best;  thee,  shorter  locks, 

In  tossing  disarray.     'Tis  thine 

The  rough  and  warlike  gods  to  meet  805 

In  strife,  and  by  thy  mighty  strength 

To  overcome  them.     Even  now, 

The  muscles  of  a  Hercules 

Thy  youthful  arms  can  match.     Thy  breast 

Is  broader  than  the  breast  of  Mars. 

If  on  a  horny-footed  steed 

Thou'rt  pleased  to  mount,  not  Castor's  self  810 

More  easily  could  hold  in  check 

The  Spartan  Cyllarus. 

Take  thong  in  hand;  with  all  thy  strength 

Discharge  the  javelin:  not  so  far, 

Though  they  be  trained  to  hurl  the  dart, 

Will  Cretans  send  the  slender  reed.  815 

Or  if  it  please  thee  into  air, 

In  Parthian  style,  to  shoot  thy  darts, 

None  will  descend  without  its  bird, 


iq6       The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

Fixed  deep  within  the  throbbing  breast; 

From  out  the  verj  clouds  thy  prey 

Thou  wilt  regain. 

By  few  has  beauty  been  possessed  820 

(The  voice  of  history  proclaims) 

Without  sonic  loss  or  suffering. 

But  thee,  unharmed,  may  God  pass  by 

More  merciful,  and  may  thy  form, 

Now  famous  for  its  beauty,  show 

At  last  the  marks  of  ugly  age. 
What  crime  would  woman's  fury  leave  undared? 
She  plans  against  this  harmless  youth  some  fraud.  825 

Behold  her  scheme!     For  by  her  tumbled  hair, 
All  torn,  she  seeks  sure  credence  for  her  tale. 
She  wets  her  cheeks  with  tears;  and  every  art 
That  woman's  shrewdness  knows,  does  she  employ. 
[A  man  is  seen  approaching,  who  proves  to  be  Theseus.] 
But  who  is  that  who  comes  with  grace  of  kings 
Displayed  upon  his  face,  his  lofty  head  830 

Held  high  in  kingly  pride  ?     In  countenance, 
How  like  the  young  Pirithoiis  he  seems, 
Were  not  his  cheeks  too  deadly  pale  and  wan, 
And  if  his  hair  fell  not  in  locks  unkempt. 
Behold,  'tis  Theseus'  self  returned  to  earth. 

ACT  III 

Theseus:     At  last  have  I  escaped  from  endless  night,  835 

That  shadowy  realm  which  close  confines  the  dead. 
And  now  my  eyes  can  scarce  endure  the  light 
Which  I  have  long  desired.     Eleusin  now 
Has  four  times  reaped  her  ripened  grain,  the  gift 
Triptolemus  bestowed;  thrice  and  again 
Has  Libra  measured  equal  day  and  night, 
Since  dubious  battling  with  an  unknown  fate  840 

Has  held  me  in  the  toils  of  life  and  death. 
To  me,  though  dead  to  all  things  else,  one  part 
Of  life  remained,  the  consciousness  of  ill. 
Alcides  was  the  end.     When  he  came  down 
To  bring  the  dog  by  force   from  Tartarus, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra 


197 


He  brought  me  also  to  the  upper  world.  845 

But  ah,  my  wearied  frame  has  lost  the  strength 

It  had  of  old;  I  walk  with  faltering  steps. 

Alas!  how  great  a  task  it  was  to  reach 

The  world  of  light  from  lower  Phlegethon, 

To  flee  from  death  and  follow  Hercules! 

But  why  this  sound  of  wailing  in  my  ears  ?  850 

Let  someone  tell;  for  agonies  of  woe 

And  grief  and  lamentations  sad  I  meet 

Upon  the  very  threshold  of  my  home — 

A  fitting  welcome  to  a  guest  from  hell. 
Xnrsc:      iThe  queen  is  obstinately  bent  on  death, 

And  scorns  the  strong  remonstrance  of  our  tears.  855 

Theseus:     Why  should  she  die,  her  husband  safe  returned  ? 
Xurse:        That  very  cause  compels  her  speedy  death. 
Theseus:     Thy  words  are  dark  and  hide  some  weighty  truth. 

Speak  out  and  tell  what  grief  weighs  down  her  soul. 
Xurse:        She  tells  her  grief  to  none.     Some  secret  woe  860 

She  hides  within  her  heart,  and  is  resolved 

To  take  her  secret  with  her  to  the  grave. 

But  speed  thee  to  her;  there  is  need  of  haste. 
Theseus:      Unbar  the  close-shut  portals  of  my  house. 

I  The  doors  are  opened  and  Theseus  encounters  his  wife  just  within.] 
Theseus  [to  Phaedra]:  My  queen,  is't  thus  thou  dost  receive  thy  lord, 

And  welcome  back  thy  husband  long  desired  ?  865 

Nay,  put  away  the  sword  from  thy  right  band, 

And  give  me  heart  again.     Reveal  to  me 

The  cause  that  forces  thee  to  flee  from  life. 
Phaedra:     Alas,  great  Theseus,  by  thy  kingly  power, 

And  by  thy  children's  souls,  by  thy  return,  870 

And  by  my  ashes,  suffer  me  to  die. 
Theseus:      What  cause  compels  thy  death  ? 
Phaedra:  The  fruit  of  death 

Would  perish  if  I  let  its  cause  be  known. 
Theseus:      None  else  shall  hear  it  save  myself  alone. 
Phaedra:     A  chaste  wife  fears  her  husband  most  of  all. 
Theseus:      Speak  out;  I'll  hide  thy  secret" in  my  heart.  875 

Phaedra:      The  secret  thou  wouldst  have  another  guard, 

First  guard  thyself. 


T  ii  i       T  B  \  G  E  D  i  i   s     o  !•      S  i    \  r.  c  A 


Theseus: 

I  dra: 

Theseus: 

Phaedra: 

;eus: 

Phaedra: 

teus: 


Phaedra: 
Theseus: 


Phaedra: 


+ 


Theseus: 
Phaedra: 
Theseus: 

Phaedra: 


Theseus: 


Phaedra: 
Theseus: 


N  i  chance  of  death  thou'll  find. 
Di  atfa  cannol  fail  the  hearl  that's  bent  <>n  death. 
Confess  what  sin  must  be  atoned  by  death. 

My  lifr.  880 

Will  not  nay  tears  avail  with  thee? 
That  death  is  beat  which  one's  own  friends  lament. 
She  still  persists  in  silence.     By  the  lash 
And  chains  shall  her  old  nurse  be  forced  to  tell 
What  she  will  not  declare.     Put  her  in  chains. 
Xow  let  the  lash  lay  bare  her  hidden  thoughts. 
Hold,  stay  thy  hand,  for  I  myself  will  speak.  885 

Why  dost  thou  turn  thy  grieving  face  away, 
.And  hide  the  quickly  rising  shower  of  tears 
Behind  thy  robe? 

Thee,  thee  do  I  invoke, 

0  father  of  the  gods,  and  thee,  O  Sun, 
Thou  shining  glory  of  the  heavenly  dome, 

On  whom  as  founder  doth  our  house  depend,  890 

1  call  ye  both  to  witness  that  I  strove 

Against  his  prayers,  though  sorely  tried.     To  threats 

Of  death  my  spirit  did  not  yield;  but  force 

O'ercame  my  body.     This  the  shameful  stain 

Upon  my  honor  which  my  blood  must  cleanse. 

Come,  tell,  who  hath  defiled  our  honor  so  ? 

Whom  thou  wouldst  least  expect.  895 

But  who  is  he  ? 
I  wait  to  hear  his  name. 

This  sword  shall  tell, 
Which  in  his  terror  at  our  loud  laments, 
The  adulterer  left,  fearing  the  citizens. 
Ah  me !     What  villainy  do  I  behold  ? 
What  monstrous  deed  is  this  ?     The  royal  sword, 
Its  ivory  hilt  with  tiny  signs  engraved, 

Shines  out,  the  glory  of  the  Athenian  race.  900 

But  he — where  has  he  gone  ? 

These  slaves  have  seen 
How,  borne  on  speeding  feet,  he  fled  away. 
Oh,  holy  piety!     O  thou  who  reign'st 
In  heaven,  and  thou  who  rulest  in  the  seas, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  199 

Whence  came  this  base  infection  of  our  race?  905 

Was  he  of  Grecian  birth,  or  did  he  spring 
J;  From  Scythian  Taurus  or  some  Colchian  stream  ? 

The  type  reverts  to  its  ancestral  stock, 

And  blood  ignoble  but  repeats  its  source. 
f  This  is  the  madness  of  that  savage  race, 

To  scorn  all  lawful  love,  and  prostitute  910 

At  last  the  long-chaste  body  to  the  crowd. 

Oh,  loathsome  race,  restrained  by  no  good  laws 

Which  milder  climes  revere!     The  very  beasts 

Shun  love  incestuous,  and  keep  the  laws 

Of  nature  with  instinctive  chastity. 

Where  is  that  face,  that  feigned  austerity,  915 

That  rough  and  careless  garb  that  sought  to  ape 

The  ancient  customs  ?    Where  that  aspect  stern, 

That  sour  severity  which  age  assumes  ? 
-*  O  life,  two-faced !     How  thou  dost  hide  thy  thoughts ! 

For  fairest  faces  cover  foulest  hearts; 

fhe  chaste  demeanor  hides  inchastity;  920 

he  gentle,  boldness;  seeming  goodness,  sin. 
alse  men  approve  the  truth;  the  faint  of  heart 
Affect  a  blustering  mood.     O  thou,  of  woods 
Enamored,  savage,  rough  and  virgin  pure, 
Didst  thou  reserve  thyself  for  me  alone  ? 

On  my  couch  first  and  with  so  fell  a  crime  925 

Wast  thou  inclined  to  try  thy  manly  powers  ? 
Now,  now  I  thank  the  kindly  gods  of  heaven 
That  long  ago  I  slew  Antiope; 
That,  when  I  went  below  to  Stygian  caves, 
I  did  not  leave  thy  mother  for  thy  lust. 
Go,  get  thee  far  away  to  unknown  lands; 

And  there,  though  to  her  utmost  bounds  removed,  930 

The  earth  should  hem  thee  off  by  ocean's  wastes; 
Though  thou  shouldst  dwell  at  the  Antipodes; 
Though  to  the  frigid  northern  realms  thou  go, 
And  deep  within  her  farthest  caverns  hide; 
Or,  though  beyond  the  reach  of  winter  placed,  935 

And  drifting  snows,  thou  leave  the  boisterous  threats 
Of  frosty  Boreas  in  mad  pursuit: 


200  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Thou  still  slialt  meet  thy  fitting  punishment. 
Persistent  shall  I  chase  thee  in  thy  flight 
Through  all  thy  hiding-places.     Ways  remote, 
Hemmed  in,  secluded,  hard  and  trackless  ways, 
I'll  traverse  in  pursuit.     No  obstacle  940 

Shall  block  my  way.     Thou  know'st  whence  I  return. 
And  whither  spears  cannot  be  hurled  at  thee 
I'll  hurl  my  prayers.     My  father  of  the  sea 
Once  promised  me  that  thrice  I  might  prevail 
With  him  in  prayer,  and  ratified  the  boon 
By  oath  upon  the  inviolable  Styx. 
[To  Neptune.] 
Thou  ruler  of  the  sea,  the  boon  bestow,  945 

And  grant  my  prayer:  let  not  Hippolytus 
Live  to  behold  another  sun's  bright  rays, 
But  may  he  go  to  meet  those  shades  of  hell 
Enraged  at  my  escape.     O  father,  now 
I  pray  that  aid  which  still  I  deprecate. 

This  last  of  thy  three  boons  I  would  not  use,  950 

If  I  were  not  beset  by  grievous  ills. 
Amidst  the  depths  of  hell  and  dreadful  Dis, 
Amidst  the  infernal  king's  pursuing  threats, 
I  did  not  call  on  thee.     But  now  I  claim 
Thy  promise,  father.     Why  delay  thine  aid  ? 
Why  are  thy  waves  inactive  ?     Let  the  winds  955 

cThat  drive  the  blackening  clouds  bring  darkness  on; 
Snatch  stars  and  sky  from  sight;  pour  forth  the  sea; 
Arouse  thy  watery  monsters,  and  let  loose 
On  him  from  ocean's  depths  thy  swelling  waves. 
[Exit  Theseus.] 
Chorus:         >  Great  nature,  mother  of  the  gods, 

And  thou,  fire-girt  Olympus'  lord,  960 

Who  speedest  through  the  flying  skies 

The  scattered  stars,  the  wandering  ways 

Of  constellations,  and  the  heavens 

Upon  their  whirling  axes  turn'st: 

Why  is  thy  care  so  great  to  keep 

The  annual  highways  of  the  air,  965 

That  now  the  hoary  frosts  may  strip 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  201 
*s 

The  woods  of  leaves,  and  now  the  trees 

May  spread  once  more  their  pleasant  shade; 

That  now  the  summer's  fervent  heat 

May  ripen  Ceres'  gift,  and  soon  970 

Her  strength  the  Autumn  may  subdue? 

But  why,  though  thou  dost  rule  so  wide, 

Though  in  thy  hand  the  ponderous  worlds 

Are  poised,  and  calmly  wheel  along 

Their  appointed  ways,  why  dost  thou  shun 

The  affairs  of  men  and  have  no  care 

For  them?    Art  not  solicitous  975 

That  good  should  prosper,  and  that  sin 

Receive  its  just  deserts?     But  no: 

■/Blind  Fortune  rules  the  affairs  of  men, 

Dispensing  with  unthinking  hand 

Her  gifts,  oft  favoring  the  worst.  980 

And  so  the  violent  oppress 

The  innocent ;  and  fraud  holds  sway 

In  highest  places.     To  the  hands 

Of  brutish  men  the  rabble  most 

Rejoice  to  trust  their  government; 

The  same  they  honor  and  they  hate, 

With  fickle  will.     Sad  virtue  finds 

Her  recompense  for  righteousness 

All  gone  away;  and  poverty,  985 

Relentless,  follows  innocence; 

While,  deep  intrenched  in  wickedness, 

The  adulterer  sits  secure,  and  reigns. 

O  modesty — an  empty  name ! 

And  worth — a  glorious  cheat ! 
But  what  would  yonder  messenger  announce, 
Who  comes  in  haste,  with  woeful  countenance  ?  990 

ACT  IV 

[Enter  Messenger.] 
Messenge r.j  O  slaver)',  thou  hard  and  bitter  lot, 

Why  must  I  voice  these  woes  unspeakable  ? 
Theseus:  \Fear  not,  but  boldly  tell  the  worst  mischance; 

For  mine  a  heart  not  unprepared  for  grief. 


202  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Messenger:  My  tongue  can  find  do  words  to  voice  its  woe.  995 

Theseus:      But  speak,  what  evil  fortune  still  besets 
My  shattered  house? 

Messenger:  Hippolytus  is  dead! 

Theseus:     The  father  knew  long  since  his  son  had  died; 

But  now  the  adulterer  has  met  his  end. 
i  Tell  me,  I  pray,  the  manner  of  his  death. 
Messenger.  When,  fleeing  forth,  he  left  the  city's  walls,  1000 

With  maddened  speed  he  hurried  on  his  way, 

And  quickly  yoked  his  chargers  to  his  car, 

And  curbed  them  to  his  will  with  close-drawn  reins. 

And  then,  with  much  wild  speech,  and  cursing  loud 

His  native  land,  oft  calling  on  his  sire,  1005 

He  fiercely  shook  the  reins  above  his  steeds; 

When  suddenly,  far  out  the  vast  sea  roared, 

And  heaved  itself  to  heaven.     No  wind  was  there 

To  stir  the  sea,  no  quarter  of  the  sky 

Broke  in  upon  its  peace;  the  rising  waves 

Were  by  their  own  peculiar  tempest  raised  1010 

No  blast  so  great  had  ever  stirred  the  straits 

Of  Sicily,  nor  had  the  deep  e'er  swelled 

With  such  wild  rage  before  the  north  wind's  breath, 

When  high  cliffs  trembled  with  the  shock  of  waves, 

And  hoary  foam  smote  high  Leucate's  top. 

The  sea  then  rose  into  a  mighty  heap,  1015 

And,  big  with  monstrous  birth,  was  landward  borne. 

For  no  ship's  wrecking  was  this  swelling  pest 

Intended;  landward  was  its  aim.     The  flood 

Rolled  shoreward  heavily,  something  unknown 

Within  its  laden  bosom  carrying. 

What  land,  new  born,  will  lift  its  head  aloft  ?  1020 

Is  some  new  island  of  the  Cyclades 

Arising?     Now  the  rocky  heights  are  hid, 

Held  sacred  to  the  Epidaurian  god, 

And  those  high  crags  well  known  for  Sciron's  crime; 

No  longer  can  be  seen  that  land  whose  shores 

Are  washed  by  double  seas.     While  in  amaze  1025 

We  look  in  fear  and  wonder,  suddenly 
^  The  whole  sea  bellows,  and  on  every[side 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  203 

The  towering  cliffs  re-echo  with  the  roar; 
While  all  their  tops  the  leaping  spray  bedews. 

(The  deep  spouts  forth  and  vomits  up  its  waves 
In  alternating  streams,  like  some  huge  whale  1030 

Which  roves  the  ocean,  spouting  up  the  floods. 
Then  did  that  mound  of  waters  strongly  heave 
And  break  itself,  and  threw  upon  the  shore 
A  thing  more  terrible  than  all  our  fears. 
The  sea  itself  rushed  landward,  following 
That  monstrous  thing.     I  shudder  at  the  thought. 
What  form  and  bearing  had  the  monster  huge!  1035 

A  bull  it  was  in  form,  with  dark -green  neck 
Uplifted  high,  its  lofty  front  adorned 
With  verdant  mane.     Its  ears  with  shaggy  hair 
Were  rough;  its  horns  with  changing  color  flashed, 
Such  as  the  lord  of  some  fierce  herd  would  have, 
Both  earth  and  ocean-born.     He  vomits  flames;  1040 

With  flames  his  fierce  eyes  gleam.     His  glossy  neck 
Great  couch-like  muscles  shows,  and  as  he  breathes, 
His  spreading  nostrils  quiver  with  the  blast 
Of  his  deep  panting.     Breast  and  dewlap  hang 
All  green  with  clinging  moss;  and  on  his  sides 
Red  lichens  cling.     His  hinder  parts  appear  1045 

In  monstrous  shape,  and  like  some  scaly  fish 
His  vast  and  shapeless  members  drag  along; 
As  are  those  monsters  of  the  distant  seas 
Which  swallow  ships,  and  spout1  them  forth  again. 
The  country-side  was  panic  stricken;  herds  1050 

In  frenzied  terror  scattered  through  the  fields; 
Nor  did  the  herdsmen  think  to  follow  them. 
The  wild  beasts  in  the  forest  pastures  fled 
In  all  directions,  and  the  hunters  shook 
With  deadly  fear.     Hippolytus  alone 

Was  not  afraid,  but  curbed  his  frantic  steeds  1055 

With  close-drawn  reins,  and  with  his  well-known  voice 
He  cheered  them  on.     The  road  to  Argos3  runs 
Precipitous  along  the  broken  hills, 
On  one  side  bordered  by  the  roaring  sea. 

Reading,  reddit.  •  Reading,  Argos. 


204  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Here  does  that  massive  monster  whet  himself 

And  kin. Ik-  hot  his  wrath;  then,  when  he  felt 
His  courage  strong  within  his  breast,  and  when 

His  letter  t<>  attempt  the  strife  In-  had  rehearsed,  1060 

IK-  charged  EQppolytus  with  headlong  course, 

The  ground  scarce  touching  with  his  hounding  feet; 

And,  fearful,  stopped  before  the  trembling  steeds. 

But  this  thy  son,  with  savage  countenance, 

Stood  steadfast,  threatening,  before  the  foe. 

His  features  changed  not,  while  lie  thundered  loud:  1065 

"This  empty  terror  cannot  daunt  my  soul, 

For  'twas  my  father's  task  to  vanquish  bulls." 

But  straightway,  disobedient  to  the  reins, 

The  horses  hurried  off  the  car.     And  now, 
i  The  highway  leaving,  maddened  by  their  fear, 

They  plunged  along  where'er  their  terror  led,  1070 

And  took  their  way  among  the  rocky  fields. 

But  he,  their  driver,  as  some  captain  strong      . 

Holds  straight  his  bark  upon  the  boisterous  set/" 

Lest  she  oppose  her  side  against  the  waves, 

And  by  his  art  escapes  the  yawning  floods; 

Not  otherwise  he  guides  the  whirling  car.  1075 

For  now  with  tight-drawn  reins  he  curbs  his  steeds, 

And  now  upon  their  backs  he  plies  the  lash. 

But  doggedly  that  monster  kept  along, 

Now  running  by  their  side,  now  leaping  straight 

Upon  them  as  they  came,  from  every  hand 

Great  fear  inspiring.     Soon  all  further  flight  1080 

Was  checked;  for  that  dread,  horned,  ocean  beast 

With  lowering  front  charged  full  against  their  course. 
1  Then,  truly,  did  the  horses,  wild  with  fear, 

Break  loose  from  all  control;  and  from  the  yoke 
]  They  madly  struggled  to  withdraw  their  necks, 

Their  master  hurling  to  their  stamping  feet. 

Headlong  among  the  lossened  reins  he  fell,  1085 

His  form  all  tangled  in  their  clinging  strands. 

The  more  he  struggled  to  release  himself 

The  tighter  those  relentless  fetters  bound. 

The  steeds  perceived  what  they  had  done,  and  now, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  205 

With  empty  cur,  and  no  one  mastering  them, 
They  ran  where  terror  bade.  Just  so,  of  old, 
Not  recognizing  their  accustomed  load,  1090 

And  hot  with  anger  that  the  car  of  day 
Had  been  entrusted  to  a  spurious  sun, 
The  steeds  of  Phoebus  hurled  young  Phaethon 
Far  through  the  airs  of  heaven  in  wandering  course. 
/"Now  far  and  wide  he  stains  the  fields  with  blood, 
His  head  rebounding  from  the  smitten  rocks. 
The  bramble  thickets  pluck  away  his  hair,  1095 

And  that  fair  face  is  bruised  upon  the  stones. 
His  fatal  beauty  which  had  been  his  bane, 
Is  ruined  now  by  many  a  wound.     His  limbs 
Are  dragged  along  upon  the  flying  wheels. 
At  last,  his  bleeding  trunk  upon  a  charred 
And  pointed  stake  is  caught,  pierced  through  the  groin; 
And  for  a  little,  by  its  master  held,  1 100 

The  car  stood  still.     The  horses  by  that  wound 
Were  held  awhile,  but  soon  they  break  delay — 
And  break  their  master  too.     While  on  they  rush, 
The  whipping  branches  cut  his  dying  form, 
The  rough  and  thorny  brambles  tear  his  flesh, 
And  every  bush  retains  its  part  of  him. 

Now  bands  of  servants  scour  those  woeful  fields,  1 105 

Those  places  where  Hippolytus  was  dragged, 
And  where  his  bloody  trail  directs  the  way; 
And  sorrowing  dogs  trace  out  their  master's  limbs. 
But  not  as  yet  has  all  this  careful  toil 

Of  grieving  friends  sufficed  to  gather  all.  1 1 10 

And  has  it  come  to  this,  that  glorious  form  ? 
But  now  the  partner  of  his  father's  realm, 
And  his  acknowledged  heir,  illustrious  youth, 
Who  shone  refulgent  like  the  stars — behold 
His  scattered  fragments  for  the  funeral  pile 
They  gather  up  and  heap  them  on  the  bier! 
Theseus:      O  mother  Nature,  all  too  fx)tent  thou ! 

How  firmly  dost  thou  hold  me  by  the  ties  n  15 

Of  blood !     How  thou  dost  force  me  to  obey 
Thy  will !     I  wished  to  slay  my  guilty  son, 


206 


I'lii      Trace  dies    of    Seneca 


While  yet  he  lived;  but  now  1  mourn  his  loss. 
Messenger:  One  may  nol  rightly  mourn  whal  he  has  willed.1 
Theseus:     This  is  indeed  the  crowning  woe,  1  think, 

When  chance  fulfils  ilu-  prayers  we  should  not  make. 
Messenger:  If  still  you  hate  your  son,  why  weep  for  him  ? 
Theseus:      Because  1  slew,  not  lust  my  son,  I  weep. 


1 120 


Clients: 


.'How  on  the  wheel  of  eireumstance 
\\Ye  mortals  whirl!    'Gainst  humble  folk 
Does  Eate  more  gently  rage,  and  God 
More  lightly  smites  the  lightly  blest. 
A  life  in  dim  retirement  spent 
Insures  a  peaceful  soul;  and  he 
Who  in  a  lowly  cottage  dwells 
'.May  live  to  tranquil  age  at  last. 
The  mountain  tops  that  pierce  the  skies, 
Feel  all  the  stormy  winds  that  blow, 
Fierce  Eurus,  Notus,  and  the  threats 
Of  Boreas,  and  Corus  too, 

Storm  bringer. 
The  vale  low  lying  seldom  feels 
The  thunder's  stroke;  but  Caucasus, 
The  huge,  and  the  lofty  Phrygian  groves 
Of  mother  Cybele  have  felt 
The  bolts  of  Jove  the  Thunderer. 
For  Jupiter  in  jealousy 
Attacks  the  heights  too  near  his  skies; 
But  never  is  the  humble  roof 
Uptorn  by  jealous  heaven's  assaults. 
Round  mighty  kings  and  homes  of  kings 

He  thunders. 
The  passing  hour  on  doubtful  wings 
.  Flits  ever;  nor  may  any  claim 
\  Swift  Fortune's  pledge.     Behold  our  king, 
Who  sees  at  last  the  glowing  stars 
And  light  of  day,  the  gloom  of  hell 
Behind  him  left,  a  sad  return 
Laments;  for  this  his  welcome  home 
He  finds  more  sorrowful  by  far 

Reading,  haud  quisquam  honeste  flere,  quod  voluil,  potest. 


TI25 


1 130 


"35 


1 1 40 


1 145 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  207 

Than  dism  I,  dark  Avernus'  self. 

O  Pallas,  by  the  Athenian  race 

In  reverence  held,  that  once  again 

Thy  Theseus  sees  the  light  of  day,  1 150 

And  has  escaped  the  pools  of  Styx, 

Thou  owest  naught  to  greedy  Dis; 

For  still  the  number  of  the  shades 

Within  the  infernal  tyrant's  power 
Remains  the  same. 
But  why  the  sounds  of  wailing  that  we  hear  ? 
And  what  would  Phaedra  with  her  naked  sword?  1155 

ACT  V 

[Enter  Phaedra  until  a  drawn  sword  in  her  hand.] 
Theseusllo  Phaedra]:  What  madness  pricks  thee  on,  all  wild  with  grief  ? 

What  means  that  sword  ?  or  why  these  loud  laments  ? 

Why  weepest  thou  above  the  hated  corpse  ? 
Phaedra:     Me,  me,  O  savage  ruler  of  the  deep, 

Attack;  against  me  send  the  monstrous  shapes  1 160 

That  breed  within  the  caverns  of  the  sea, 

Whatever  Tethys  in  her  heart  conceals, 

And  ocean  hides  within  his  wandering  waves. 

O  Theseus,  always  ill  of  omen  thou ! 

Oh,  never  to  thy  loved  ones  safe  returned, 

Since  son  and  father  by  their  death  have  paid  1 165 

For  thy  home-coming.     Thou  of  thine  own  house 

Art  the  destroyer;  ever  baneful  thou, 

Whether  in  love  or  hatred  of  thy  wives. 

[Turning   to  the   mangled  eorpsc] 

Hippolytus,  is  this  thy  face  I  see  ? 

Have  I  brought  thee  to  this?     What  Sinis  wild, 

What  pitiless  Procrustes  mangled  thee?  11 70 

What  Cretan  bull-man,  filling  all  the  cave 

Of  Daedalus  with  his  vast  bellowings, 

Has  rent  thee  thus  upon  his  savage  horns? 

Ah  me!  where  now  is  fled  thy  beauty  bright, 

Thy  eyes,  my  stars  ?     Dost  thou  all  lifeless  lie  ? 

Come  back  a  little  while  and  hear  my  words.  1 1 75 

'Tis  nothing  base  I  speak.     Willi  my  own  hand 


2o8  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

I'll  make  thee  full  atonement,  and  will  plunge 

The  avenging  sword  within  my  sinful  breast, 

And  so  be  free  from  life  and  Lmilt  at  once. 

Thee  will  1  follow  through  Tartarean  pools, 

Across  tin-  Styx,  through  streams  of  liquid  fire.  1180 

Let  me  appease  the  spirit  of  the  dead. 

Accept  the  sjxiils  I  offer,  take  this  lock 

Torn  from  my  bleeding  forehead.     'Twas  not  right 

To  join  our  souls  in  life;  but  surely  now 

We  may  by  death  unite  our  fates. 
[To  herself.] 

Now  die, 
'  If  thou  art  undefiled,  to  appease  thy  lord; 

But  if  defiled,  die  for  thy  lover's  sake.  1185 

.Is't  meet  that  I  should  live  and  seek  again 

My  husband's  couch,  by  such  foul  incest  stained? 

This  wrong  was  lacking  still,  that,  as  if  pure, 

Thou  shouldst  enjoy  that  union,  justified. 

0  death,  thou  only  cure  for  evil  love, 
For  injured  chastity  the  last  resort: 

1  fly  to  thee;  spread  wide  thy  soothing  arms.  1190 
Hear  me,  O  Athens;   thou,  O  father,  hear, 

Thou  worse  than  stepdame:  I  have  falsely  sworn. 
V  The  crime,  which  I  myself  within  my  heart, 
fl  With  passion  mad,  conceived,  I  basely  charged 
To  him.     An  empty  vengeance  hast  thou  wrought 
Upon  thy  son;  for  he  in  chastity,  1195 

Through  fault  of  the  unchaste,  lies  there,  unstained 
And  innocent. 

[To  Hippolytus.] 
Regain  thine  honor  now; 
Behold  my  impious  breast  awaits  the  stroke 
Of  justice,  and  my  blood  makes  sacrifice 
Unto  the  spirit  of  a  guiltless  man. 
[To  Theseus.] 
How  thou  mayst  recompense  thy  murdered  son, 
7  Learn  now  from  me — and  seek  the  Acheron.  1200 

[She  jails  upon  her  sword  and  dies.] 
Theseus:     Ye  jaws  of  wan  Avernus,  and  ye  caves 


HYp  polytus    or    Phaedra  200, 


Of  Taenara,  ye  floods  of  Lethe's  stream, 
A  soothing  balm  to  hearts  o'ercome  with  grief, 
Ye  sluggish  pools:  take  ye  my  impious  soul 
And  plunge  me  deep  in  your  eternal  woes. 
Now  come,  ye  savage  monsters  of  the  deep, 
[Whatever  Proteus  hides  within  his  caves,  1205 

And  drown  me  in  your  pools,  me  who  rejoice 
In  crime  so  hideous.     O  father,  thou 
Who  ever  dost  too  readily  assent 
Unto  my  wrathful  prayers,  I  merit  not 
An  easy  death,  who  on  my  son  have  brought 
A  death  so  strange,  and  scattered  through  the  fields 
His  mangled  limbs;  who,  while,  as  austere  judge, 
I  sought  to  punish  evil  falsely  charged,  12 10 

Have  fallen  myself  into  the  pit  of  crime. 
For  heaven,  hell,  and  seas  have  by  my  sins 
Been  peopled;  now  no  further  lot  remains; 
Three  kingdoms  know  me  now.     Was  it  for  this 
That  I  returned  ?     Was  heaven's  light  restored 
To  me  that  I  might  see  two  funerals, 

A  double  death  ?     That  I,  bereft  of  wife  1215 

And  son,  should  with  one  torch  upon  the  pyre 
Consume  them  both  ?     Thou  giver  of  the  light 
Which  has  so  baleful  proved,  O,  Hercules, 
Take  back  thy  boon,  and  give  me  up  again 
To  Dis;  restore  me  to  the  cursed  shades 
Whom  I  escaped.     Oh,  impious,  in  vain 

I  call  ujxjn  that  death  I  left  behind.  1220 

Thou  bloody  man,  well  skilled  in  deadly  arts, 
Who  hast  contrived  unwonted  ways  of  death 
And  terrible,  now  deal  unto  thyself 
The  fitting  punishment.     Let  some  great  pine 
lie  bent  to  earth  and  hurl  thee  high  in  air; 
Or  let  me  headlong  leap  from  Sdron's  cliff.  1225 

More  dreadful  punishments  have  I  beheld, 
Which  I'hlegethon  upon  the  guilty  souls 
Encircled  by  his  fiery  stream  inflicts. 
What  suffering  awaits  me,  and  what  place, 
Full  well  I  know.     Make  room,  ye  guilty  shades; 


-MO 


The    T  r  a  g  e  d  i  es      o  k     S  k  \  i:  C  A 


Chorus: 


Theseus: 


On  me,  me  only,  let  thai  rock  be  placed, 

The  everlasting  toil  of  Sisyphus,  1230 

Ami  Kt  these  wearied  bands  upbear  its  weight; 

Lei  cooling  waters  lap  and  mock  my  lips; 

Let  that  fell  vulture  fly  from  Tityos, 

And  let  my  vitals  ever  living  be 

For  punishment.     And  thou,  Ixion,  sire  1235 

Of  my  Pirithoiis,  take  rest  awhile, 

And  let  the  wheel  that  never  stops  its  flight 

Bear  these  my  limbs  upon  its  whirling  rim. 

Now  yawn,  ()  earth,  and  chaos  dire,  receive, 

I  pray,  receive  me  to  your  depths;  for  thus 

'Tis  fitting  that  I  journey  to  the  shades. 

I  go  to  meet  my  son.     And  fear  thou  not,  1240 

Thou  king  of  dead  men's  souls;  I  come  in  peace 

To  that  eternal  home,  whence  ne'er  again 

Shall  I  come  forth. 

My  prayers  move  not  the  gods. 
But  if  some  impious  plea  I  made  to  them, 
I  low  ready  would  they  be  to  grant  my  prayer! 
Theseus,  thou  hast  unending  time  to  mourn. 
Now  pay  the  funeral  honors  due  thy  son,  1245 

And  bury  these  poor  torn  and  scattered  limbs. 
Then  hither  bring  the  pitiful  remains 
Of  that  dear  corpse,  and  heap  together  here 
That  shapeless  mass  of  flesh,  those  mangled  limbs. 
Is  this  Hippolytus  ?     I  realize 

My  depth  of  crime,  for  I  have  murdered  thee.  1250 

And  lest  but  once  and  I  alone  should  sin, 
A  parent,  bent  to  do  an  impious  thing, 
My  father  did  I  summon  to  my  aid. 
Behold,  my  father's  boon  do  I  enjoy. 
O  childlessness,  a  bitter  loss  art  thou 
For  broken  age!     But  come,  embrace  his  limbs, 
Whatever  of  thy  hapless  son  is  left, 

And  clasp  them,  wretched  father,  to  thy  breast.  1255 

Arrange  in  order  those  dismembered  parts, 
And  to  their  proper  place  restore  them.     Here 
His  brave  right  hand  should  be.     Place  here  the  left, 


Hippolytus    or    Phaedra  211 

Well  trained  to  curb  his  horses  with  the  reins. 
The  marks  of  his  left  side  I  recognize;  1260 

And  yet  how  large  a  part  is  lacking  still 
Unto  our  tears.     Be  firm,  ye  trembling  hands, 
To  do  the  last  sad  offices  of  grief; 
)Be  dry,  my  cheeks,  and  stay  your  flowing  tears, 
While  I  count  o'er  the  members  of  my  son, 
And  lay  his  body  out  for  burial.  1265 

What  is  this  shapeless  piece,  on  all  sides  torn 
With  many  a  wound  ?     I  know  not  what  it  is, 
Save  that  'tis  part  of  thee.     Here  lay  it  down. 
Not  in  its  own,  but  in  an  empty  place. 
That  face,  that  once  with  starry  splendor  gleamed, 
That  softened  by  its  grace  e'en  foemen's  eyes,  1270 

Has  that  bright  beauty  come  to  this  ?     O  fate, 
How  bitter !     Deadly  favor  of  the  gods ! 
And  is  it  thus  my  son  comes  back  to  me 
In  answer  to  my  prayers  ?     These  final  rites 
Thy  father  pays,  receive,  O  thou  my  son, 
Who  often  to  thy  funeral  must  be  borne. 
And  now  let  fires  consume  these  dear  remains. 
Throw  open  wide  my  palace,  dark  with  death,  1275 

And  let  all  Athens  ring  with  loud  laments. 
Do  some  of  you  prepare  the  royal  pyre, 
And  others  seek  yet  farther  in  the  fields 
His  scattered  parts. 

[Pointing  to  Phaedra's  corpse .] 

Let  earth  on  her  be  spread, 
And  may  it  heavy  rest  upon  her  head.  1280 


HERCULES  OETAEUS 


HERCULES  OETAEUS 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

Hercules  .  Son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmena. 

Hyllus     .    .  Son  of  Hercules  and  Deianira. 

Alcmena  .    .  Daughter  of  Electryon,  king  of  Mycenae. 

Deianira      .  Daughter  of  Oeneus,  king  of  Aetolia,  and  wife  of  Hercules. 

Iole  ....  Daughter  of  Eurytus,  king  of  Oechalia. 

Nurse      .    .  Of  Deianira. 

Philoctetes   .  A  prince  of  Thessaly,  son  of  Poeas,  and  the  faithful    friend  of 

Hercules. 

Ijchas      .    .  The  messenger  (persona  muta)  of  Deianira  to  Hercules. 

Chorus     .    .  Of  Aetolian  women,  faithful  to  Deianira. 

Band  ...   Of  Oechalian  maidens,  suffering  captivity  in  company  with 
Iole. 


THE  scene  is  laid,  first  in  Euboea,  and  later  at  th    bom    of  Hercuks 
in  Trachin. 


The  long,  heroic  life  oj  Hercules  has  neared  its  end.  His  twelve  great 
t  isks,  assigned  him  by  Eurystheus  through  Juno's  hatred,  have  been  done. 
His  latest  victory  was  over  Eurytus,  king  of  Oechalia.  Him  he  slew  and 
overthrew  his  house,  because  the  monarch  would  not  give  him  Iole  to  wife. 

And  now  the  hero,  having  overcome  the  world,  and  Pluto's  realm  beneath 
the  earth, ^.spires  to  heaven.  He  sacrifices  to  Cenaean  Jove,  and  prays  at 
last  to  be  received  into  his  proper  home. 


ACT  I 

[On  the  Cenaean  promontory  of  the  island  of  Euboea.] 
Hercules  [about  to  sacrifice  to  Cenaean  Jove]:  O  sire  of  gods, 
from  whose  almighty  hand 
LBoth  homes  of  Phoebus  feel  thy  darting  bolt: 

Rule  now  serene,  for  I  have  'stablished  peace 

Wherever  Nereus  checks  the  spreading  lands. 

Now  let  thy  thunders  rest;  for  treacherous  kings  5 

And  savage  tyrants  are  in  ruin  laid. 

Whatever  merited  thy  blasting  darts 

Have  I  o'erthrown  and  crushed.     But,  father,  why 

Is  heaven  still  denied  to  me,  thy  son  ? 

For  surely  have  I  ever  shown  myself 

A  worthy  child  of  Jove;  and  Juno's  self, 

My  hard  task-mistress,  testifies  to  this, 

That  I  am  born  of  thee.     Why  dost  thou  still  10 

[Contrive  delays  ?    Am  I  thy  cause  of  fear  ? 
|Will  Atlas  not  avail  to  prop  the  skies 

[f  to  their  bulk  the  weight  of  Hercules 
ie  superadded  ?     Why,  O  father,  why 

Dost  thou  deny  the  stars  to  me  ?     To  thee 

Did  death  restore  me;  every  monstrous  shape 

Which  had  its  source  in  earth  or  sea  or  air, 

Or  hell  itself,  has  yielded  to  my  arms.  15 

No  lion  treads  the  Arcadian  cities  now; 

Stymphalus  fears  no  more  its  noxious  birds; 

The  wondrous  stag  of  Macnalus  is  dead; 

The  watchful  dragon  spattered  with  its  blood 

The  golden  grove;  the  hydra's  force  is  gone; 

Those  famous  horses  to  the  Hebrus  known, 

Which  fattened  on  the  blood  of  murdered  guests,  20 

-Have  I  destroyed,  and  spoils  of  war  obtained 
1  In  victory  o'er  my  Amazonian  foe. 

I  saw  the  silent  realms;  nor  all  alone 

Did  I  return,  but  shuddering  day  heheld 

Dark  Cerberus,  and  he  beheld  the  sun. 

217 


21$  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

No  more  Antaeus,  Libya's  monarch  huge, 

His  Btrength  renews;  before  bis  bloody  shrines  25 

Busiris  lies  o'erthrown;  by  my  sole  hand 

The  threefold  GeryOD  was  o'ereome  and  slain, 
And  that  dread  terror  of  8  hundred  tribes, 
The  Cretan  hull,  yea  all  the  monstrous  things 
To  which  the  hostile  world  has  given  birth, 
Have  fallen  in  utter  ruin  by  my  hand. 

If  now  the  earth  am  show  no  monsters  more,  30 

If  now  my  stepdame  has  her  wrath  fulfilled, 
Restore  the  father  to  his  son;  yea,  more — 
Admit  the  hero  to  his  proper  skies. 
I  ask  not  that  thou  point  the  way  to  me; 
Permit  it  only,  father,  and  the  way       v 
I'll  find.     Or,  if  thou  fearest  that  the  e4rth 
Shall  to  the  light  new  shapes  of  terror  bring, 
Let  them  make  haste  to  come,  whate'er  they  be,  35 

While  still  the  earth  beholds  her  Hercules. 
For  who  will  e'er  again  these  fearsome  things 
Attack,  or  who,  throughout  the  towns  of  Greece, 
Will  e'er  be  worthy  of  great  Juno's  hate  ?*J 
In  truth,  my  praises  have  I  safe  bestowed, 
-Since  now  there  is  no  land  but  sings  of  me. 
-j'The  Scythian,  dwelling  in  the  frozen  North,  40 

nThe  Indian,  smitten  by  the  burning  rays 
\Of  Phoebus,  and  the  tropic  African: 
All  know  my  fame.     O  glowing  Sun,  I  thee 
As  witness  call:  I  have  encountered  thee 
Where'er  thou  shin'st;  nor  have  thy  darting  beams 
Availed  to  follow  my  triumphant  course. 
I've  gone  beyond  the  reaches  of  the  sun,  \ 
And  daylight  halted  far  within  my  bounds.  45 

The  world  of  nature  yielded;  for  my  steps       A 
No  earth  remained.     She  was  exhausted  first. 
But  night  and  utter  chaos  met  me  there. 
From  that  dark  realm  whence  no  one  e'er  returns, 
Have  I  come  back  to  earth.     Old  Ocean's  threats 
Have  I  endured;  no  raging  storm  of  his  50 

Has  e'er  prevailed  to  overcome  the  bark 


Hercules    Oetaeus  219 

In  which  I  fared.     How  small  a  part  I  tell!  : 

Exhausted  is  the  air  and  can  no  more 

Suffice  to  feed  the  hatred  of  thy  wife; 

The  earth  in  fear  brings  forth  no  monster  more 

For  me  to  conquer,  no  wild  beasts  of  prey. 

These  are  denied  to  me,  and  in  the  stead  55 

Of  monster  have  I  come  myself  to  be. 

How  many  evils  have  I  overcome, 

Though  all  unarmed!     Whatever  monstrous  thing 

Opposed,  these  empty  hands  have  overthrown; 

Nor  did  there  ever  live  a  savage  beast 

Which  I  as  boy  or  infant  feared  to  meet. 

My  bidden  labors  have  seemed  always  light, 

And  no  day  ever  dawned  that  brought  to  me  60 

No  strenuous  toil.     How  many  monstrous  tasks 

Have  I  fulfilled  which  no  king  set  to  me! 

A  harder  master  has  my  courage  been 

Than  ever  Juno  was.     But  what  avails 

jThat  I  have  saved  the  human  race  from  fear  ? 

The  gods  in  consequence  have  lost  their  peace. 

The  freed  earth  sees  whatever  she  has  feared  65 

Now  set  in  heaven;  for  Juno  thitherward 

Hath  borne  the  beasts  I  slew.     Restored  to  life, 

The  Crab  fares  safely  in  his  torrid  path, 

A  constellation  now  in  southern  skies, 

And  ripens  Libya's  waving  fields  of  grain. 

The  Lion  to  the  heavenly  Virgin  gives 

The  flying  year;  but  he,  with  beaming  mane  70 

Upon  his  wild  neck  tossing,  dries  the  winds 

Which  drip  with  moisture,  and  the  clouds  devours. 

Behold,  the  beasts  have  all  invaded  heaven, 

Forestalling  me.     Though  victor,  here  I  stand 

Upon  the  earth,  and  view  my  labors  there.  w 

For  Juno  to  the  monsters  and  the  beasts 

Has  given  stars,  that  so  the  heavenly  realm  75 

Might  be  for  me  a  place  of  terror  made. 

But  no !  Though  in  her  wrath  she  fill  the  skies 

With  monsters,  though  she  make  the  heavens  worse 

1  Reading,  quant  proscqunr. 


22o  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Than  earth  and  hell,  yel  shall  a  place  be  given 

To  Hercules.    If,  after  beasts  and  wars, 

If,  after  I  subdued  the  Stygian  dog, 

1  have  not  earned  a  place  among  the  stars,  80 

Then  shall  Sicilian  Pelorus  touch 

Hesperia's  shores,  and  both  shall  be  one  land. 

I'll  put  the  intervening  sea  to  flight; 

Or,  if  thou  wilt  that  severed  seas  be  joined, 

Then  Isthmus  shall  give  passage  to  the  waves, 

And  Attic  vessels  by  a  new-found  way  / 

Shall  sail  united  seas.     I'll  change  the  world.  85 

Along  new  channels  shall  the  Hister  flow, 

And  Tanai's  find  new  passage  to  the  sea. 

Grant,  grant,  O  Jupiter,  this  boon  to  me, 

That  I  at  least  may  shield  the  gods  from  harm. 

There  mayst  thou  lay  aside  thy  thunderbolts, 

Where  I  stand  guard  against  thy  enemies. 

Whether  thou  bid'st  me  guard  the  icy  pole, 

Or  o'er  the  torrid  regions  watch,  be  sure  90 

That  on  that  side  the  gods  may  be  at  rest. 

Apollo  earned  the  shrine  of  Pythia 

And  heaven,  because  he  slew  the  Python  huge; 

But  Oh,  how  many  Pythons  did  I  slay 

In  that  dire  hydra !   Bacchus,  Perseus,  too, 

Have  found  a  place  among  the  heavenly  gods.  95 

How  small  that  eastern  portion  of  the  earth 

Which  he  subdued!     How  meager  is  the  spoil 

Which  Perseus  in  the  stony  Gorgon  gained! 

What  son  of  thine  from  Juno  born  has  earned 

A  place  in  heaven  because  of  his  renown  ? 

I  seek  the  skies  which  I  myself  have  borne. 

[Turning  to  Lichas.] 
But  thou,  O  Lichas,  comrade  of  my  toils, 
Go  tell  my  triumphs  over  Eurytus,  100 

,His  lares  conquered  and  his  realm  o'erthrown. 

[To  his  attendants.] 
Do  you  with  speed  the  victims  hurry  on 
To  where  the  temple  of  Cenaean  Jove 
Looks  off  upon  the  wild  Euboean  sea. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  221 

Band  oj  captive  Oechalian  maidens:    The  mate  of  the 
immortals  he, 

Whose  life  and  fortune  hand  in  hand 

Go  on  apace.     But  worse  than  death  105 

Is  life,  dragged  on  with  many  groans. 

Whoe'er  has  trodden  under  foot 
2  The  greedy  fates,  and  can  disdain 

The  boat  that  plies  on  death's  dark  stream, 

Will  never  feel  the  galling  chains 

Upon  his  captive  arms;  nor  grace, 

As  noble  spoil,  the  victor's  train.  1 10 

CFor  he  who  faces  death  with  joy 

Can  ne'er  be  wretched.     Should  his  bark 

Be  wrecked  upon  the  stormy  sea 

Where  Africus  with  Boreas, 

And  Zephyrus  with  Eurus  strive, 

And  rend  the  seas;  he  does  not  seek 

To  gather  up  the  broken  parts  115 

t  Of  his  wrecked  ship,  that,  far  at  sea, 

He  still  may  cherish  hopes  of  land. 
(For  he,  who  ever  ready  stands 
jTo  give  his  life,  alone  is  safe 

From  all  the  perils  of  the  storm. 
(But  we  are  held  by  shameful  grief, 

The  gaunt,  drawn  face,  the  streaming  tears, 

By  the  ashes  of  our  fatherland 

Besprinkled.     Us  no  whirling  flame,  120 

Nor  crash  of  falling  walls  o'erwhelms. 

Thou  dost  pursue  the  fortunate, 

O  death,  but  fleest  from  wretched  souls. 

Behold,  we  live:  but  Oh,  no  more, 

Our  country's  walls1  remain;  their  place 

Shall  soon  be  hidden  by  the  woods, 

And  all  our  temples  fall  away 

To  squalid  hovels.     Even  now  125 

The  cold  Dolopian  will  come 

And  o'er  the  ashes,  glowing  yet, 

Sad  remnants  of  Oechalia, 

« Reading,  patriae  moenibus. 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Will  drive  his  Bocks.    And  sunn,  alas, 
Within  our  walls,  the  shepherd  rude 

Shall  sing  U|Kin  his  rustic  pipes, 

With  doleful  voice,  our  history.  130 

And  when  the  hand  of  God  shall  speed 

A  few  more  generations  on, 

The  very  place  where  once  we  dwelt 

Will  be  forgotten.     Happy  once, 

I  kept  no  barren  hearth  at  home; 

Not  mine  the  hungry  acres  then 

Of  Thessaly.     But  now  I'm  called 

To  Trachin's  rough  and  stony  land,  135 

To  ridges  parched  and  jungle-set, 

To  groves  which  e'en  the  mountain  goat 

Would  not  inhabit.     But,  perchance, 

Some  milder  fate  the  captives  calls. 

Then  will  they  see  the  Inachus, 

Whose  rapid  waves  shall  bear  them  on, 

Or  dwell  within  Dircaean  walls  140 

Where  flows  Ismenus'  scanty  stream — 

And  where  was  once  the  mother  wed 

Of  mighty  Hercules. 

False  is  that  tale  of  doubled  night, 

When  overlong  the  stars  delayed 

Within  the  skies,  and  Hesperus 
^  In  place  of  Lucifer  arose, 

And  Delia  with  tardy  car  145 

\  Kept  back  the  sun.     What  Scythian  crag 

Begot  thee,  or  what  stony  mount  ? 

Like  some  wild  Titan  wast  thou  born 

On  Rhodope,  or  Athos  rough  ? 

What  savage  beast  on  Caspian  shores, 

Wdiat  spotted  tigress,  suckled  thee  ?  150 

Impervious  to  wounds  is  he. 

Sharp  spears  are  blunted,  steel  is  bent 

Against  his  heart;  and  glittering  swords, 

Upon  his  naked  members  struck, 

In  broken  fragment  drop  apart; 

Stones  strike,  but  harmlessly  rebound. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  223 

And  so  he  scorns  the  deadly  fates,  155 

And,  all  invincible,  provokes 

I  lis  death.     No  spears  can  pierce  his  heart, 
;No  arrow  shot  from  Scythian  bow, 

No  darts  which  cold  Sarmatians  bear, 

Or  they  who  dwell  beneath  the  dawn, 

The  Parthians,  whose  fatal  shafts 

More  deadly  than  the  Cretan  dart,  160 

The  neighboring  Nabathaeans  wound. 

Oechalia's  walls  he  overthrew 

With  his  bare  hands.     Naught  can  withstand 

I I  is  onslaught.     For  whate'er  he  plans 
To  overcome,  is  by  that  fact 
Already  overcome.     How  few 

The  foes  who  by  his  wounds  have  fallen ! 

His  angry  countenance  means  death;  165 

And  to  have  met  his  threatening  gaze 

Is  worse  than  death.     What  Gyas  huge, 

What  vast  Briareus,  who  stood 

Upon  Thessalia's  mountain  heap 

And  clutched  at  heaven  with  snaky  hands, 

Would  not  have  frozen  at  the  glance 

Of  that  dread  face  ?     But  mighty  ills  170 

Have  mighty  recompense:  no  more 

Is  left  to  suffer — we  have  seen, 

Oh,  woe !  the  angry  Hercules ! 
Iole:  But  I,  unhappy  one,  must  mourn, 

Not  temples  with  their  gods  o'erthrown, 

Not  scattered  hearths  and  burning  homes, 

Where  lie  in  common  ruin  mixed 

Fathers  with  sons,  and  gods  with  men,  175 

Temples  and  towns — the  common  woe; 
.But  fortune  calls  my  tears  away 
)  To  other  grief.     Fate  bids  me  weep 

O'er  other  ruins.     What  lament  180 

Shall  I  make  first  ?     What  greatest  ill 

Shall  I  bewail  ?     All  equally 

I'll  weep.    Ah  me,  that  mother  earth 

Hath  not  more  bosoms  given  me, 


234  Thi     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

That  worthily  they  might  resound  J 

Unto  my  grief.     But,  <  >  ye  gods, 

Transform  me  to  a  weeping  rock  185 

On  Sipylus;  or  set  me  where, 
Between  its  grassy  banks,  the  Po 
Glides  on,  where  grieving  woods  respond 
To  the  mourning  of  the  sisters  sad 
Of  Phaethon;  or  to  the  shores 
Of  Sicily  transport  me.    There, 

Another  Siren,  let  me  mourn  190 

The  woeful  fate  of  Thessaly. 
Or  bear  me  to  the  Thracian  woods, 
Where,  underneath  Ismarian  shade, 
The  Daulian  bird  bewails  her  son. 
Give  me  a  form  to  fit  my  tears, 

And  let  rough  Trachin  echo  back  195 

My  cries  of  woe.     The  Cyprian  maid 
Still  soothes  her  grieving  heart  with  tears; 
Still  Ceyx's  royal  spouse  bemoans 
Her  vanished  lord;  and  Niobe, 
Surviving  life  and  grief,  weeps  on; 
Her  human  form  has  Philomel 
Escaped,  and  now  with  doleful  notes 

The  Attic  maid  bewails  her  dead.  200 

Oh,  that  my  arms  were  feathered  wings! 
Oh,  then,  how  happy  would  I  be, 
When,  hidden  in  the  forest  depths, 

I  might  lament  in  plaintive  strain,  205 

And  live  in  fame  as  Iole, 
The  maiden  bird.     I  saw,  alas, 
I  saw  my  father's  dreadful  fate, 
When,  smitten  with  that  deadly  club, 

He  fell,  in  mangled  fragments  dashed  210 

Throughout  the  palace  hall.     If  then 
^His  fate  had  granted  burial, 
How  often  had  I  searched,  O  sire, 
For  all  thy  parts ! 
How  could  I  look  upon  thy  death, 
O  Toxeus,  with  thy  tender  cheeks 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


225 


Unbearded  yet,  thy  boyish  veins 

Not  yet  with  manhood's  vigor  filled  ? 

But  why  do  I  bewail  your  fates, 

O  parents,  whom  to  safety  now 

Kind  death  has  borne  ?     My  fortune  bids 

That  I  bewail  myself  instead. 

Soon,  ah  too  soon,  in  captive  state, 

Shall  I  the  flying  spindle  turn 

For  some  proud  mistress  in  her  hall. 

0  cruel  beauty,  how  hast  thou 
Decreed  my  death !     For  thee  alone 
Am  I  and  all  my  house  undone, 
Since  when  my  sire  to  Hercules 
Refused  my  hand,  because  he  feared 
Great  Hercules  as  son-in-law. 

And  now,  not  wife,  but  captive  maid, 

1  seek  my  haughty  mistress'  home. 
Chorus:            Why  dost  thou,  foolish,  ever  dwell 

Upon  thy  sire's  illustrious  realm, 
And  on  thy  own  unhappy  fate  ? 
Forget  thy  former  station  now; 
For  only  is  he  happy  who, 
As  king  or  slave,  knows  how  to  bear 
His  lot,  and  fit  his  countenance 
To  changing  circumstance.     For  he 
Who  bears  his  ills  with  steadfast  soul 
Has  from  misfortune  reft  away 
Its  strength  and  heaviness. 

ACT  II 

[In  the  palace  0)  Deianira  at  Traclriu.] 
Nurse  of  Deianira:    Oh,  bitter  is  the  rage  a  woman  feels, 

When  in  one  house  both  wife  and  mistress  dwell ! 

No  wrecking  Scylla,  no  Charybdis  dire, 

The  wild  upheavers  of  Sicilia's  waves, 

No  savage  beast,  is  more  untamed  than  she.  J 

For  when  the  maiden's  beauty  was  revealed, 

And  Iole  shone  like  the  cloudless  sky, 

Or  gleaming  stars  within  the  heavens  serene, 


215 


220 


225 


230 


235 


3a6  T  ii  i     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Then  did  Ah  ides'  bride  like  one  distraught  240 

Stand  gazing  fiercely  on  the  captive  maid; 
As  when  a  tigress,  lying  with  her  young 
Beneath  some  rock  in  far  Armenia, 
Leaps  up  in  meet  an  enemy's  approach; 
Or  as  a  Maenad,  by  the  god  inspired, 
And  bidden  shake  the  lliyrsus,  stands  awhile 
In  wonder  whither  she  shall  take  her  way. 
Then  she  throughout  the  house  of  Hercules  245 

Goes  madly  rushing;  nor  docs  all  the  house 
Give  space  enough.     Now  here,  now  there  she  runs, 
At  random  wandering;  and  now  she  stands, 
Her  face  reflecting  woe  in  every  line, 
The  inmost  feelings  of  her  heart  revealed. 
She  threatens  fiercely,  then  a  flood  of  tears 
Succeeds  to  threats.     No  mood  for  long  endures,  250 

Nor  can  one  form  of  rage  content  her  long. 
Now  flame  her  cheeks  with  wrath;  pale  terror  now 
Drives  out  the  flush  of  anger,  and  her  grief 
Takes  every  form  that  maddened  sorrow  knows: 
Complainings,  prayers,  and  groans.     But  now  the  doors 
Are  creaking:  see,  she  comes  in  frenzied  haste, 
With  words  confused  revealing  all  her  heart.  255 

[Enter  Deianira.] 
Deianira:    O  wife  of  Jove,  where'er  in  heaven  thou  dwell'st, 
Against  Alcides  send  some  raging  beast 
That  shall  be  dire  enough  to  sate  my  wrath. ■* 
If  any  hydra  rears  its  fertile  head 
Too  vast  to  be  contained  in  any  pool, 
Impossible  of  conquest,  send  it  forth. 

If  anything  is  worse  than  other  beasts,  260 

Enormous,  unrelenting,  horrible, 
From  which  the  eye  of  even  Hercules 
Would  turn  in  fear,  let  such  an  one  come  out 
v  From  its  huge  den.     But  if  no  beasts  avail, 
This  heart  of  mine  into  some  monster  change;  » 
For  of  my  hate  can  any  shape  be  made 

That  thou  desir'st.     Oh,  mould  my  woman's  form  265 

To  match  my  grief.     My  breast  cannot  contain  J 


Hercules    O  e t  a  e  u  s  227 

Its  rage.     Why  dost  thou  search  the  farthest  bounds 

Of  earth,  and  overturn  the  world  ?     Or  why 

Dost  thou  demand  of  hell  its  evil  shapes? 

This  breast  of  mine  will  furnish  for  thy  use 

All  fearful  things.     To  work  thy  deadly  hate  270 

Use  me  as  tool.     Thou  canst  destroy  him  quite. 

Do  thou  but  use  these  hands  for  what  thou  will. 

Why  dost  thou  hesitate,  O  goddess  ?     See, 

Use  me,  the  raging  one.     What  impious  deed 

Dost  thou  command  ?     Decide.     Why  doubtful  stand  ? 

Now  mayst  thou  rest  awhile  from  all  thy  toils, 

For  my  rage  is  enough.  275 

Xurse:  O  child  of  mine, 

These  sad  outpourings  of  thy  maddened  heart 
(Restrain,  quench  passion's  fire,  and  curb  thy  grief. 
Show  now  that  thou  art  wife  of  Hercules. 

Deianira:    Shall  captive  Iole  unto  my  sons 

Give  brothers,  and  a  lowly  slave  become 
The  daughter-in-law  of  Jove  ?     In  common  course 
Will  fire  and  rushing  torrent  never  run;  280 

The  thirsty  Bear  will  never  taste  the  sea — 
And  never  shall  my  woes  go  unavenged. 
Though  thou  didst  bear  the  vasty  heavens  up, 
Though  all  the  world  is  debtor  unto  thee, 
'Twill  not  avail  thee  now,  for  thou  shalt  find 
A  monster  greater  far  than  Hydra's  rage, 
»An  angry  wife's  revenge,  awaiting  thee. 

The  flames  that  leap  from  A^tnaVs  top  to  heaven  285 

Burn  not  so  fiercely  as  my  passion's  fire 
Which  shall  outvie  whate'er  thou  hast  o'ercomc. 
Shall  then  a  captive  slave  usurp  my  bed  ? 
Before,  I  feared  the  monsters  dire;  but  now, 
Those  pests  have  vanished  quite,  and  in  their  stead 
This  hated  rival  comes.     O  mighty  God,  290 

Of  all  gods  ruler,  O  thou  lustrous  Sun, 
'Tis  only  in  his  perils,  then,  it  seems, 
Have  I  been  wife  to  Hercules.     The  gods 
Have  granted  to  the  captive  all  my  prayers; 
For  her  behoof  have  I  been  fortunate. 


c: 


aa8       The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

Ye  hoard,  indeed,  my  prayers,  O  gods  of  heaven, 
And  Hercules  is  safe  returned—  for  her!  295 

(  i  grief,  that  DO  revenge  can  satisfy, 
Seek  out  some  dreadful  means  of  punishment, 
By  man  unthought  of  and  unspeakable. 
Teach  Juno's  self  how  slight  her  hatred  is.-j 
She  knows  not  how  to  rage.     O  Hercules,  I 
For  me  didst  thou  thy  mighty  battles  wage; 
For  me  did  Achelous  dye  his  waves  300 

With  his  own  blood  in  mortal  strife  with  thee, 
When  now  a  writhing  serpent  he  became, 
Now  to  a  threatening  bull  he  turned  himself, 
And  thou  a  thousand  beasts  didst  overcome 
In  one  sole  enemy.     But  now,  alas, 
Am  I  no  longer  pleasing  in  thy  sight, 
And  this  base  captive  is  preferred  to  me. 

But  this  she  shall  not  be.     For  that  same  day  305 

Which  ends  our  married  joys  shall  end  thy  life. 
But  what  is  this  ?     My  rage  begins  to  fail 
And  moderate  its  threats.     My  anger's  gone. 
Why  dost  thou  languish  thus,  O  wretched  grief? 
Wilt  thou  give  o'er  thy  passion,  be  again 
The  faithful,  uncomplaining  wife?     Ah  no! 
Why  dost  thou  strive  to  check  the  flames  of  wrath  ?  310 

Why  quench  its  fire  ?     Let  me  but  keep  my  rage, 
And  I  shall  be  the  peer  of  Hercules, 
And  I  shall  need  to  seek  no  heavenly  aid. 
But  still,  though  all  uncalled,  will  Juno  come 
To  guide  my  hands. 
Nurse:  What  crime  dost  thou  intend, 

O  foolish  one?     Wilt  slay  thy  noble  lord,  315 

Whose  praises  from  the  east  to  west  are  known, 

Whose  fame  extends  from  earth  to  highest  heaven  ? 

For  all  the  earth  will  rise  to  avenge  his  death ; 

And  this  thy  father's  house  and  all  thy  race 

Will  be  the  first  to  fall.     Soon  rocks  and  brands  320 

Will  be  against  thee  hurled,  since  every  land 

Will  its  protector  shield;  and  thou  alone 

Wilt  suffer  many,  many  penalties. 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


229 


Suppose  thou  canst  escape  the  world  of  men ; 
Still  must  thou  face  the  thunderbolts  of  Jove, 
The  father  of  Alcides.     Even  now 
His  threat'ning  torches  gleam  athwart  the  sky, 
And  all  the  heavens  tremble  with  the  shock. 
Nay,  death  itself,  wherein  thou  hop'st  to  find 
A  place  of  safe  retreat — fear  that  as  well; 
For  there  Alcides'  uncle  reigns  supreme. 
Turn  where  thou  wilt,  O  wretched  woman;  there 
Shalt  thou  behold  thy  husband's  kindred  gods. 
Deianira:    A  fearful  crime  it  is,  I  do  confess; 

But  Oh,  my  passion  bids  me  do  it  still. 
Nurse:        Thou'lt  die. 
Deianira:  But  as  the  wife  of  Hercules 

I'll  die;  no  night  shall  ever  bring  the  day 

That  shall  behold  me  cheated  of  my  own, 

Nor  shall  a  captive  mistress  have  my  bed. 

Sooner  shall  western  skies  give  birth  to  day; 

Sooner  shall  men  of  India  make  their  home 

Beneath  the  icy  pole,  and  Phoebus  tan 

With  his  hot  rays  the  shivering  Scythians, 

Than  shall  the  dames  of  Thessaly  behold 

My  downfall.     For  with  my  own  blood  I'll  quench 

The  marriage  torches.     Either  he  shall  die, 

Or  slay  me  with  his  hand.     To  all  the  beasts 

Whom  he  has  slaughtered  let  him  add  his  wife; 

Let  me  be  numbered  'mongst  his  mighty  deeds; 

But  in  my  death  my  body  still  shall  claim 

The  couch  of  Hercules.     Oh,  sweet,  'tis  sweet 

To  fare  to  Hades  as  Alcides'  bride, 

And  not  without  my  vengeance.     If,  indeed, 

From  Hercules  my  rival  has  conceived, 

With  my  own  hands  I'll  tear  the  child  away 

Untimely,  and  that  shameless  harlot  face 

Within  her  very  wedding  torches'  glare. 

And  though  in  wrath  upon  his  nuptial  day 

He  slay  me  as  a  victim  at  the  shrine, 

Let  me  but  fall  upon  my  rival's  corse, 

And  I  shall  die  content.     For  happy  he 


325 


M° 


335 


34o 


345 


»3° 


T  ii  i      T  k  A  G  1:  i>  I  E  s     o  F     S  E  N  E  C  A 


Who  drags  with  him  his  enemy  to  death.  350 

Nurse:     \  Why  dost  thou  FeSd  thy  passion's  flames,  poor  child, 

And  nurse  thy  grief?     Why  cherish  needless  fear? 

I  [e  did  feel  love  for  lole,  'lis  true; 

Bui  in  the  time  while  yet  her  father  reigned, 

And  while  she  was  a  haughty  monarch's  child. 

The  princess  now  has  fallen  to  the  place 

Of  slave,  and  love  has  lost  its  power  to  charm,  355 

Since  her  unhappy  state  has  stol'n  from  her 

Her  loveliness.    The  unattainable 

Is  ever  sought  in  love.     But  from  the  thing 

That  is  within  his  reach  love  turns  away. 
Deianira:    Nay:  fallen  fortunes  fan  the  flames  of  love; 

And  for  this  very  reason  does  he  love, 

Because  her  home  is  lost,  and  from  her  head 

The  crown  of  gleaming  gold  and  gems  has  fallen.  360 

For  these  her  woes  he  pities  her — and  loves. 

'Twas  e'er  his  wont  to  love  his  captive  maids. 
Xiirsc:        'Tis  true,  he  loved  the  captive  Trojan  maid, 

Young  Priam's  sister;  but  he  gave  her  up. 

Recall  how  many  dames,  how  many  maids 

Aforetime  he  has  loved,  this  wandering  swain.  365 

The  Arcadian  maiden  Auge,  while  she  led 

The  choral  dance  of  Pallas,  roused  his  love 

And  suffered  straight  his  passionate  embrace. 

But  from  his  heart  she  quickly  fell  away, 

And  now  retains  no  traces  of  his  love. 

Why  mention  others  ?     The  Thespiades 

Enjoyed  the  passing  love  of  Hercules,  370 

But  are  forgotten.  Soon,  a  wanderer 
.  Upon  Timolus,  he  caressed  the  queen 
)  Of  Lydia,  and,  smitten  by  her  love, 

He  sat  beside  the  whirling  distaff  there, 

His  doughty  fingers  on  the  moistened  thread. 

His  neck  no  longer  bears  the  lion's  spoil; 

But  there  he  sits,  a  languid,  love-sick  slave, 

His  shaggy  locks  with  Phrygian  turban  bound,  375 

And  dripping  with  the  costly  oil  of  myrrh. 

Yes,  everywhere  he  feels  the  fires  of  love, 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


231 


Dciauira: 


Nurse: 


But  always  does  he  glow  with  transient  flame. 
But  lovers  after  many  transient  flames, 
Are  wont  at  last  to  choose  a  single  love. 
And  could  Alcides  choose  instead  of  thee 
A  slave,  the  daughter  of  his  enemy  ?  380 

Deianira:    As  budding  groves  put  on  a  joyous  form 

When  spring's  warm  breezes  clothe  the  naked  boughs; 
But,  when  the  northwind  rages  in  their  stead, 
And  savage  winter  strips  the  leaves  away, 
Thou  seest  naught  but  bare  and  shapeless  trunks: 
So  this  my  beauty,  which  has  traveled  far  385 

Along  the  road  of  life,  has  lost  its  bloom, 
And  gleams  less  brightly  than  in  former  years. 
Behold  that  loveliness — but  Oh,  whate'er 
Was  once  by  many  suitors  sought  in  me, 
Has  vanished  quite;  for  toils  of  motherhood 
Have  stolen  my  beauty,  and  with  speeding  foot 
Advancing  age  has  hurried  it  away.  390 

But,  as  thou  seest,  this  slave  has  not  yet  lost 
Her  glorious  charms.     Her  queenly  robes,  'tis  true, 
Have  yielded  to  the  garb  of  poverty; 
Still,  through  her  very  grief  her  beauty  shines, 
,And  nothing  save  her  kingdom  has  she  lost 
;  By  this  hard  stroke  of  fate.     This  fear  of  her  395 

Doth  vex  my  heart  and  take  away  my  sleep. 
I  once  was  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  world 
The  wife  most  to  be  praised;  and  every  bride 
Longed  for  a  mate  like  mine  with  envious  prayers; 
And  every  soul  that  asked  the  gods  for  aught, 
Took  me  as  type  and  measure  of  her  vows.  400 

What  father  shall  I  ever  find,  O  nurse, 
To  equal  Jove  ?     What  husband  like  to  mine 
In  all  the  world  ?    Though  he,  Eurystheus'  self, 
Beneath  whose  power  my  Hercules  is  placed, 
Should  take  me  for  his  wife,  'twould  not  suffice. 
A  trifling  thing,  to  miss  a  royal  couch;  405 

But  far  she  falls  who  loses  Hercules. 
But  children  often  win  a  husband's  love. 
My  rival's  child  perchance  will  win  him  too. 


Nurse: 
Deianira: 


232  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Nurse:       I  think  thai  slave  is  but  a  gift  for  thee. 

Diianira:   This  fellow  whom  thou  seesl  wandering  410 

.Throughout  our  Grecian  cities,  big  with  fame, 

\A  tawny  lion's  spoils  upon  his  back, 

And  in  his  dreadful  hand  a  massive  dub; 
Who  takes  their  realms  away  from  haughty  kings, 
And  gives  them  to  the  weak;  whose  praise  is  sung 
By  men  oi  every  land  throughout  the  world:  415 

This  man  is  but  a  trifler,  without  thought 
Of  winning  deathless  glory  for  himself. 
He  wanders  through  the  earth,  not  in  the  hope 
That  he  may  rival  Jupiter,  or  go 
With  great  renown  throughout  the  towns  of  Greece; 
His  quest  is  ever  love,  the  maiden's  couch.  ^ 
He  takes  by  force  what  is  refused  to  him;  420 

He  rages  'gainst  the  nations,  seeks  his  brides 
Amidst  the  ruins  of  a  people's  hopes. 
And  this  wild  carnival  of  lustful  crime 
Is  by  the  honored  name,  heroic,  called.  J 
But  now,  illustrious  Oechalia  fell; 
One  sun,  one  day  beheld  it  stand— and  fall. 
And  of  the  strife  the  only  cause  was  love. 
As  often  as  a  father  shall  refuse  425 

To  give  his  daughter  unto  Hercules, 
And  be  the  father  of  his  enemy, 
So  often  need  he  be  in  mortal  fear. 
If  he  is  not  accepted  as  a  son, 
He  smites  in  rage.     Why  then  do  I  preserve 
In  harmless  inactivity  these  hands, 
Until  he  feign  another  fit  of  rage, 
And  stretch  nis  bow  with  deadly  aim  at  me, 
And  slaughter  both  his  wife  and  child  at  once  ?  430 

Thus  'tis  his  wont  to  put  away  his  wives: 
And  such  his  cruel  method  of  divorce.    '" 
But  he  cannot  be  held  the  guilty  one! 
For  he  contrives  to  make  the  world  believe 
["That  Juno  is  the  cause  of  all  his  crimes. 
O  sluggish  passion,  why  inactive  stand  ? 
Anticipate  his  crime,  and  act  at  once 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


23i 


Nurse: 
Deianira 


Nurse: 


440 


While  still  thy  hands  are  burning  for  the  deed.  435 

Nurse:        Wilt  kill  thy  husband  ? 
Deianira:  And  my  rival's  too. 

Nurse:        The  son  of  Jove  ? 

Deianira:  Alcmena's  son  as  well. 

Nurse:        With  the  sword  ? 
Deianira:  The  sword. 

Nurse:  If  not  ? 

Deianira:  With  guile  I'll  slay. 

Nurse:        What  madness  this  ? 

Deianira:  That  which  I  learned  of  him. 

Nurse:        Whom  Juno  could  not  harm  wilt  thou  destroy  ? 
Deianira:    Celestial  anger  only  wretched  makes 

Those  whom  it  touches;  mortal  wrath  destroys. 
Nurse:  Oh,  spare  thy  husband,  wretched  one,  and  fear. 
Deianira:    The  one  who  first  has  learned  the  scorn  of  death, 

Scorns  everything.     'Tis  sweet  to  meet  the  sword. 
Nurse:        Thy  grief  is  all  too  great,  my  foster-child; 

Let  not  his  fault  claim  more  than  equal  hate.  445 

— Why  dost  so  sternly  judge  a  light  offense  ? 

Nay,  suit  thy  grieving  to  thine  injury. 
Deianira:    But  dost  thou  call  a  mistress  light  offense  ? 

)  Of  all  that  feeds  my  grief,  count  this  the  worst. 

And  has  thy  love  for  great  Alcides  fled  ? 

Not  fled,  dear  nurse,  believe  me;  still  it  lies  450 

Securely  fixed  wiiliin  my  inmost  heart. 

But  outraged  love  is  poignant  misery. x 

By  magic  arts  united  to  their  prayers 

Do  wives  full  oft  their  wandering  husbands  bind. 

I  have  myself  in  midst  of  winter's  cold 

Commanded  trees  to  clothe  themselves  in  green, 

The  thunderbolt  to  stop;  I've  roused  the  sea  455 

When  no  wind  blew,  and  calmed  the  swollen  waves; 

The  thirsty  plain  has  opened  at  my  touch 

To  springs  of  water;  rocks  give  way  to  me, 

And  doors  fly  open;  when  I  bid  them  stand 

The  shades  of  hell  obey,  and  talk  with  me; 

The  infernal  dog  is  still  at  my  command;  460 

Midnight  has  seen  the  sun,  midday  the  night. 


»34 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


For  sen,  land,  heaven,  and  ludl  obey  my  will, 
And  nothing  can  withstand  my  potent  charms. 
Then  let  us  bend  him;  charms  will  find  the  way. 

Dcianira:    What  magic  herbs  does  distant  Pontus  yield, 
Or  Pindus  'neath  the  rocks  of  Thcssaly, 
Where  I  may  find  a  charm  to  bend  his  will? 
Though  Luna  leave  the  stars  and  fall  to  earth, 
Obedient  to  thy  magic;  though  the  crops 
In  winter  ripen;  though  the  hurtling  bolt 
Stand  still  at  thy  command;  though  all  the  laws 
Of  nature  be  reversed,  and  stars  shine  out 
Upon  the  noonday  skies — he  would  not  yield. 

Xurse:        But  Love  has  conquered  e'en  the  heavenly  gods. 

Dcianira:    Perhaps  by  one  alone  he  will  himself 

Be  conquered,  and  give  spoils  of  war  to  him, 
And  so  become  Alcides'  latest  task. 
But  by  each  separate  god  of  heaven  I  pray, 
By  this  my  fear:   what  secret  I  disclose 
Keep  hidden  thou  and  close  within  thy  breast. 

Nurse:        What  secret  wouldst  thou  then  so  closely  guard  ? 

Dcianira:    I  mean  no  weapons,  arms,  or  threatening  flames. 

Xurse:        I  can  give  pledge  of  faith,  if  it  be  free 

From  sin;  for  sometimes  faith  itself  is  sin. 

Dcianira:    Lest  someone  hear  my  secret,  look  about; 
In  all  directions  turn  thy  watchful  gaze. 

Nurse:        Behold,  the  place  is  free  from  curious  eyes. 

Dcianira:    Deep  hidden,  far  within  this  royal  pile, 

There  is  a  cave  that  guards  my  secret  well. 
Neither  the  rising  sun  can  reach  the  spot 
With  its  fresh  beams;  nor  can  its  latest  rays, 
WTien  Titan  leads  the  weary  day  to  rest, 
And  plunges  'neath  the  ruddy  ocean's  waves. 
There  lies  a  charm  that  can  restore  to  me 
The  love  of  Hercules.     I'll  tell  thee  all. 
The  giver  of  the  charm  was  Nessus,  he 
Whom  Nephele  to  bold  Ixion  bore, 
WTiere  lofty1  Pindus  towers  to  the  skies, 
And  high  above  the  clouds  cold  Othrys  stands. 

1  Reading,  celsus. 


4°5 


470 


475 


480 


485 


490 


Hercules    Oetaeus  235 


For  when,  compelled  by  dread  Alcides'  club  495 

To  shift  with  ready  ease  from  form  to  form 

Of  beasts,  and,  overcome  in  every  form, 

At  last  bold  Achelous  bowed  his  head 

With  its  one  horn  defiled;  then  Hercules, 

Exulting  in  his  triumph,  claimed  his  "bride 

And  bore  me  off  to  Argos.     Then,  it  chanced,  500 

Evenus'  stream  that  wanders  through  the  plain, 

Its  whirling  waters  bearing  to  the  sea, 

Was  swollen  beyond  its  banks'  with  turbid  flood. 

Here  Nessus,  well  accustomed  to  the  stream, 

Required  a  price  for  bearing  me  across;  505 

And  on  his  back,  where  beast  and  human  join, 

He  took  me,  boldly  stemming  every  wave. 

Now  was  fierce  Nessus  well  across  the  stream, 

And  still  in  "middle  flood  Alcides  fared, 

Breasting  with  mighty  strides  the  eager  waves; 

When  he,  beholding  Hercules  afar,  510 

Cried,  "Thou  shalt  be  my  wife,  my  booty  thou, 

For  Hercules  is  held  within  the  stream;" 

And  clasping  me  was  galloping  away. 

But  now  the  waves  could  not  thwart  Hercules. 
"O  faithless  ferryman,"  he  shouted  out, 
"Though  Ganges  and  the  Ister  join  their  floods,  SJ5 

I  shall  o'ercome  them  both  and  check  thy  flight." 

His  arrow  sped  before  his  words  were  done, 

Transfixing  Nessus  with  a  mortal  wound, 

And  stayed  his  flight.     Then  he,  with  dying  eyes 

Seeking  the  light,  within  his  hand  caught  up  520 

The  flowing2  gore;  and  in  his  hollow  hoof, 

Which  he  with  savage  hand  had  wrenched  away, 

He  poured  and  handed  it  to  me,  and  said: 
"This  blood,  magicians  say,  contains  a  charm, 

Which  can  a  wavering  love  restore;  for  so 

Thessalian  dames  by  Mycale  were  taught,  525 

Who  only,  'midst  all  wonder-working  crones, 

Could  lure  the  moon  from  out  the  starry  skies. 

A  garment  well  anointed  with  this  gore 
■  Reading,  ripis.  '  Reading,  fluenton. 


2l6 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Shalt  thou  present  to  him,"  the  centaur  said, 
"If  e'er  a  hated  rival  steal  thy  couch, 

If  e'er  thy  husband  in  a  fickle  mood 

To  heavenly  Jove  another  daughter  give.  530 

Let  not  the  light  of  day  shine  on  the  (harm, 

But  in  the  thickest  darkness  let  it  lie. 

So  shall  the  blood  its  magic  power  retain." 

So  spake  he;  o'er  his  words  a  silence  fell, 

And  the  sleep  of  death  upon  his  weary  limbs. 

Do  thou,  who  knowest  now  my  secret  plans,  535 

Make  haste  and  bring  this  charm  to  me,  that  so 

Its  force,  imparted  to  a  gleaming  robe, 

May  at  the  touch  dart  through  his  soul,  his  limbs, 

And  through  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones. 
Xurse:        With  speed  will  I  thy  bidding  do,  dear  child. 

And  do  thou  call  upon  the  god  of  love, 

Invincible,  who  with  his  tender  hand  540 

Doth  speed  his  arrows  with  unerring  aim. 
[Exit  Nurse.] 
Deianira    [invoking  Cupid]:  O  wingeYl  boy,  by  earth  and  heaven  feared, 

By  creatures  of  the  sea,  and  him  who  wields 

The  bolts  in  Aetna  forged;  and  dreaded  too 

By  thy  relentless  mother,  queen  of  love: 

Aim  with  unerring  hand  thy  swiftest  dart. 

Not  harmless  be  the  shaft,  but  choose,  I  pray  545 

One  of  thy  keenest  arrows,  which  thy  hand 

Has  never  used;  for  such  must  be  thy  dart 

If  mighty  Hercules  be  forced  to  love. 

Make  firm  thy  hands  and  strongly  bend  thy  bow; 

Now,  now  that  shaft  let  loose  which  once  thou  aim'dst         550 

At  Jove  the  terrible,  what  time  the  god 

Laid  down  his  thunderbolts,  and  as  a  bull 

With  swelling  forehead  clove  the  boisterous  sea, 

And  bore  the  Assyrian  maiden  as  his  prize. 

Now  fill  his  heart  with  love;  let  him  surpass 

All  who  have  ever  felt  thy  passion's  power — 

And  learn  to  love  his  wife.     If  Iole  555 

Has  kindled  flames  of  love  within  his  heart, 

Extinguish  them,  and  let  him  dream  alone 


Hercules    Oe'taeus  237 

Of  me.     Thou  who  hast  often  conquered  Jove, 
The  Thunderer,  and  him  whose  scepter  dark 
Holds  sway  within  the  gloomy  underworld, 
The  king  of  countless  throngs,  the  lord  of  Styx;  560 

Whom  angry  Juno  cannot  quell:  win  thou 
Alone  this  triumph  over  Hercules. 
Nurse  [returning  with  robe  and  charm  ready]:  The  charm  from  its  dark 
hiding-place  is  brought, 
And  that  fair  robe  upon  whose  cunning  web 
Thy  maidens  all  have  wrought  with  wearied  hands. 
Now  bring  the  poisoned  blood  and  let  the  robe  565 

Drink  in  its  magic  power,  while  by  my  prayers 
Will  I  the  charm  augment. 

[Enter  Lichas.] 

But  at  the  word 
The  faithful  Lichas  comes.     Quick!  hide  the  charm, 
Lest  by  his  mouth  our  plot  may  be  revealed. 
Deianira  [to  Lichas]:  O  Lichas,  ever  faithful  to  thy  lord, 

A  name  which  mighty  houses  may  not  boast:  570 

Take  thou  this  garment  woven  by  my  hands, 
While  Hercules  was  wandering  o'er  the  earth, 
c  Or,  spent  with  wine,  was  holding  in  his  arms 
)  The  Lydian  queen,  or  calling  Iole. 
And  yet,  perchance,  I  still  may  turn  his  heart 
To  me  again  by  wifely  service.     Thus 

Have  evil  men  full  often  been  reclaimed.  575 

Before  my  husband  puts  this  tunic  on, 
Bid  him  burn  incense  and  appease  the  gods, 
His  rough  locks  wreathed  with  hoary  poplar  leaves. 
[Lichas  takes  the  robe  and  departs  upon  his  mission.] 
I  will  myself  within  the  palace  go 
And  pray  the  mother  of  relentless  love.  580 

[To  her  Aetolim  attendants.] 
Do  ye,  who  from  my  father's  house  have  come, 
Bewail  the  sad  misfortunes  of  your  queen. 

[Exit.] 
Chorus  of  Aiiolian  women:  We  weep  for  thee,  O  lady  dear, 
And  for  thy  couch  dishonored — we, 
The  comrades  of  thy  earliest  years, 


j;S  The    Tk.\(.  i  nil.  s    op    Seneca 

Weep  and  lament  lliy  falc.  585 

IImw  oftea  have  we  played  with  thee 

In  Acheloiis'  shallow  |m).i|s, 

When  now  the  swollen  floods  of  spring 

Had  passed  away,  and  gently  now, 

Willi  graceful  sweep,  the  river  ran; 

When  mad  Lycormas  eeased  to  roll  590 

His  headlong  waters  on. 

I  low  oft  have  we,  a  choral  band, 

To  Pallas'  altars  gone  with  thee; 

How  oil  in  Theban  baskets  borne  595 

The  sacred  Bacchic  mysteries, 

When  now  the  wintry  stars  have  fled, 

When  each  third  summer  calls  the  sun ; 

And  when,  the  sacred  rites  complete 

To  Ceres,  queen  of  golden  grain, 

Eleusin  hides  her  worshipers 

Within  her  mystic  cave. 
\  Now  too,  whatever^ fate  thou  fear'st,  600 

Accept  us  as  thy  trusted  friends; 

For  rare  is  such  fidelity 
YWhen  better  fortune  fails. 

O  thou,  who  wield'st  the  scepter's  power, 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  though  eagerly 

The  people  throng  within  thy  courts,  605 

And  press  for  entrance  at  thy  doors; 

And  though  the  crowds  press  thick  about 

Wliere'er  thou  tak'st  thy  way:  be  sure 

That  in  so  many  seeming  friends, 

Scarce  one  is  true. 

Erinys  keeps  the  gilded  gate; 

And  when  the  great  doors  swing  apart,  610 

Then  cunning  treachery  creeps  in 

And  fraud,  and  murderous  dagger  points. 

Whene'er  thou  think'st  to  walk  abroad, 

Base  envy  as  thy  comrade  goes. 

As  often  as  the  morning  dawns 

Be  sure  a  king  from  fear  of  death  615 

Has  been  delivered.     Few  there  are 


Hercules    Oetaeus  239 

Who  love  the  king,  and  not  his  power. 
For  'tis  the  glitter  of  the  throne 
That  fires  most  hearts  to  loyally. 
Now  one  is  eager  next  the  king 
To  walk  before  the  gaze  of  men, 
And  so  gain  luster  for  himself; 

For  greed  of  glory  burns  his  heart.  620 

Another  from  the  royal  stores 
Seeks  to  supply  his  own  desires; 
And  yet  not  all  the  precious  sands 
(3f  Hister's  streams  could  satisfy, 
'Nor  Lydia  sate  his  thirst  for  gold; 
Nor  that  far  land  where  Zephyr  blows, 
Which  looks  in  wonder  on  the  gleam  625 

Of  Tagus'  golden  sands. 
Were  all  the  wealth  of  Hebrus  his; 
If  rich  Hydaspes  were  his  own; 
If  through  his  fields,  with  all  its  stream, 
He  saw  the  Ganges  flowing:  still  630 

For  greed,  base  greed  'twould  not  suffice. 
One  honors  kings  and  courts  of  kings, 
Not  that  his  careful  husbandmen 
Forever  stooping  o'er  the  plow 
May  never  cease  their  toil  for  him; 

Or  that  his  peasantry  may  till  635 

His  thousand  fields:  but  wealth  alone, 
Which  he  may  hoard  away,  he  seeks. 
Another  worships  kings,  that  so 
All  other  men  he  may  oppress, 
May  ruin  many,  none  assist; 
Ami  with  this  sole  aim  covets  power, 
That  he  may  use  it  ill. 

How  few  live  out  their  fated  span!  640 

Whom  yesternight  saw  radiant 
With  joy,  the  newborn  day  beholds 
In  wretched  case.     How  rare  it  is 
To  find  old  age  and  happin- 
^Combined.     More  soft  than  Tyrian  couch, 
|The  greensward  soothes  to  fearless  sleep;  645 


240  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Rut  gilded  ceilings  break  our  rest, 

And  sleepless  through  the  night  we  lie 

(  »n  beds  of  luxury. 

Oh,  should  the  rich  lay  bare  tlicir  hearts, 
-  What  fears  which  lofty  fortune  breeds 

Would  be  revealed!    The  Bruttian  coast  650 

When  Corns  lashes  up  the  sea 
(Is  calmer  far.     Not  so  the  poor: 

His  heart  is  ever  full  of  peace. 

From  shallow  beechen  cups  he  drinks, 

But  not  with  trembling  hands;  his  food 

Is  cheap  and  common,  but  he  sees  655 

No  naked  sword  above  his  head. 

'Tis  in  the  cup  of  gold  alone 

That  blood  is  mingled  with  the  wine. 

The  poor  man's  wife  no  necklace  wrought 

Of  costly  pearls,  the  red  sea's  gift,  660 

May  wear;  no  gems  from  eastern  shores 

Weigh  down  her  ears;  nor  does  she  wear 
/Soft  scarlet  wools  in  Tyrian  dye 

Twice  dipped;  not  hers  with  Lydian  art 

To  'broider  costly  silks  whose  threads  665 

The  Serians  under  sunlit  skies 

From  orient  treetops  gather;  she 

With  common  herbs  must  dye  the  web 

Which  she  with  unskilled  hands  has  wov'n: 

But  still  her  husband  is  her  own,   ,  670 

Her  couch  by  rivals  undisturbed.  * 

But  favored  brides,  whose  wedding  day 

The  thronging  people  celebrate, 
^Fate,  with  her  cruel  torch  pursues. 

The  poor  no  happiness  can  know 

Unless  he  sees  the  fortunate 

From  their  high  station  fallen. 

Whoever  shuns  the  middle  course  675 

Can  never  in  safe  pathways  go. 

When  once  bold  Phaethon  essayed 

Within  his  father's  car  to  stand 

And  give  the  day,  and  did  not  fare 


Hercules    Oetaeus  241 

Along  the  accustomed  track,  but  sought 

With  wandering  wheels  to  make  his  way  680 

With  Phoebus'  torch  'midst  unknown  stars — 

Himself  he  ruined  and  the  earth 

In  one  destruction.     Daedalus 

The  middle  course  of  heaven  pursued, 

And  so  to  peaceful  shores  attained 

And  gave  no  sea  its  name.     His  son,  685 

Young  Icarus,  dared  rival  birds 

In  flight,  despised  his  father's  wings, 
I  And  soared  high  up  into  the  realm 
/Of  Phoebus'  rays:  headlong  he  fell 

And  to  an  unknown  sea  his  name 

He  gave.     So  are  great  fortunes  joined  690 

To  mighty  ills. 

Let  others  then  as  fortunate 

And  great  be  hailed;  I  wish  no  share 

Of  popular  renown.     My  boat 

Is  frail  and  needs  must  hug  the  shore. 

And  let  no  strong  wind  force  my  bark  695 

I    r  out  to  sea;  for  fortune  spares 

Safe-harbored  boats,  but  seeks  the  ships 

In  mid  sea  proudly  sailing  on, 

Their  topsails  in  the  clouds. 

But  why  with  pallid  face,  in  fear,  700 

Like  some  Bacchante  smitten  sore 

With  madness,  comes  our  princess  forth  ? 

What  new  reverse  of  fortune's  wheel 

Has  come  to  vex  thy  tortured  soul  ? 
For  though  thou  speakest  ne'er  a  word,  poor  queen, 
Whate'er  thou  hidest,  in  thy  face  is  seen. 

ACT  III 

Deianira  [hurrying  distractedly  out  of  the  palace]:    A  nameless  terror    705 
fills  my  stricken  limbs, 
My  hair  stands  up  in  horror,  and  my  soul, 
But  now  so  passion  tossed,  is  dumb  with  fear; 
My  heart  beats  wildly,  and  my  liver  throbs 


Tim     Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Willi  pulsing  veins.     As  wlu'ii  the  storm-tossed  sea  710 

Still  heaves  and  swells,  although  the  skies  are  clear 

And  winds  have  died  away;  so  is  my  mind 

Still  tossed  and  restless,  though  my  fear  is  stayed. 

When  once  the  fortunate  begin  to  feel 

The  wntth  of  god,  their  sorrows  never  cease. 

For  so  does  fortune  ever  end  in  woe. 
Nurse:         What  new  distress,  poor  soul,  has  come  to  thee?  715 

DeUmira:     Hut  now,  when  I  had  sent  away  the  robe 

With  Xessus'  poisoned  blood  besmeared,  and  I, 

With  sad  forebodings,  to  my  chamber  went, 

Some  nameless  fear  oppressed  my  anxious  heart, 
— •  A  fear  of  treachery.     I  thought  to  prove 

The  charm.     Fierce  Nessus,  I  bethought  me  then, 

Had  bidden  me  to  keep  the  blood  from  flame;  720 

And  this  advice  itself  foreboded  fraud. 

It  chanced  the  sun  was  shining,  bright  and  warm, 

Undimmed  by  clouds.     As  I  recall  it  now, 

My  fear  scarce  suffers  me  to  tell  the  tale. 

'Into  the  blazing  radiance  of  the  sun  725 

I  cast  the  blood-stained  remnant  of  the  cloth 

With  which  the  fatal  garment  had  been  smeared. 

The  thing  writhed  horribly,  and  burst  aflame 
,k  As  soon  as  Phoebus  warmed  it  with  his  rays. 

Oh,  'tis  a  dreadful  portent  that  I  tell ! 

As  when  the  snows  on  Mimas'  sparkling  sides 

Are  melted  by  the  genial  breath  of  spring;  730 

As  on  Leucadia's  crags  the  heaving  waves 

Are  dashed  and  break  in  foam  upon  the  beach; 

Or  as  the  incense  on  the  holy  shrines 

Is  melted  by  the  warming  altar  fires: 

So  did  the  woolen  fragment  melt  away.  735 

And  while  in  wonder  and  amaze  I  looked, 

The  object  of  my  wonder  disappeared. 

Nay,  e'en  the  ground  itself  began  to  foam, 

And  what  the  poison  touched  to  shrink  away. 
[Hyllus  is  seen  approaching.] 

But  hither  comes  my  son  with  face  of  fear,  740 

1  Lines  725-28  follow  the  text  of  Schroeder. 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


243 


Hyllus: 


Deianira, 

Hyllus: 

Deianira, 
IIvllus: 


Deianira 
Hyllus: 


Deianira 
Hyllus: 


And  hurrying  feet. 

[To  Hyllus.] 
What  tidings  dost  thou  bear? 

Oh,  speed  thee,  mother,  to  whatever  place 

On  land  or  sea,  among  the  stars  of  heaven, 

Or  in  the  depths  of  hell,  can  keep  thee  safe 

Beyond  the  deadly  reach  of  Hercules. 

Some  great  disaster  doth  my  mind  presage.  745 

Hie  thee  to  Juno's  shrine,  the  victor's  realm; 

This  refuge  waits  thee  'midst  the  loss  of  all. 

Tell  what  disaster  hath  o'erta'en  me  now. 

That  glory  and  sole  bulwark  of  the  world, 
tVVhom  in  the  place  of  Jove  the^  fates  had  given  750 

To  bless  the  earth,  O  mother,  is  no  more. 

A  strange  infection  wastes  Alcides'  limbs; 

And  he  who  conquered  every  form  of  beast, 

He,  he,  the  victor  is  o'ercome  with  woe. 

What  wouldst  thou  further  hear? 

All  wretched  souls 

Are  e'er  in  haste  to  know  their  miseries. 

Come,  tell,  what  present  fate  o'erhangs  our  house?  755 

>  O  wretched,  wretched  house!     Now,  now  indeed, 

Am  I  a  widow,  exiled,  fate-o'ercome. 

Not  thou  alone  dost  weep  for  Hercules; 

For  in  his  fall  the  universe  laments. 

Think  not  on  private  griefs;  the  human  race 

Lifts  up  the  voice  of  mourning.     All  the  world  760 

Is  grieving  with  the  selfsame  grief  thou  feel'st. 

Thou  shar'st  thy  misery  with  every  land. 

Thou  hast,  indeed,  forestalled  their  grief,  poor  soul ; 

Thou  first,  but  not  alone,  dost  weep  for  him. 
■    Yet  tell  me,  tell,  I  pray,  how  near  to  death  765 

Lies  my  Alcides  now. 

lAaih  flees  his  grasp, 
'  Death  whom  he  conquered  once  in  its  own  realm; 

Nor  will  the  fates  permit  so  great  a  crime. 

Perchance  dread  Clotho  from  her  trembling  hand 

Has  thrown  aside  her  distaff,  and  in  fear 

Refuses  to  complete  Alcides'  fate.  770 


244  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

O  day,  O  awful  dayl  and  must  this  be 
The  i'mal  day  for  mighty  Hercules? 

Deianira:    To  death  and  the  world  of  shades,  to  that  <lark  realm, 
Dosl  say  thai  he  has  gone  already?    Why, 
Oh,  why  may  1  not  be  the  first  to  go? 

But  tell  me  truly,  if  he  still  doth  live. 
Ilyllus:        Euboea  stands  with  high  uplifted  head,  775 

On  every  side  lashed  by  the  tossing  waves. 
Here  high  Caphereus  faces  Phrixus'  sea, 
And  here  rough  Auster  blows.     But  on  the  side 
Which  feels  the  blast  of  snowy  Aquilo, 
Euripus  restless  leads  his  wandering  waves; 
Seven  times  his  heaving  tides  he  lifts  on  high,  780 

Seven  limes  they  sink  again,  before  the  sun 
His  weary  horses  plunges  in  the  sea. 
Here  on  a  lofty  cliff,  'midst  drifting  clouds, 
An  ancient  temple  of  Cenaean  Jove 
Gleams  far  and  wide.     When  at  the  altars  stood 
The  votive  herd,  and  all  the  grove  was  full 
Of  hollow  bellowings  of  the  gilded  bulls;  785 

Then  Hercules  put  off  his  lion's  skin 
With  gore  besmeared,  his  heavy  club  laid  down, 
And  freed  his  shoulders  of  the  quiver's  weight. 
Then,  gleaming  brightly  in  the  robe  thou  gav'st, 
His  shaggy  locks  with  hoary  poplar  wreathed, 
He  lit  the  altar  fires,  and  prayed:     "O  Jove,  790 

Not  falsely  called  my  father,  take  these  gifts 
And  let  the  sacred  fire  blaze  brightly  up 
With  copious  incense,  which  the  Arab  rich 
From  Saba's  trees  in  worship  of  the  sun 
Collects.     All  monsters  of  the  earth,  the  sea, 
The  sky  have  been  subdued  at  last,  and  I, 
As  victor  over  all,  am  home  returned.  795 

Lay  down  thy  thunderbolt."     So  prayed  he  then. 
But  even  as  he  prayed  a  heavy  groan 
Fell  from  his  lips,  and  he  was  horror  struck 
And  mute  awhile.     And  then  with  dreadful  cries 
He  filled  the  air.     As  when  a  votive  bull 
Feels  in  his  wounded  neck  the  deep-driven  ax, 


Hercules    Oetaeus  245 

And  flees  away,  retaining  still  the  steel, 

And  fills  with  loud  uproar  the  spacious  hall;  800 

Or  as  the  thunder  rumbles  round  the  sky: 

So  did  Alcides  smite  the  very  stars 

And  sea  writh  his  loud  roarings.     Chalcis  heard, 

The  Cyclades  re-echoed  with  the  sound, 

Caphereus'  rocky  crags  and  all  the  grove 

Resounded  with  the  groans  of  Hercules.  805 

We  saw  him  weep.     The  common  people  deemed 

(His  former  madness  had  come  back  to  him. 

His  servants  fled  away  in  fear.     But  he, 

With  burning  gaze,  seeks  one  among  them  all, 

Ill-fated  Lichas,  who,  with  trembling  hands  810 

Upon  the  altar,  even  then  forestalled 

Through  deadly  fear  the  bitter  pangs  of  death, 

And  so  left  meager  food  for  punishment. 

Then  did  Alcides  grasp  the  quivering  corpse 

And  cried:  "By  such  a  hand  as  this,  ye  fates, 

Shall  it  be  said  that  I  was  overcome  ? 

Has  Lichas  conquered  Hercules  ?     See  then 

Another  slaughter:  Hercules  in  turn  815 

Slays  Lichas.     Be  my  noble  deeds  by  this 

Dishonored;  let  this  be  my  crowning  task." 

He  spake,  and  high  in  air  the  wretched  boy 

Was  hurled,  the  very  heavens  with  his  gore 

Besprinkling.     So  the  Getan  arrow  flies, 

Far  leaping  from  the  bowman's  hand;  so  flies 

The  Cretan  dart,  but  far  within  the  mark.  820 

His  head  against  the  jagged  rocks  is  dashed, 

His  headless  body  falls  into  the  sea, 
'Death1  claiming  both.     "But  hold,"  Alcides  said, 
"No  madness  steals  my  reason  as  of  yore; 

This  is  an  evil  greater  far  than  rage 

Of  madness;  'gainst  myself  alone  I  turn."  825 

He  stays  him  not  to  tell  his  <  mise  <>f  woe, 

But  rages  wildly,  tearing  at  his  flesh, 

His  huge  limbs  rending  with  his  savage  hands. 

He  strove  to  tear  away  the  fatal  r> 

1  Reading,  /units. 


246  The    Trau  dies    0  r    S  e  n  e  i   \ 

Hut  this  alone  of  all  his  mighty  deeds 
Alcides  could  not  do.    Yet  striving  still 

To  tear  the  garment  off,  he  tore  the  flesh. 

The  tobe  Seemed  part  of  that  gigantic  form,  830 

yea,  pail  and  parcel  of  the  flesh  itself. 

The  cause  of  this  dire  suffering  is  hid, 

Hut  yet  there  is  a  cause.     His  pain  at  length 
Unable  to  endure,  prone  on  the  earth 
He  grovels;  now  for  cooling  water  calls. 

Hut  water  has  no  power  to  soothe  his  pain.  835 

He  seeks  the  shore  and  plunges  in  the  sea, 
The  while  his  servant's  hands  direct  his  steps. 
Oh,  bitter  lot,  that  mighty  Hercules 
Should  come  to  be  the  mate  of  common  men ! 
And  now  a  vessel  from  Euboea's  shore 
Bears  off  the  ponderous  bulk  of  Hercules, 

iThe  gentle  southwind  wafting  it  along.  840 

His  spirit  from  his  mighty  frame  has  fled, 
And  o'er  his  eyes  have  fall'n  the  shades  of  night. 
Dcianira:    Why  dost  thou  hesitate  ?  why  stand  amazed, 
O  soul,  that  thus  at  last  the  deed  is  done?1 
But  Jove  demands  again  his  son  of  thee; 
Juno,  her  rival;  yea,  to  all  the  world 
Must  he  be  given  back.     Vain  such  appeal. 
Make  then  what  reparation2  yet  thou  mayst: 
Through  this  my  guilty  body  let  the  sword  845 

Be  driven.     Thus,  thus,  'tis  well  that  it  be  done. 
But  can  this  puny  hand  of  mine  atone 
For  crime  so  great  ?     O  sire  of  Hercules, 
Destroy  me  with  thy  hurtling  thunderbolt, 
Thy  guilty  daughter.     With  no  common  dart 
Arm  thine  avenging  hand;  but  use  that  shaft 
With  which,  had  Hercules  ne'er  sprung  from  thee,  850 

Thou  wouldst  have  scorched  the  hydra.     As  a  pest 
Unprecedented  smite  me,  as  a  scourge 
Far  worse  to  bear  than  any  stepdame's  wrath. 
Such  bolt  as  once  at  wandering  Phaethon 
Thou  hurledst,  aim  at  me.     For  I  myself 

1  Reading,  quid  stupes  /actum  scclus  ?  *  Reading,  reddi. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  247 

Have  ruined  all  mankind  in  Hercules.  855 

But  why  demand  a  weapon  of  the  gods  ? 

For  'tis  her  shame  that  great  Alcides'  wife 

Should  pray  for  death.     Let  prayers  give  way  to  deeds,  j 

And  from  myself  let  me  demand  my  death. 

Take  then  the  sword  tfl  fta'STe.     Hut  wnv  the  sword  ? 

Whate'er  can  work  my  death  is  swyid  enough. 

From  some  heaven -piercing  cliff  I'll  cast  me  down.  860 

Yea,  let  our  neighboring  Oeta  be  my  choice, 

Whose  top  is  first  to  greet  the  newborn  day. 

From  its  high  peak  Fll  hurl  me  down  to  death. 

May  I  be  rent  asunder  on  its  crags, 

And  every  rock  demand  some  part  of  me; 

Let  sharp  projections  pierce  my  mangled  hands, 

And  all  the  rugged  mountainside  be  red  865 

With  blood.     One.  death  is  not  enough,  'tis  true; 

But  still  its  agony  can  be  prolonged. 

O  hesitating  soul,  thou  canst  not  choose 

What  form  of  death  to  die.     Oh,  that  the  sword 

Of  Hercules  within  my  chamber  hung! 

How  fitting  'twere  by  such  a  sword  to  die! 

But  is't  enough  that  by  one  hand  I  fall  ?  870 

Assemble,  all  ye  nations  of  the  world, 

And  hurl  upon  me  rocks  and  blazing  brands; 

Let  no  hand  shirk  its  task  of  punishment, 

For  your  avenger  have  I  done  to  death. 

Now  with  impunity  shall  cruel  kings 

Their  scepters  wield;  and  monstrous  ills  shall  rise  875 

With  none  to  let;  again  shall  shrines  be  sought, 

Where  worshiper  and  victim  are  alike 

In  human  form.     A  broad  highway  for  crime 

Have  I  prepared;  and,  by  removing  him 

Who  was  their  bulwark,  have  exposed  mankind 

To  every  form  of  monstrous  man  and  beast 

And  savage  god.     Why  dost  thou  cease  thy  work,  880 

O  wife  of  thundering  Jove  ?     Why  dost  thou  not, 

In  imitation  of  thy  brother,  snatch 

from  his  own  hand  the  fiery  thunderbolt, 

And  slay  me  here  thyself?     For  thou  hast  lost 


»48 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Ilyllus: 


Deianira. 

Ilyllus: 
I  hi, intra 
HyUus: 

Deianira 

Ilyllus: 

Deianira 

Hyllus: 

Deianira. 

Ilyllus: 

Deianira 

Ilyllus: 

Deianira 

Hyllus: 

Deianira 

Hyllus: 


Deianira: 
Hyllus: 


Deianira, 


('.rial  praise  and  mighty  triumph  by  my  act: 
I  have  forestalled  thee,  Juno,  in  the  death 
Of  this  thy  rival. 

Wouldst  to  ruin  doom 
Thy  house  already  tottering?    This  crime, 
Whate'er  it  is,  is  all  from  error  sprung.  885 

He  is  not  guilty  who  unwilling  sins.  J 
Whoe'er  ignores  his  fate  and  spares  himself, 
Deservedly  has  erred,  deserves  to  die.* 
He  must  be  guilty  who  desires  to  die. 

Death,  only,  makes  the  erring  innocent. J  890 

Fleeing  the  sun — 

The  sun  himself  flees  me. 
Wouldst  leave  thy  life? 

A  wretched  life  indeed; 
I  long  to  go  where  Hercules  has  gone. 
He  still  survives,  and  breathes  the  air  of  heaven. 
Alcides  died  when  first  he  was  o'ercome. 
!  Wilt  leave  thy  son  behind?  forestall  thyfateS-?  895 

She  whom  her  own  son  buries  has  lived  long. 
Follow  thy  husband. 

Chaste  wives  go  before. 
Who  dooms  himself  to  death  confesses  sin. 
No  sinner  seeks  to  shirk  his  punishment. 

The  life  of  many  a  man  has  been  restored  900 

Whose  guilt  in  judgment  not  in  action  lay. 
Who  blames  the  lot  by  ^te.assigned  to  him  ? 
He  blames  it  to  whom  Catenas  been  unkind. 
But  Hercules  himself  killed  Megara, 

And  by  his  raging  hands  with  deadly  darts  905 

Transfixed  his  sons.     Still,  though  a  parricide, 
Thrice  guilty,  he  forgave  himself  the  deed, 
Blaming  his  madness.     In  Cinyphian  waves 
In  Libya's  land  he  washed  his  sin  away, 
And  cleansed  his  hands.     Then  why,  poor  soul,  shouldst 

thou 
So  hastily  condemn  thine  own  misdeeds  ? 
The  fact  that  I  have  ruined  Hercules  910 

Condemns  my  deeds.     I  welcome  punishment. 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


249 


Hyllus:       If  I  know  Hercules,  he  soon  will  come 

Victorious  over  all  his  deadly  woe; 

And  agony,  o'ercome,  will  yield  to  him. 
Deianira:    The  hydra's  venom  preys  upon  his  frame; 

A  boundless  pestilence  consumes  his  limbs.  915 

Hyllus:       Think'st  thou  the  poison  of  that  serpent,  slain, 

Cannot  be  overcome  by  that  brave  man 

Who  met  the  living  foe  and  conquered  it  ? 

He  slew  the  hydra,  and  victorious  stood, 

Though  in  his  flesh  the  poisonous  fangs  were  fixed, 

And  o'er  his  limbs  the  deadly  venom  flowed.  020 

Shall  he,  who  overcame  dread  Nessus'  self, 

By  this  same  Nessus'  blood  be  overcome  ? 
Deianira:^  'Tis  vain  to  stay  one  who  is  bent  on  death. 

It  is  my  will  at  once  to  flee  the  light. 

Who  dies  with  Hercules  has  lived  enough. 
Xiirse:        Now  by  these  hoary  locks,  as  suppliant,  925 

And  by  these  breasts  which  suckled  thee,  I  beg: 

Abate  thy  wounded  heart's  wild  threatenings, 
I  Give  o'er  thy  dread  resolve  for  cruel  death. 
Deianira:    Whoe'er  persuades  the  wretched  not  to  die 

lis  cruel.     Death  is  sometimes  punishment,  930 

I  But  oft  a  boon,  and  brings  forgiveness  oft. 
Nurse:        Restrain  at  least  thy  hand,  unhappy  child, 

That  he  may  know  the  deed  was  born  of  fraud, 

And  was  not  purposed  by  his  wife's  design. 
Deianira:    I'll  plead  my  cause  before  the  bar  of  hell, 

Whose  gods,  I  think,  will  free  me  from  my  guilt, 

Though  I  am  self-condemned;  these  guilty  hands  935 

Will  Pluto  cleanse  for  me.     Then,  on  thy  banks, 

O  Lethe,  with  my  memory  clean  I'll  stand, 

A  grieving  shade,  awaiting  him  I  love. 

But  thou,  who  rulest  o'er  the  world  of  gloom, 

Prepare  some  toil  for  me,  some  dreadful  toil; 

For  this  my  fault  outweighs  all  other  sins 

That  heart  of  man  has  ever  dared  to  do.  ^ 

Nay,  Juno's  self  was  never  bold  enough  940 

To  rob  the  grieving  world  of  Hercules. 

Let  Sisyphus  from  his  hard  labor  cease, 


250  Tim     Tragedies    or    Seneca 

And  let  his  stone  upon  my  shoulders  press; 

Let  vagrant  waves  Bee  from  my  eager  lipsy 

And  that  elusive  water  mock  my  thirst. 

Upon  thy  winding  spokes  have  I  deserved  945 

To  be  stretched  out,  O  king  of  Thessaly. 

Let  greedy  vultures  feed  upon  my  flesh. 

One  from  the  tale  of  the  Danaldes 

Is  lacking'  yet;  let  me  the  number  fill. 

Ve  shades,  make  room  for  me;  O  Colchian  wife, 

Receive  me  as  thy  comrade  there  below7.  950 

My  deed  is  worse,  far  worse  than  both  thy  crimes, 

Though  thou  as  mother  and  as  sister,  too, 

I  last  sinned.     Thou  also,  cruel  queen  of  Thrace, 

Take  me  as  comrade  of  thy  crimes.     And  thou, 

Althaea,  take  thy  daughter,  for  indeed 

Thou  shalt  discern  in  me  thy  daughter  true. 

And  yet  not  one  of  you  has  ever  done  955 

Such  deed  as  mine.     O  all  ye  faithful  wives, 

Who  have  your  seats  within  the  sacred  groves, 

Expel  me  from  Elysium's  blessed  fields. 

But  faithless  wives,  who  with  their  husbands'  blood 

Have  stained  their  hands,  wrho  have  forgotten  quite 

Their  marriage  vows  and  stood  with  naked  sword  960 

Like  Belus'  bloody  daughters,  they  will  know 

My  deeds  for  theirs  and  praise  them  as  their  own. 

To  such  a  company  of  wives  'tis  meet 

That  I  betake  myself;  but  even  they 

Will  shun  such  dire  companionship  as  mine. 

O  husband,  strong,  invincible,  believe 

My  soul  is  innocent,  although  my  hands 

Are  criminal.     O  mind  too  credulous!  965 

0  Nessus,  false  and  skilled  in  bestial  guile ! 
Striving  my  hated  rival  to  remove, 

1  have  destroyed  myself.     O  beaming  sun, 
And  thou,  O  life,  that  by  thy  coaxing  arts 
Dost  strive  to  hold  the  wretched  in  the  light, 
Begone!  for  every  day  is  vile  to  me 

That  shineth  not  upon  my  Hercules.  970 

■  Reading,  vacat. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  251 

Oh,  let  me  bear,  myself,  thy  sufferings 

And  give  my  life  for  thee.     Or  shall  1  wait 

And  keep  myself  for  death  at  thy  right  hand  ? 

Hast  still  some  strength  in  thee,  and  can  thy  hands 

Still  bend  the  bow  and  speed  the  fatal  shaft  ? 

Or  do  thy  weapons  lie  unused,  thy  bow  975 

No  more  obedient  to  thy  nerveless  hand  ? 

But  if,  perchance,  thou  still  art  strong  to  slay, 

Undaunted  husband,  I  await  thy  hand; 

Yea,  for  this  cause  will  I  postpone  my  death. 

As  thou  didst  Lichas  crush,  though  innocent, 

Crush  me,  to  other  cities  scatter  me, 

Yea,  hurl  me  to  a  land  to  thee  unknown.  980 

Destroy  me  as  thou  didst  the  Arcadian  boar, 

And  every  monster  that  resisted1  thee. 

But  Oh,  from  them,  my  husband,  thou  didst  come 

Victorious  and  safe. 
Ilyllus:  Give  o'er,  I  pray, 

\My  mother;  cease  to  blame  thy  guiltless  Jates. 

Thy  deed  was  but  an  error,  not  a  fault. 
Dciauira:    My  son,  if  thou  wouldst  truly  filial  be, 

Come,  slay  thy  mother.     Why  with  trembling  hand  985 

Dost  thou  stand  there  ?     Why  turn  away  thy  face  ? 

Such  crime  as  this  is  truest  piety. 

Still  dost  thou  lack  incentive  for  the  deed  ? 

Behold,  this  hand  took  Hercules  from  thee, 

Took  that  great  sire  through  whom  thou  dost  derive 

Thy  blood  from  thundering  Jove.     I've  stolen  from  thee 

A  greater  glory  than  the  life  I  gave  990 

At  birth.     If  thou  art  all  unskilled  in  crime, 

Learn  from  thy  mother;  wouldst  thou  thrust  the  sword 

Into  my  neck,  or  sheath  it  in  my  womb, 

I'll  make  thy  soul  courageous  for  the  deed. 

Thou  wilt  not  be  the  doer  of  this  crime; 

For  though  'tis  by  thy  hand  that  I  shall  fall,  995 

'Twill  be  my  will.     O  son  of  Hercules, 

Art  thou  afraid  ?     Wilt  thou  not  be  like  him, 

Perform  thy  bidden  tasks,  the  monsters  slay  ? 

1  Reading,  rcslilil. 


252  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Prepare  thy  dauntless  hand.     Behold  my  breast, 

So  full  of  cares,  lies  open  to  thy  stroke.  1000 

Smite:  1  forgive  the  deed;  the  very  fiends, 

The  dread  Eumenides,  will  spare  thy  hand. 

But  hark!    I  hear  their  dreadful  scourges  sound. 

Sir!      Who  is  that  who  coils  her  snaky  locks, 

And  at  her  ugly  temples  brandishes 

Two  deadly1  darts?    Why  dost  thou  follow  me,  1005 

0  dire  Megaera,  with  thy  blazing  brand  ? 

Dost  thou  seek  penalty  for  Hercules? 

1  will  discharge  it.    O  thou  dreadful  one, 
Already  have  the  arbiters  of  hell 

Passed  judgment  on  me  ?     Lo,  I  see  the  doors 
Of  that  sad  prison-house  unfold  for  me. 
Who  is  that  ancient  man  who  on  his  back, 
Worn  with  the  toil,  the  stone's  huge  burden  heaves  ?  1010 

And  even  as  I  look  the  conquered  stone 
Rolls  back  again.     Who  on  the  whirling  wheel 
Is  racked?     And  see!     There  stands  Tisiphone, 
With  ghastly,  cruel  face;  she  seeks  revenge. 
Oh,  spare  thy  scourge,  Megaera,  spare,  I  pray, 
Thy  Stygian  brands.     'Twas  love  that  prompted  me.  1015 

But  what  is  this  ?     The  earth  is  tottering, 
The  palace  roof  is  crashing  to  its  fall. 
Whence  comes  that  threatening  throng  ?     Against  me  comes 
The  whole  world  rushing;  see,  on  every  side 
The  nations  gnash  at  me,  demanding  back 
Their  savior.     O  ye  cities,  spare,  I  pray.  1020 

Oh,  whither  shall  I  hide  me  from  their  rage  ? 
Death  is  the  only  haven  left  to  me. 
By  gleaming  Phoebus'  fiery  disk  I  swear, 
By  all  the  gods  of  heaven:  I  go  to  death, 
But  leave  Alcides  still  upon  the  earth. 
[She  rushes  from  the  scene.] 
Hyllus:    (  Ah  me,  in  mood  of  frenzy  has  she  fled. 

My  mother's  part  in  this  sad  tragedy  1025 

Is  self-assigned;  she  is  resolved  to  die. 

My  part  remains  to  thwart  her  dread  resolve. 

'  ReadingVa/raJ. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  253 


0  wretched  piety!    O  filial  love! 

If  now  my  mother's  death  I  should  prevent, 

1  wrong  my  father;  if  I  let  her  die, 

/  'Gainst  her  I  sin.     Crime  stands  on  either  hand; 

Yet  must  I  check  her  and  true  crime  withstand.  1030 


Chorus:  The  sacred  singer's  wort!  was  true 

Which  once  on  Thracian  Rhodope, 
Orpheus,  the  heavenly  Muse's  son, 
Sang  to  his  lute  Pierian: 

That  naught  for  endless  life  is  made.  1035 

At  his  sweet  strains  the  rushing  stream 
Its  uproar  stilled,  and  all  its  waves 
Paused  in  forgetfulness  of  flight; 

And  while  the  waters  stayed  to  hear,  1040 

The  tribes  far  down  the  Hebrus'  stream 
Deemed  that  their  river  was  no  more. 
All  winged  creatures  of  the  wood 
And  e'en  the  woods  themselves  came  near 
To  listen;  or,  if  far  on  high 

Some  bird  was  wheeling  through  the  air,  1045 

To  that  sweet  music  swift  he  fell 
On  drooping  wings.     The  mountains  came: 
Rough  Athos  with  its  Centaur  herd, 
And  Rhodope,  its  drifted  snows 

Loosed  by  the  magic  of  that  song,  1050 

Stood  by  to  hear.     The  Dryads  left 
The  shelter  of  their  oaken  trunks 
And  gathered  round  the  tuneful  bard. 
The  beasts  came,  too,  and  with  them  came  1055 

Their  lairs;  hard  by  the  fearless  flocks 
The  tawny  Afric  lion  crouched; 
The  timid  does  feared  not  the  wolves; 
And  serpents  crawled  forth  to  the  light, 
Their  venom  quite  forgot.  1060 

When  through  the  doors  of  Taenara 
He  made  his  way  to  the  silent  land, 
Sounding  his  mournful  lyre  the  while, 
The  glooms  of  Tartara  were  filled 


i 


254  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

With  his  sad  song;  and  the  sullen  gods 

<  u  Erebus  were  moved  to  tears.  ,         1065 

He  feared  no!  the  |hk>I  of  the  Stygian  stream 

By  whose  dread  waves  the  heavenly  gods 

Make  oath  unbreakable. 

The  whirling  tim  of  the  restless  wheel 
Stood  still,  its  breathless  speed  at  rest.  1070 

The  immortal  liver  of  Tityos 
Grew,  undevoured,  while  at  the  song 
The  spellbound  birds  forgot  their  greed. 
Thou,  too,  didst  hear,  O  boatman  grim, 
And  thy  bark  that  plies  the  infernal  stream 
With  oars  all  motionless  came  on. 

Then  first  the  hoary  Phrygian  1075 

Forgot  his  thirst,  although  no  more 
The  mocking  waters  fled  his  lips 
But  stood  enchanted;  now  no  more 
He  reaches  hungry  hands  to  grasp 
The  luscious  fruit. 

When  thus  through  that  dark  world  of  souls 
Sweet  Orpheus  poured  such  heavenly  strains  1080 

That  the  impious  rock  of  Sisyphus 
Was  moved  to  follow  him; 
Then  did  the  goddesses  of  fate 
Renew  the  exhausted  thread  of  life 
For  fair  Eurydice.     But  when, 

Unmindful  of  the  law  they  gave,  1085 

And  scarce  believing  that  his  wife 
Was  following,  the  hapless  man 
Looked  back,  he  lost  his  prize  of  song; 
For  she,  who  to  the  very  verge 
Of  life  had  come  again,  fell  back 
And  died  again. 
\  Then,  seeking  solace  still  in  song,  1090 

Orpheus  unto  the  Getans  sang: 

The  gods  themselves  are  under  law, 

Yea  he,  who  through  the  changing  year 

Directs  the  seasons  in  their  course.  1095 


Hercules    Oetaeus  255 

Dead  Hercules  bids  us  believe 
The  bard,  that  not  for  any  man 
The  fates  reweave  the  broken  web; 
And  that  all  things  which  have- been  bun,  1100 

And  shall  be,  are  but  born  to  die. 
When  to  the  world  the  day  shall  come 
On  which  the  reign  of  law  shall  cease, 
Then  shall  the  southern  heavens  fall, 

And  overwhelm  broad  Africa  1 105 

With  all  her  tribes;  the  northern  skies 
Shall  fall  upon  those  barren  plains 
Where  sweep  the  blasts  of  Boreas. 
Then  from  the  shattered  heaven  the  sun 
Shall  fall,  and  day  shall  be  no  more.  mo 

The  palace  of  the  heavenly  ones 
Shall  sink  in  ruins,  dragging  down 
The  east  and  western  skies.     Then  death 
And  chaos  shall  o'erwhelm  the  gods  1115 

In  common  ruin;  and  at  last, 
When  all  things  else  have  been  destroyed, 
\Death  shall  bring  death  unto  itself. 
Where  shall  the  earth  find  haven  then  ? 
Will  hades  open  wide  her  doors 

To  let  the  shattered  heavens  in  ?  1 120 

Or  is  the  space  'twixt  heaven  and  earth 
Not  great  enough  (perchance  too  great) 
For  all  the  evils  of  the  world  ? 
What  place  is  great  enough  to  hold 
Such  monstrous  ills  of  fate  ?'     What  place 
\\  ill  hold  the  gods?     Shall  one  place  then  1 125 

Contain  three  kingdoms— sea  and  sky 
And  Tartara  ? — 
But  what  outrageous  clamor  this 
That  fills  our  frightened  ears  ?     Behold, 
It  is  the  voice  of  Hercules.  1 1  30 

■  Reading,  iati. 


atf 


T  H  I       T  RAGED!  l    S      OF      SKNECA 


ACT  IV 

[Enter  Hercules  in  the  extremity  oj  suffering.] 
Hercules:    Turn  back  thy  panting  steeds,  thou  shining  sun, 
And  bid  the  nighl  come  forth.     Biol  oul  the  day, 
And  lei  the  heavens,  with  pitchy  darkness  filled, 
Conceal  my  dying  pains  from  Juno's  eyes. 
Now,  father,  wire  it  fitting  to  recall 

hark  chaos;  now  the  joinings  of  the  skies  1135 

Should  be  asunder  rent,  and  pole  from  pole 
Be  cleft.     Why,  father,  dost  thou  spare  the  stars? 
Thy  Hercules  is  lost.     Now,  Jupiter, 
Look  well  to  every  region  of  the  heavens, 
Lest  any  Gyas  hurl  again  the  crags 

Of  Thessaly,  and  Othrys  be  again  1140 

An  easy  missile  for  Enceladus. 
Now,  even  now  will  haughty  Pluto  loose 
The  gates  of  hell,  strike  off  his  father's  chains, 
And  give  him  back  to  heaven.     Since  Hercules, 
Who  on  the  earth  has  seen  thy  thunderbolt 
And  lightning  flash,  must  turn  him  back  to  Styx; 
Enceladus  the  fierce  will  rise  again,  1145 

And  hurl  against  the  gods  that  mighty  weight 
Which  now  oppresses  him.     O  Jupiter, 
My  death  throughout  the  kingdom  of  the  sky 
"  -Shall  shake  thy  sovereignty.     Then,  ere  thy  throne 
,  Become  the  giants'  spoil,  give  burial 
Beneath  the  ruined  universe  to  me; 

Oh,  rend  thy  kingdom  ere  'tis  rent  from  thee.  1150 

Chorus:  No  empty  fears,  O  Thunderer's  son, 

Dost  thou  express:  for  soon  again 

Shall  Pelion  on  Ossa  rest; 

And  Athos,  heaped  on  Pindus,  thrust 

Its  woods  amidst  the  stars  of  heaven. 

Then  shall  Typhoeus  heave  aside  1155 

The  crags  of  Tuscan  Ischia; 

Enceladus,  not  yet  o'ercome 

By  thunderbolts,  shall  bear  aloft 

The  huge  Aetnaean  furnaces, 

And  rend  the  gaping  mountain  side. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  257 

So  shall  it  be;  for  even  now 

The  skies  are  tottering  with  thy  fall.  1160 

Hercules:    Lo  I,  who  have  escaped  the  hands  of  death, 

Who  scorned  the  Styx,  and  thence  through  Lethe's  pool 

Returned  with  spoil  so  grim  and  terrible, 

That  Titan  from  his  reeling  chariot 

Was  well-nigh  thrown;  I,  whom  three  realms  have  felt: 

I  feel  the  pangs  of  death,  and  yet  no  sword  1165 

Has  pierced  my  side,  nor  has  some  mighty  crag, 

All  Othrys,  been  the  weapon  of  my  death; 

No  giant  with  his  fierce  and  gaping  jaws 

Has  heaped  high  Pindus  on  my  lifeless  corpse. 

Without  an  enemy  am  I  o'erwhelmed; s.  iT7° 

And,  what  brings  greater  anguish  to  my  soul  \ 

(Shame  to  my  manhood!),  this  my  final  day 

Has  seen  no  monster  slain.     Ah,  woe  is  me '. 

My  life  is  squandered — and  for  no  return.' 

O  thou,  whose  rule  is  over  all  the  world; 

Ye  gods  of  heaven  who  have  beheld  my  deeds; 

O  earth,  is't  fitting  that  your  Hercules  11 75 

Should  die  by  such  a  death  ?     Oh,  cruel  shame ! 

Oh,  base  and  bitter  end — that  fame  should  say 

Great  Hercules  was  by  a  woman  slain, 

He  who  in  mortal  combat  has  o'ercome1 

So  many  men  and  beasts!     If  changeless  fate 

Had  willed  that  I  by  woman's  hand  should  die,  1180 

And  if  to  such  base  end  my  thread  of  life, 

Alas,  must  lead,  Oh,  that  I  might  have  fallen 

By  Juno's  hate.     'Twould  be  by  woman's  hand, 

But  one  who  holds  the  heavens  in  her  sway. 

If  that,  ye  gods,  were  more  than  I  should  ask, 

The  Amazon,  beneath  the  Scythian  skies 

Brought  forth,  might  better  have  o'ercome  my  strength. 

But  by  what  woman's  hand  shall  I  be  said,  1185 

Great  Juno's  enemy,  to  have  been  slain  ? 

This  is  for  thee,  my  stepdame,  deeper  shame. 

Why  shouldsl  thou  call  this  day  a  day  of  joy? 

What  baleful  thing  like  this  has  earth  produced 

1  Reading,  auclor. 


T 11  i     Tragedies    oi    Seneca 


To  sate  tliy  wrath  ?    A  mortal  woman's  hate 
>  lias  far  excelled  thine  own.    'Twas  late  thy  shame, 
To  feci  thyself  by  Hercules  alone 
Outmatched;  but  now  must  thou  confess  thyself 
By  two  o'ercome.     Shame  on  such  heavenly  wrath! 
(  >h,  that  the  Nemean  lion  of  my  blood 
Had  drunk  his  till,  and  Oh,  that  1  had  fed 
The  hydra  with  his  hundred  snaky  heads 
Upon  my  gore!     Oh,  that  the  centaurs  fierce 
Had  made  a  prey  of  me;  or  'midst  the  shades 
I,  bound  upon  the  everlasting  rock, 
Were  sitting,  lost  in  misery!     But  no: 
From  every  distant  land  I've  taken  spoil, 
While  fate  looked  on  amazed;  from  hellish  Styx 
Have  I  come  back  to  earth;  the  bonds  of  Dis 
1 1  have  o'ercome.     Death  shunned  me  everywhere, 
That  I  might  lack  at  last  a  glorious  end. 
Alas  for  all  the  monsters  I  have  slain ! 
Oh,  why  did  not  three-headed  Cerberus, 
When  he  had  seen  the  sunlight,  drag  me  back 
To  hell  ?     Why,  far  away  'neath  western  skies, 
Did  not  the  monstrous  shepherd  lay  me  low  ? 
And  those  twin  serpents  huge — ah,  woe  is  me, 
How  often  have  I  'scaped  a  glorious  death ! 
What  honor  comes  from  such  an  end  at  this  ? 
Chorus:  Dost  see  how,  conscious  of  his  fame, 

i  He  does  not  shrink  from  Lethe's  stream  ? 
Not  grief  for  death,  but  shame  he  feels 
At  this  his  cause  of  death;  he  longs 
Beneath  some  giant's  vasty  bulk 
To  draw  his  final  breath,  to  feel 
Some  mountain-heaving  Titan's  weight 
Oppressing  him,  to  owe  his  death 
To  some  wild,  raging  beast.     But  no, 
Poor  soul,  because  of  thine  own  hand 
There  is  no  deadly  monster  more.     ^ 
What  worthy  author  of  thy  death, 
Save  that  right  hand  of  thine,  is  left  ? 
Hercules:    Alas,  what  Scorpion,  what  Cancer,  torn 


1 1 90 


"95 


1200 


1205 


1210 


1215 


Hercules    Oetaeus  259 

From  Summer's  burning  zone,  inflames  my  breast  ? 

!My  lungs,  once  filled  with  pulsing  streams  of  blood,  1220 

Are  dry  and  empty  now;  my  liver  burns, 

Its  healthy  juices  parched  and  dried  away; 

And  all  my  blood  is  by  slow  creeping  fires 

Consumed.     Destruction  on  my  skin  feeds  first, 

Then  deep  within  my  flesh  it  eats  its  way,  1225 

Devours  my  sides,  my  limbs  and  breast  consumes, 

Dries  up  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones. 

There  in  my  empty  bones  the  pest  remains; 

Nor  can  my  massive  frame  for  long  endure, 

But  even  now,  with  broken,  crumbling  joints, 

Begins  to  fall  away.     My  strength  is  gone,  i23° 

And  e'en  the   limbs  of  mighty  Hercules 

Arc  not  enough  to  satisfy  this  pest. 

Alas,  how  mighty  must  that  evil  be, 

When  I  confess  it  great!     Oh,  cruel  wrong! 

Now  see,  ye  cities,  see  what  now  remains 

Of  famous  Hercules.     Dost  know  thy  son, 

O  father  Jove?     Was't  with  such  arms  as  these  1235 

That  I  crushed  out  the  Nemean  monster's  life  ? 

Did  this  hand  stretch  that  mighty  bow  of  mine 

Which  brought  to  earth  from  out  the  very  stars 

The  vile  Stymphalian  birds?     These  sluggish  feet — 

Did  they  outstrip  the  swiftly  fleeing  stag, 

With  golden  antlers  gleaming  on  his  head  ? 

Did  rocky  Calpe,  shattered  by  these  hands,  1240 

Let  out  the  sea  ?     So  many  monstrous  beasts, 

So  many  cruel  men,  so  many  kings — 

Did  these  poor  hands  of  mine  destroy  them  all  ? 
I  Upon  these  shoulders  did  the  heavens  rest  ? 

Is  this  my  mighty  frame  ?     Is  this  my  neck  ? 
S  Are  these  the  hands  which  once  the  tottering  skies 

I'pheld  ?     Oh,  can  it  be  that  ever  I 

The  Stygian  watchdog  dragged  into  the  light  ?  1245 

Where  are  those  powers,  which  ere  their  proper  time 

Are  dead  and  buried  ?     Why  on  Jupiter 

As  father  do  I  call  ?     Why,  wretched  one. 

Do  I  lay  claim  to  heaven  by  right  of  him  ? 


260  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

For  qow,  Oh,  now  will  L  be  thought  the  son 
Of  old  Amphitryon.    <)  deadly  pest, 
Whate'er  thou  art  which  in  my  vitals  lurk'st, 

Pome  forth.    Why  with  ;i  hidden  agony  1250 

}Dost  thou  afflict  my  heart  ?     What  Scythian  sea 
Beneath  the  frozen  north,  what  Telhys  slow, 
What  Spanish  Calpe  nigh  the  Moorish  shore 
Begot  and  brought  thee  forth  ?     O  evil  dire! 
Art  thou  some  crested  serpent  brandishing 
Its  hideous  head;  or  some  fell  thing  of  ill  1255 

As  yet  unknown  to  me,  produced  perchance 
From  Hydra's  poisonous  gore,  or  left  on  earth 
By  Cerberus,  the  deadly  dog  of  Styx  ? 
Oh,  every  ill  art  thou,  and  yet  no  ill. 
What  are  thy  form  and  features  ?     Grant  at  least 
That  I  may  know  the  thing  by  which  I  die. 
Whate'er  thy  name,  whatever  monster  thou,  1260 

Come  out,  and  show  thy  terror  to  my  face. 
What  enemy  has  made  a  way  for  thee 
Unto  my  inmost  heart  ?     Behold  my  hands 
Have  torn  aside  my  burning  skin  and  so 
My  bleeding  flesh  disclosed.     But  deeper  yet 
Its  hiding-place.     Oh,  woe  invincible 

As  Hercules!     But  whence  these  grievous  cries ?  1265 

And  whence  these  tears  which  trickle  down  my  cheeks  ? 
Mv  face,  unmoved  by  grief,  has  never  yet 
Been  wet  with  tears;  but  now,  Oh,  shame  to  me, 
Has  learned  to  weep.     Where  is  the  day,  the  land, 
That  has  beheld  the  tears  of  Hercules  ? 
Dry-eyed  have  I  my  troubles  ever  borne. 

To  thee  alone,  dire  pest,  to  thee  alone  1270 

That  strength  has  yielded  which  so  many  ills 
Has  overcome.     Thou  first,  yea,  first  of  all 
Hast  forced  the  tear-drops  from  these  stubborn  eyes. 
For,  harder  than  the  bristling  crag,  or  steel, 
Or  than  the  wandering  Symplegades, 
Hast  thou  my  stern  face  softened,  and  my  tears, 
Unwilling,  forced  to  flow.     And  now  the  world,  1275 

O  thou  most  mighty  ruler  of  the  skies, 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


261 


Has  seen  me  giving  way  to  tears  and  groans; 
And,  that  which  brings  me  greater  anguish  still,/ 
My  stepdame  too  has  seen.     But  lo,  again 
The  scorching  heat  flames  up  and  burns  my  heart. 
Oh,  slay  me,  father,  with  thy  heavenly  dart. 
Chorus:  Where  is  the  strength  that  can  withstand 

The  power  of  suffering?     But  now 

More  hard  than  Thracian  Haemus'  crags,  1280 

Sterner  than  savage  northern  skies, 

He  is  by  agony  subdued. 

His  fainting  head  upon  his  breast 

Falls  low;  his  massive  frame  he  shifts 

From  side  to  side;  now  and  again 

His  manly  courage  dries  his  tears.  1285 

So,  with  however  warm  a  flame 

Bright  Titan  labors  to  dissolve 

The  arctic  snows,  still  are  his  fires 

By  those  bright,  icy  rays  outshone. 
Hercules:    O  father,  turn  and  look  upon  my  woes.  1290 

Never  till  now  has  great  Alcides  fled 
To  thee  for  aid;  not  when  around  my  limbs 
The  deadly  hydra,  fertile  in  its  death, 
Its  writhing  serpents  folded.     'Mid  the  pools 
Of  hell,  by  that  thick  pall  of  death  I  stood 
Surrounded  close;  and  yet  I  called  thee  not. 
How  many  dreadful  beasts  have  I  o'ercomr,  1295 

How  many  kings  and  tyrants;  yet  my  face 
Have  I  ne'er  turned  in  suppliance  to  the  sky. 
This  hand  of  mine  alone  has  been  the  god 
Who  heard  my  prayers.     No  gleaming  thunderbolts 
Have  ever  flashed  from  heaven  on  my  account. 
Hut  now  at  last  has  come  a  woeful  time 

Which  bids  me  ask  for  aid.     This  day,  the  first  1300 

And  last,  shall  hear  the  prayers  of  llrn  ules. 
One  thunderbolt  I  ask,  and  only  one. 
Consider  me  a  giant  storming  heaven. 
Yea,  heaven  I  might  have  stormed  in  very  truth; 
But,  since  I  deemed  thee  sire,  I  spared  the  skies.  - 
Oh,  whether  thou  be  harsh  or  merciful,  1305 


( 


a6a  T  ii  i     Tkaci  i>ii  s    of    Seneca 

Stretch  forth  thy  hand  and  grant  me  speedy  death, 

And  gain  this  greal  renown  unto  thy  name 

( >r.  if  thy  righteous  hand  refuse  a  task 

So  impious,  send  forth  from  Sicily 

Those  burning  Titans,  who  with  gianl  hands 

May  Pindus  huge  upheave,  and  Ossa  too,  1310 

And  overwhelm  me  with  their  crushing  weight. 

Lei  dire  Bellona  burst  the  bars  of  hell, 

And  with  her  gleaming  weapon  pierce  my  heart; 

<  >r  let  tunc  Mars  be  armed  for  my  dcalh; 

He  is  my  brother;  true,  but  Juno's  son. 

Thou  also,  sprung  from  father  Jove,  and  so 

Alcides'  sister,  bright  Athene,  come,  1315 

And  hurl  thy  spear  against  thy  brother's  breast. 

And  e'en  to  thee  I  stretch  my  suppliant  hands, 

0  cruel  stepdame;  thou  at  least,  I  pray, 
Let  fly  thy  dart  (so  by  a  woman's  hand 

1  may  be  slain),  thine  anger  soothed  at  last, 
\Thy  thirst  for  vengeance  sated.     Why  dost  thou 

\Still  nurse  thy  wrath?     Why  further  seek  revenge?  1320 

Behold  Alcides  suppliant  to  thee, 

Which  no  wild  beast,  no  land  has  ever  seen. 

But  now,  O  Juno,  when  I  need  thy  wrath, 

Is  now  thine  anger  cooled,  thy  hate  forgot  ? 

Thou  giv'st  me  life  when  'tis  for  death  I  pray. 

O  lands,  and  countless  cities  of  the  earth,  1325 

Is  there  no  one  among  you  all  to  bring 

A  blazing  torch  for  mighty  Hercules  ? 

Will  no  one  give  me  arms  ?     Why  take  away 

My  weapons  from  my  hands  ?     Then  let  no  land 

Bring  forth  dire  monsters  more  when  I  am  dead, 

And  let  the  world  not  ask  for  aid  of  mine. 

If  other  ills  are  born  into  the  world, 

Then  must  another  savior  come  as  well.  1330 

Oh,  bring  ye  heavy  stones  from  every  side 

And  hurl  them  at  my  wretched  head;   and  so 

O'erwhelm  at  last  my  woes.     Ungrateful  world, 

Dost  thou  refuse  ?     Hast  thou  forgot  me  quite  ? 

Thou  wouldst  thyself  have  been  a  helpless  prey 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


263 


Alcmena: 


Hi  rculcs. 


Alcmena: 


Hcrcuhs. 
Alcmena: 
Hercules. 
Alcmena: 
Hercules. 
Alcmena: 
Hi  rculcs. 
Alcmena: 
Hercules. 


To  evil  monsters,  had  not  I  been  born. 

Then,  O  ye  peoples,  rescue  me  from  ill,  1335 

Your  champion.     This  chance  is  given  you, 

By  slaying  me  to  cancel  all  you  owe. 
[Enter  Alcmena.] 

Where  shall  Alcides'  wretched  mother  go  ? 

Where  is  my  son  ?     Lo,  if  I  see  aright, 

Yonder  he  lies  with  burning  fever  tossed 

And  throbbing  heart.     I  hear  his  groans  of  pain.  1340 

Ah  me,  his  life  is  at  an  end.     My  son, 

Come,  let  me  fold  thee  in  a  last  embrace, 

And  catch  thy  parting  spirit  in  my  mouth; 

These  arms  of  mine  upon  thine  own  I'll  lay. 

But  where  are  they  ?     Where  is  that  sturdy  neck 
i  Which  bore  the  burden  of  the  starry  heavens? 

What  cause  has  left  to  thee  so  small  a  part 

Of  thy  once  massive  frame  ?  1345 

Thou  seest,  indeed, 

The  shadow  and  the  piteous  counterfeit 

Of  thine  Alcides.     Come,  behold  thy  son. 

But  why  dost  turn  away  and  hide  thy  face? 
\  Art  thou  ashamed  that  such  as  I  am  called 
'Thy  son  ? 

What  land,  what  world  has  given  birth 

To  this  new  monster  ?     What  so  dire  a  thing  1350 

Has  triumphed  over  mighty  Hercules  ? 

By  my  own  wife's  deceits  am  I  undone. 

What  fraud  is  great  enough  to  conquer  thee  ? 

Whate're  is  great  enough  for  woman's  wrath. 

How  got  the  pest  so  deep  within  thy  frame?  1355 

Through  a  poisoned  robe  sent  by  a  woman's  hands. 

Where  is  the  robe  ?     I  see  thy  limbs  are  bare. 

With  me  'tis  all  consumed. 

How  can  it  be? 

I  tell  thee,  mother,  through  my  vitals  roam 

The  hydra  and  a  thousand  poisonous  beasts.  1360 

What  flames  as  hot  as  these  invade  the  clouds 

O'er  Aetna's  top?     What  glowing  Lemnian  fires, 

What  torrid  radiance  of  the  burning  heavens, 


364  Thi     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Within  whose  scorching  /.one  the  day  comes  not? 

O  comrades,  take  and  throw  me  in  t he  sea, 

( >r  in  the  river's  rushing  stream     alas,  1365 

Where  is  the  stream  that  will  suffice  for  me? 

Though  greater  than  all  lands,  nol  ocean's  self 

v    Can  cool  my  burning  pains.     To  ease  my  woe 

All  streams  were  not  enough,  all  springs  would  fail. 

Why,  O  thou  lord  of  Erebus,  didst  thou 

To  Jove  return  me  ?     Better  had  it  been 

To  hold  me  fast.     Oh,  take  me  back  again,  1370 

Vnd  show  me  as  I  am  to  those  fell  shades 

Whom  I  subdued.     Naught  will  I  take  away. 

Thou  hast  no  need  to  fear  Alcides  more. 

Come  death,  attack  me;  have  no  fear  of  me; 

For  I  at  length  am  fain  to  welcome  thee. 
Alcmcna:     Restrain  thy  tears  at  least;  subdue  thy  pains. 

Come,  show  thyself  unconqucred  still  by  woe;  1375 

I  And  death  and  hell,  as  is  thy  wont,  defy. 
Hercules:    n  on  the  heights  of  Caucasus  I  lay 

In  chains,  to  greedy  birds  of  prey  exposed, 
\  While  Scythia  wailed  in  sympathy  with  me, 

No  sound  of  woe  should  issue  from  my  lips; 

Or  should  the  huge,  unfixed  Symplegades  1380 

Together  clash  and  threaten  me  with  death, 

I'd  bear  unmoved  the  threatened  agony. 

Should  Pindus  fall  upon  me,  Haemus  too, 

Tall  Athos  which  defies  the  Thracian  seas, 

And  Mimas  at  whose  towering  peaks  are  hurled 

The  bolts  of  Jove — if  e'en  the  sky  itself  1385 

)  Should  fall  upon  my  head,  and  Phoebus'  car 

In  blazing  torture  on  my  shoulders  lie: 

No  coward  cry  of  pain  would  ever  show 

The  mind  of  Hercules  subdued.     Nay  more: 

Although  a  thousand  monstrous  beasts  at  once 

Should  rush  upon  and  rend  me  limb  from  limb; 

Though  here  Stymphalus'  bird  with  clangor  wild,  1390 

And  there  with  all  his  strength  the  threat'ning  bull, 

And  all  fierce,  monstrous  things,  should  press  me  hard; 

Nay,  though  the  very  soil  of  earth  should  rise 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


265 


And  shriek'  its  rage  at  me  from  every  side; 

Though  Sinis  dire  should  hurl  me  through  the  air: 

Though  sore  besteail  and  mangled,  still  would  I 

In  silence  bear  it  all.     No  beasts,  no  arms, 

Xo  weapon  wielded  by  the  hand  of  man, 

Could  force  from  me  a  single  word  of  pain.  1395 

Alcntena:     No  woman's  poison  burns  thy  limbs,  my  son; 

Hut  thy  long  years  of  work,  thy  constant  toils, 

Have  for  thy  woe  some  evil  sickness  bred. 
Hercules:    Sickness,  say'st  thou  ?     Where  may  this  sickness  be  ? 

Does  any  evil  still  upon  the  earth 

Exist,  with  me  alive  ?     But  let  it  come. 

Let  someone  quickly  bring  my  bow  to  me —  1400 

But  no:  my  naked  hands  will  be  enough. 

Now  bid  the  monster  come. 
Alcntena:  Alas,  his  pains, 

Too  great,  have  reft  his  senses  quite  away. 

Remove  his  weapons,  take  those  deadly  shafts 

Out  of  his  reach,  I  pray.     His  burning  cheeks  1405 

Some  violence  portend.     Oh,  where  shall  I, 

A  helpless,  aged  woman  hide  myself? 

That  grief  of  his  has  changed  to  maddened  rage, 

And  that  alone  is  master  of  him  now. 

Why  should  I,  therefore,  foolish  that  I  am, 

Seek  hiding-place  or  flight  ?     By  some  brave  hand 

Alcmena  has  deserved  to  meet  her  death. 

So  let  me  perish  even  impiously,  1410 

Before  some  craven  soul  command  my  death, 

Or  some  base  creature  triumph  over  me. 

But  sec,  outworn  by  woe,  his  weary  heart 

Is  in  the  soothing  bonds  of  slumber  bound; 

His  panting  chest  with  labored  breathing  heaves. 

Have  mercy,  O  ye  gods.     If  ye  from  me  1415 

Have  willed  to  take  my  glorious  son,  at  least 

Spare  to  the  world,  I  pray,  its  champion. 

Let  all  his  pains  depart,  and  once  again 

Let  .great  Alcides'  frame  renew  its  strength. 
[Enter  Hyllus.] 

1  Reading,  fremens. 


266 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Hvllits:       O  hitler  light,  O  day  with  evil  filled! 

Dead  is  the  Thunderer's  daughter,  and  his  son 
Lies  dying!    I  alone  of  all  survive. 

By  my  own  mother's  erime  my  father  dies, 
But  she  by  guile  was  snared.     What  agexl  man, 
Throughout  the  round  of  years,  in  all  his  life, 
Will  e'er  be  able  to  recount  such  woes  ? 
One  day  has  snatched  away  my  parents  both. 
But  though  I  say  naught  of  my  other  ills, 
And  cease  to  blame  the  fates,  still  must  I  say: 
Mv  sire,  the  mighty  Hercules,  is  gone. 

Alcmcna:     Restrain  thy  words,  child  of  illustrious  sire, 
And  matched  with  sad  Alcmena  in  her  grief; 
Perchance  long  slumber  will  assuage  his  pain. 
But  see,  repose  deserts  his  weary  heart, 
And  gives  him  back  to  suffering,  me  to  grief. 

Hercides  [awakening  in  delirium):    Why,  what  is  this?     Do  I  with 
waking  eyes 
See  little  Trachin  on  her  craggy  seat, 
Or,  set  amongst  the  stars,  have  I  at  length 
Escaped  the  race  of  men  ?     Who  opes  for  me 
The  gate  of  heaven  ?     Thee,  father,  now  I  see, 
Thee,  and  my  stepdame  too  at  last  appeased. 
What  heavenly  sound  is  this  that  fills  my  ears  ? 
Great  Juno  calls  me  son !     Now  I  behold 
The  gleaming  palace  of  the  heavenly  world, 
And  Phoebus'  path  worn  by  his  burning  wheels. 

[Beginning  to  come  out  oj  his  delirium.'] 
,1  see  night's  couch;  her  shadows  call  me  hence. 


1420 


1425 


143° 


1435 


But  whaTis  this  ?  who  shuts  me  out  of  heaven, 
And  from  the  stars,  O  father,  leads  me  down  ? 
\  I  felt  the  glow  of  Phoebus  on  my  face, 
So  near  to  heaven  was  I;  but  now,  alas, 
'Tis  Trachin  that  I  see.     Oh,  who  to  earth 
Has  given  me  back  again  ?    A  moment  since, 
And  Oeta's  lofty  peak  stood  far  below, 
And  all  the  world  was  lying  at  my  feet. 
How  sweet  the  respite  that  I  had  from  thee, 
O  grief.     Thou  mak'st  me  to  confess — but  stay, 


1440 


1445 


Hercules    Oetaeus 


267 


Let  not  such  shameful  words  escape  thy  lips. 

[To  Hyllus.] 
This  woe,  my  son,  is  of  thy  mother's  gift. 
Oh,  that  I  might  crush  out  her  guilty  life 
With  my  great  club,  as  once  the  Amazons 
I  smote  upon  the  snowy  Caucasus. 
O  well-loved  Megara,  to  think  that  thou 
Wast  wife  of  mine  when  in  that  fit  I  fell 
Of  maddened  rage!     Give  me  my  club  and  bow; 
Let  my  hand  be  disgraced,  and  with  a  blot 
Let  me  destroy  the  luster  of  my  praise — 
My  latest  conquest  on  a  woman  gained ! 

Hyllus:       Now  curb  the  dreadful  threatenings  of  thy  wrath; 
She  has  her  wound — 'tis  over — and  has  paid 
The  penalty  which  thou  wouldst  have  her  pay: 
For  now,  self-slain,  my  mother  lies  in  death. 

Hercules:    O  grief,  still  with  me!     She  deserved  to  die 
Beneath  the  hands  of  angry  Hercules. 

0  Lichas,  thou  hast  lost  thy  mate  in  death. 
So  hot  my  wrath,  against  her  helpless  corpse 

1  still  would  rage.     Why  does  her  body  lie 
Secure  from  my  assaults  ?     Go  cast  it  out 
To  be  a  banquet  for  the  birds  of  prey. 

Hyllus:      She  suffered  more  than  even  thou  wouldst  wish. 
Self-slain,  and  grieving  sore  for  thee,  she  died. 
But  'tis  not  by  a  cruel  wife's  deceit, 
Nor  by  my  mother's  guile,  thou  liest  low. 
By  Nessus  was  this  deadly  plot  conceived, 
Who,  smitten  by  thine  arrow,  lost  his  life. 
'Twas  in  the  centaur's  gore  the  robe  was  dipped, 
And  by  thy  pains  he  doth  requite  his  own. 

Ifircules:    Then  truly  are  his  pains  well  recompensed, 
And  my  own  doubtful  oracles  explained. 
This  fate  the  talking  oak  foretold  to  me, 
And  Delphi's  oracle,  whose  sacred  voice 
Shook  Cirrha's  temples  and  Parnassus'  slopes: 
''By  hand  of  one  whom  thou  hast  slain,  some  day, 
Victorious  Hercules,  shalt  thou  lie  low. 
This  end,  when  thou  hast  traversed  sea  and  land, 


1450 


1455 


1460 


1465 


1470 


'475 


26S  The    T  r  a  c.  i  dj  e  s    of    S  e  n  e  c  a 

And  the  realm  of  spirits,  is  reserved  for  thee." 

Now  will  we  grieve  QO  more;  SUCh  end  is  meet; 

Thus  shall  no  conqueror  of  Hercules  1480 

Survive  to  tell  the  tale.     Now  shall  my  death 

Be  glorious,  illustrious,  renowned, 

And  worthy  of  myself.     This  final  day 

Will  I  make  famous  in  the  ears  of  men. 

Go,  cut  down  all  the  woods,  and  Oeta's  groves 

Bring  hither,  that  a  mighty  funeral  pyre 

May  hold  great  Hercules  before  he  dies. 

And  thee,  dear  son  of  Poeas,  thee  I  ask  1485 

To  do  this  last,  sad  office  for  thy  friend, 

And  all  the  sky  illumine  with  the  flames 

Of  Hercules.     And  now  to  thee  this  prayer, 

This  last  request,  Hyllus,  my  son,  I  make: 

Among  my  captives  is  a  beauteous  maid, 

Of  noble  breeding  and  of  royal  birth. 

'Tis  Iole,  the  child  of  Eurytus.  149° 

Her  would  I  have  thee  to  thy  chamber  lead 

With  fitting  marriage  rites;  for,  stained  with  blood, 

Victorious,  I  robbed  her  of  her  home 

And  fatherland;  and  in  return,  poor  girl, 

Naught  save  Alcides  have  I  given  her; 

And  he  is  gone.     Then  let  her  soothe  her  woes 

In  the  embrace  of  him  who  boasts  the  blood  1495 

Of  Jove  and  Hercules.     Whatever  seed 

She  has  conceived  of  me  let  her  to  thee 

Bring  forth. 

[To  Alcmena.] 
And  do  thou  cease  thy  plaints,  I  pray, 
For  me,  great  mother;  thy  Alcides  lives; 
And  by  my  might  have  I  my  stepdame  made 
To  seem  but  as  the  concubine  of  Jove.  1500 

Whether  the  story  of  the  night  prolonged 
At  Hercules'  begetting  be  the  truth, 
Or  whether  I  was  got  of  mortal  sire — 
Though  I  be  falsely  called  the  son  of  Jove, 
I  have  indeed  deserved  to  be  his  son; 
For  I  have  honored  him,  and  to  his  praise  1505 


Hercules    Oetaeus  269 

My  mother  brought  me  forth.     Nay,  Jove  himself 

Is  proud  that  he  is  held  to  be  my  sire. 

Then  cease  thy  tears,  O  mother;  thou  shalt  be 

Of  high  degree  among  Argolic  dames. 

For  no  such  son  as  thine  has  Juno  borne, 

Though  she  may  wield  the  scepter  of  the  skies,  15 10 

The  Thunderer's  bride.     And  yet,  though  holding  heaven, 

She  grudged  Alcidcs  to  a  mortal  birth, 

And  wished  that  she  might  call  him  son  of  hers. 

Now,  Titan,  must  thou  go  thy  way  alone; 

For  I,  who  have  thy  constant  comrade  been, 

Am  bound  for  Tartara,  the  world  of  shades. 

Yet  down  to  hell  I  bear  this  noble  praise:  15 15 

That  openly  no  monster  conquered  me, 

But  that  I  conquered  all — and  openly. 


Chorus:  Bright  sun,  thou  glory  of  the  world, 

At  whose  first  rays  wan  Hecate 
\  Unyokes  the  weary  steeds  of  night,  1520 

To  east  and  west  the  message  tell ; 

To  those  who  suffer  'neath  the  Bear, 
]And  who,  beneath  thy  burning  car 

Are  tortured:  Hercules  prepares 

To  speed  him  to  the  world  of  shades,  1525 

The  realm  of  sleepless  Cerberus, 

Whence  he  will1  ne'er  again  return. 

Let  thy  bright  rays  be  overcast 

With  clouds;  gaze  on  the  mourning  world 

With  pallid  face;  and  let  thy  head 
Tn  thick  and  murky  mists  be  veiled.  1530 

When,  Titan,  where,  beneath  what  sky, 

Shalt  thou  behold  upon  the  earth 

Another  such  as  Herculo  ? 

Whom  shall  the  wretched  land  invoke, 

If  any  hundred-headed  pest, 

In  Lerna  born,  spring  up  anew  1535 

And  spread  destruction;  if  again 

Some  lx>ar  in  ancient  Arcady 

Infest  the  woods;  or  if  again 

■  Reading,  remcabil. 


270  The    Tragedies    01     Seneca 


Some  son  <>f  Thradan  Rhodope, 

With  heart  more  hard  than  the  frozen  lands 

That  lie  'neath  snowy  Helii c, 

Should  slain  liis  stalls  with  human  gore?  1540 

Who  will  give  peace  to  the  trembling  folk 

If  angry  gods  with  monstrous  birth 

Should  curse  the  world  again?     Behold, 

The  mate  for  common  man  he  lies, 

Whom  earth  produced  a  mate  for  Jove. 

Let  lamentations  loud  resound  1545 

Through  all  the  world;  with  streaming  hair 

Let  women  smite  their  naked  arms; 

Let  all  the  temples  of  the  gods 

Be  closed  save  Juno's;  she  alone 

Is  free  from  care. 

To  Lethe  and  the  Stygian  shore  1550 

Now  art  thou  going,  whence  no  keel 

Will  ever  bring  thee  back.     Thou  goest, 

Lamented  one,  unto  the  shades, 

Whence,  death  o'ercome,  thou  once  return'dst 

In  triumph  with  thy  prize;  but  now, 

An  empty  shade,  with  flcshless  arms, 

Wan  face,  and  slender,  drooping  neck,  1555 

Thou  goest  back.     Nor  will  the  skiff 

(Which  once  bore  only  thee  and  feared 

That  even  so  'twould  be  o'erturned) 

Bear  thee  alone  across  the  stream. 

But  not  with  common  shades  shalt  thou 

Be  herded.     Thou  with  Aeacus1 

And  pious  kings  of  Crete  shalt  sit 

In  judgment  on  the  deeds  of  men, 

And  punish  tyrants.     O  ye  kings,  1560 

Be  merciful,  restrain_your  hands. 

'Tis  worthy  praise  to  keep  the  sword 

Unstained  with  blood;  while  thou  didst  reign,/ 

Upon  thy  realm  to  have  allowed 

Least  privilege  to  bloody2  fate. 

But  place  among  the  stars  is  given 

1  Reading.  Aeacon.  *  Reading,  minimum  cruenlis. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  '  271 

To  manly  virtue.     Shall  thou  hold  1565 

Thy  seat  within  the  northern  skies, 
Or  where  his  fiercest  rays  the  sun 
Sends  forth  ?     Or  in  the  balmy  west 
Wilt  shine,  where  thou  mayst  hear  the  waves 
On  Calpe's  shore  resound  ?     What  place 
In  heaven  serene  shalt  thou  obtain  ?  1570 

When  great  Alcides  is  received 
\Among  the  stars,  who  will  be  free 
From  fear?     May  Jove  assign  thy  place 
Far  from  the  raging  Lion's  seat, 
And  burning  Crab,  lest  at  sight  of  thee 
The  frightened  stars  confuse  their  laws 
And  Titan  quake  with  fear.  1575 

So  long  as  blooming  flowers  shall  come 
With  wakening  spring;  while  winter's  frosts 
Strip  bare  the  trees,  and  summer  suns 
Reclothe  them  with  their  wonted  green; 
While  in  the  autumn  ripened  fruits 

Fall  to  the  ground:  no  lapse  of  time  1580 

Shall  e'er  destroy  thy  memory 
Upon  the  earth.     For  thou  shalt  live 
As  comrade  of  the  sun  and  stars. 
Sooner  shall  wheat  grow  in  the  sea, 
Or  stormy  straits  with  gentle  waves 
Beat  on  the  shore;  sooner  descend 
The  Bear  from  out  his  frozen  sky 

And  bathe  him  in  forbidden  waves:  1585 

Than  shall  the  thankful  people  cease 
*  To  sing  thy  pra 

And  now  to  thee, 
O  father  of  the  world,  we  pray: 
Let  do  dread  beast  be  born  on  earth, 
\  .  monstrous  pest;  keep  this  poor  world 
Prom  abject  fear  of  heartless  kin- 
Let  no  one  hold  the  reins  of  power  1500 
Who  deems  his  kingdom's  glory  lies 
In  the  terror  of  his  naked  sword. 
But  if  again  some  thing  of  dread 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Appear  upon  the  earth,  Oh,  give, 
We  pray,  another  champion. 

Hut  what  is  this?     Thr  heavens  resound.  1595 

Behold  Alddes'  father  mourns, 
_He  mourns  his  son.     Or  is't  the  sound 
^  Of  grieving  gods,  or  the  cry  of  fear 

Of  the  timid  Stepdame  ?     Can  it  lie- 
That  at  the  sight  of  Hercules 

Great  Juno  flees  the  stars?     Perchance 

Beneath  the  added  weight  of  heaven 

Tall  Atlas  reels.     Or  do  the  shades  1600 

Cry  out  in  fear  of  Hercules, 

While  Cerberus  with  broken  chains 

In  panic  flees  the  sight  ?     Not  so: 

Behold,  'tis  Poeas'  son,  who  comes 

With  looks  of  gladness.     See,  he  bears 

The  well-known  quiver  and  the  shafts  1605 

Of  Hercules. 

ACT  V 

{/Inter  Philoctetes.] 
Nurse:        Speak  out,  good  youth,  and  tell  the  end,  I  pray, 

Of  Hercules.     How  did  he  meet  his  death  ? 
Philoctetes:  More  gladly  than  another  meets  his  life. 
Xiirse:        What  ?     Did  he  then  rejoice  him  in  the  fire  ? 
Philoctetes:  He  showed  that  burning  flames  were  naught  to  him.  16 10 

What  is  there  in  the  world  which  Hercules 

Has  left  unconquered  ?     He  has  vanquished  all. 
Nurse:        What  chance  for  glory  on  the  funeral  pyre  ? 
Philoctetes:  One  evil  thing  remained  upon  the  earth 

Which  he  had  not  o'ercome — the  power  of  fire.  1615 

But  this  has  now  been  added  to  the  beasts, 

And  fire  is  one  of  great  Alcides'  toils. 
Nurse:        But  tell  us  in  what  way  he  conquered  fire. 
Philoctetes:  When  all  his  sorrowing  friends  began  to  fell 

The  trees  on  Oeta's  slopes,  beneath  one  hand 

The  beech-tree  lost  its  foliage  and  lay, 

Its  mighty  trunk  prone  on  the  ground.     One  hand 

With  deadly  stroke  attacked  the  towering  pine,  1620 


Hercules    Oetaeus  273 

Which  lifted  to  the  stars  its  threatening  top, 
And  railed  it  from  the  clouds.     In  act  to  fall, 
It  shook  its  rocky  crag,  and  with  a  crash 
Whelmed  all  the  lesser  forest  in  its  fall. 
Within  the  forest  was  a  certain  oak, 
Wide-spreading,  vast,  like  that  Chaonian  tree 
Of  prophecy,  whose  shade  shuts  out  the  sun, 
Embracing  all  the  grove1  within  its  arms.  1625 

By  many  a  blow  beset,  it  groans  at  first 
In  threatening  wise,  and  all  the  wedges  breaks; 
The  smiting  axe  bounds  back,  its  edges  dulled, 
Too  soft  for  such  a  task.     At  length  the  tree, 
Long  wavering,  falls  with  widespread  ruin  down. 
Straightway  the  place  admits  the  sun's  bright  rays;  1630 

The  birds,  their  tree  o'erthrown,  fly  twittering  round, 
And  seek  their  vanished  homes  on  wearied  wing. 
Now  every  tree  resounds;  even  the  oaks 
Feel  in  their  sacred  sides  the  piercing  steel, 
Xor  does  its  ancient  sanctity  protect  1635 

The  grove.     The  wood  into  a  pile  is  heaped; 
Its  logs  alternate  rising  high  aloft, 
Make  all  too  small  a  pyre  for  Hercules: 
The  pine  inflammable,  tough-fibered  oak, 

The  ilex'  shorter  trunks.     But  poplar  trees,  1640 

Whose  foliage  adorned  Alcides'  brow, 
Fill  up  the  space  and  make  the  pyre  complete. 
But  he,  like  some  great  lion  in  the  woods 
Of  Libya  lying,  roaring  out  his  pain, 
Is  borne  along — but  who  would  e'er  believe 
That  he  was  hurrying  to  his  funeral  pyre? 
His  gaze  wis  fixed  upon  the  stars  of  heaven,  1645 

Not  tires  of  earth,  when  to  the  mount  he  came 
And  with  his  eyes  surveyed  the  mighty  pyre. 
The  great  beams  groaned  and  broke  beneath  his  weight. 
Now  he  demands  his  bow.     "Take  this,"  he  said, 
"O  son  of  Foeas,  take  this  as  the  gift 
And  pledge  of  love  from  Hercules  to  thee. 
These  deadly  shafts  the  poisonous  hydra  felt;  1650 

1  Reading,  lumus. 


274  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

With  these  the  vile  Stymphalian  birds  lie  low; 

And  every  other  monster  which  I  slew 

With  distant  aim.     O  noble  youth,  go  on 

In  victory,  for  never  'gainst  thy  foes 

Shalt  thou  send  these  in  vain.     Wouldst  wish  to  bring 

Birds  from  the  very  clouds?     Down  shall  they  fall, 

And  with  them  come  thine  arrows  sure  of  prey.  1655 

This  bow  shall  never  disappoint  thy  hand. 

Well  has  it  learned  to  poise  the  feathered  shaft 

And  send  it  flying  in  unerring  course. 

The  shafts  themselves  as  well,  loosed  from  the  string, 

Have  never  failed  to  find  their  destined  mark. 

But  do  thou  in  return,  my  only  prayer, 

Bring  now  the  funeral  torch  and  light  the  pyre.  1660 

This  club,"  he  said,  "which  never  hand  but  mine 

Has  wielded,  shall  the  flames  consume  with  me. 

This  weapon,  only,  shall  to  Hercules 

Belong.     But  this,  too,  thou  shouldst  have  from  me 

If  thou  couldst  bear  its  weight.     But  let  it  serve 

To  aid  its  master's  pyre."  Then  he  required  1665 

The  shaggy  spoil  of  the  dire  Nemean  beast 

To  burn  with  him.     The  huge  skin  hid  the  pyre. 

Now  all  the  gazing  crowd  begin  to  groan, 

And  tears  of  woe  to  fall  from  every  eye. 

His  mother  bares  her  breast  in  eager  grief 

And  smites  her  body  stripped  e'en  to  the  loins  1670 

For  unrestrained  lament;  then  all  the  gods 

And  Jupiter  himself  she  supplicates, 

While  all  the  place  re-echoes  with  her  shrieks. 
"Thou  dost  disgrace  the  death  of  Hercules, 

O  mother,  check  thy  tears,"  Alcides  said; 
"Within  thy  heart  thy  woman's  grief  confine. 

Why  shouldst  thou  make  this  day  a  time  of  joy  1675 

For  Juno  with  thy  tears  ?     For  she,  be  sure, 

Rejoices  to  behold  her  rival  weep. 

Then  this  unworthy  grief,  my  mother,  check. 

It  is  not  meet  to  abuse  the  breast  that  nursed, 

And  the  womb  that  bore  Alcides."     Thus  he  spake; 

Then  with  a  dreadful  cry,  as  when  he  led  1680 


Hercules    Oetaeus  275 

The  awful  dog  throughout  the  towns  of  Greece, 

Returned  triumphant  o'er  the  shades  of  hell, 

Scorning  the  lord  of  death  and  death  itself, 

So  did  he  lay  him  down  upon  the  pyre. 

What  victor  in  his  chariot  ever  shone 

With  such  triumphant  joy  ?     What  tyrant  king 

With  such  a  countenance  e'er  uttered  laws 

Unto  his  subject  tribes  ?     So  deep  his  calm  1685 

Of  soul.     All  tears  were  dried,  our  sorrows  shamed 

To  silence,  and  we  groaned  no  more  to  think 

That  he  must  perish.     E'en  Alcmena's  self, 

Whose  sex  is  prone  to  mourn,  now  tearless  stood, 

A  worthy  mother  of  her  noble  son.  1690 

Xitrse:        But  did  he,  on  the  verge  of  death,  no  prayer 

To  heaven  breathe,  no  aid  from  Jove  implore? 

Philoctetes:  With  peaceful  soul  he  lay,  and  scanned  the  skies, 
As  searching  from  what  quarter  of  the  heavens 
His  sire  would  look  on  him,  and  thus  he  spake,  1695 

With  hands  outstretched:  "O  father,  whencesoe'er 
From  heaven  thou  lookest  down  upon  thy  son — 
He  truly  is  my  father  for  whose  sake 
One  day  of  old  was  swallowed  up  in  night — 
If  both  the  bounds  of  Phoebus  sing  my  praise, 
If  Scythia,  and  all  the  sun-parched  lands;  1700 

If  peace  fills  all  the  world;  if  cities  groan 
Beneath  no  tyrant's  hand,  and  no  one  stains 
With  blood  of  guests  his  impious  altar  stones; 
If  horrid  crimes  have  ceased:  then,  take,  I  pray. 
My  spirit  to  the  skies.     I  have  no  fear 

Of  death,  nor  do  the  gloomy  realms  of  Dis  1705 

Affright  my  soul;  but  Oh,  I  blush  with  shame 
To  go,  a  naked  shade,  unto  those  gods 
Whom  I  myself  aforetime  overcame. 
Dispel  the  clouds  and  ope  the  gates  of  heaven, 
That  all  the  gods  may  see  Alcides  burn. 
Though  thou  refuse  me  place  among  the  stars, 
Thou  shalt  be  forced  to  grant  my  prayer.     Ah  no:  1710 

\\  grief  can  palliate  my  impious  words, 
Forgive;  spread  wide  the  Stygian  pools  for  me, 


276  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  give  me  up  to  death.    But  first,  O  sire, 

Approve  thy  son.     This  day  at  least  shall  show 
That  I  am  worthy  of  the  skies.     All  deeds 

Which  I  have  done  before  seem  worthless  now;  1715 

This  day  shall  prove  me  worthy,  or  condemn." 
When  he  had  spoken  thus  he  called  for  fire: 
"Come  hither  now,  comrade  of  Hercules, 
With  willing  hand  take  up  the  funeral  torch. 
Why  (lost  thou  tremble?     Does  thy  timid  hand 
Shrink  from  the  deed  as  from  an  impious  crime? 
Then  give  me  back  my  quiver,  coward,  weak.  1720 

Is  that  the  hand  which  fain  would  bend  my  bow? 
Why  does  such  pallor  sit  upon  thy  checks  ? 
Come,  ply  the  torch  with  that  same  fortitude 
That  thou  dost  see  in  me.     Thy  pattern  take, 
Poor  soul,  from  him  who  faces  fiery  death. 
But  lo,  my  father  calls  me  from  the  sky 

And  opens  wide  the  gates.     O  sire,  I  come!"  1725 

And  as  he  spake  his  face  was  glorified. 
Then  did  I  with  my  trembling  hand  apply 
The  blazing  torch.     But  see,  the  flames  leap  back, 
And  will  not  touch  his  limbs.     But  Hercules 
Pursues  the  fleeing  fires.     You  would  suppose 
That  Caucasus  or  Pindus  was  ablaze,  1730 

Or  lofty  Athos.     Still  no  sound  w^as  heard 
Save  only  that  the  flames  made  loud  lament. 
O  stubborn  heart !     Had  Typhon  huge  been  placed 
Upon  that  pyre,  or  bold  Enceladus, 
Who  bore  uprooted  Ossa  on  his  back, 

He  would  have  groaned  aloud  in  agony.  1735 

But  Hercules  amidst  the  roaring  flames 
Stood  up,  all  charred  and  torn,  with  dauntless  gaze, 
And  said:  "O  mother,  thus  'tis  meet  for  thee 
Beside  the  pyre  of  Hercules  to  stand. 
Such  mourning  fits  him  well.     Now  dost  thou  seem 
In  very  truth  Alcides'  mother."     There,  1740 

'Midst  scorching  heat  and  roaring  flames  he  stood, 
Unmoved,  unshaken,  showing  naught  of  pain, 
Encouraging,  advising,  active  still. 


Hercules    Oetaeds  277 

His  own  bravo  spirit  animated  all. 
You  would  have  thought  him  burning  with  desire 
To  burn.     The  crowd  looked  on  in  speechless  awe, 
And  scarce  believed  the  flames  to  be  true  fire,  1745 

So  calm  and  so  majestic  was  his  mien. 
Nor  did  he  hasten  to  consume  himself; 
\But  when  he  deemed  that  fortitude  enough 
'Was  shown  in  death,  from  every  hand  he  dragged 
The  burning  logs  which  with  least  ardor  glowed, 
Piled  them  together  in  a  mighty  fire,  1750 

And  to  the  very  center  of  the  blaze 
The  dauntless  hero  went.     Awhile  he  stood 
And  feasted  on  the  flames  his  eager  eyes. 
Then  from  his  heavy  beard  leaped  gleaming  fire. 
But  even  when  the  flames  assailed  his  face, 
And  licked  his  head  with  their  hot,  fiery  tongues, 
He  did  not  close  his  eyes.  1755 

But  what  is  this  ? 
'Tis  sad  Alcmena.     With  what  signs  of  woe 
She  makes  her  way,  while  in  her  breast  she  bears 
The  pitiful  remains  of  Hercules. 
[Enter  Alcmena,  carrying  in  Iter  bosom  a  funeral  urn.] 
Alcmena:   )  Ye  powers  of  heaven,  I  bid  jrou  fear  the  fates. 

[Holding  up  the  urn.] 
How  small  a  space  Alcides'  ashes  fill ! 
To  this  small  compass  has  that  giant  come! 

0  shining  sun,  how  great  a  man  has  gone  1 760 
To  nothingness.     Alas,  this  aged  breast 

Is  large  enough  to  be  Alcides'  tomb. 
Behold,  his  ashes  scarce  can  fill  the  urn. 

1  low  small  his  weight,  upon  whose  shoulders  once 
The  dome  of  heaven  lay,  a  burden  light. 

Thou  once  didst  go,  my  son,  to  Tartara,  1765 

The  farthest  realms  of  death— and  come  again. 

Oh,  when  wilt  thou  a  second  time  return 

From  that  infernal  stream  ?     I  ask  thee  not 

To  come  again  with  spoil,  nor  bring  again 

Imprisoned  Theseus  to  the  light  of  day; 

But  only  that  thou  come  again — alone. 


j  ;S  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Will  all  the  world,  heaped  on  thee,  hold  thy  shade,  I77° 

( >r  Cerberus  avail  t<>  keep  thee  back? 

\\  luii  wilt  thou  batter  down  the  gates  of  hell, 

Or  to  what  portals  shall  thy  mother  go? 

Where  is  the  highway  that  leads  down  to  deatli  ? 

E'en  now  thou  tak'st  thy  journey  to  the  shades, 

Which  thou  wilt  ne'er  retrace.     Why  waste  the  hours 

In  vain  complaints  ?     And  why,  O  wretched  life,  1775 

Dost  thou  endure  ?     Why  dost  thou  cling  to  day? 

What  Hercules  can  I  again  bring  forth 

To  Jupiter  ?     What  son  so  great  as  he 

Will  ever  call  Alcmena  mother?    Oh, 

Too  happy  thou,  my  Theban  husband,  thou 

Who  didst  to  gloomy  Tartara  descend 

.While  still  Alcides  lived;  at  thine  approach  1780 

^The  infernal  deities  were  filled  with  fear 

Of  thee,  though  only  the  reputed  sire 

Of  Hercules.     What  land  will  welcome  me, 

Now  old  and  hated  by  all  cruel  kings 

(If  any  cruel  king  remains  alive)  ? 

Oh,  woe  is  me !     Whatever  orphaned  son 
)  Laments  his  sire  will  strive  to  seek  revenge  1785 

From  me,  and  I  shall  be  the  prey  of  all. 

If  any  young  Busiris  or  the  son 

Of  dread  Antaeus  terrifies  the  land, 

His  booty  shall  I  be.     If  anyone 

Would  make  reprisal  for  the  Thracian  steeds 

Of  bloody  Diomede,  I  shall  be  given  1 790 

To  feed  those  cruel  herds.     Juno  perchance 

Will  be  by  passion  pricked  to  seek  revenge. 

Now  all  her  anger  will  be  turned  on  me; 

For,  though  her  soul  no  longer  is  disturbed 

Because  of  Hercules,  I  still  am  left, 

Her  hated  rival.     Ah,  what  punishment 

Will  she  inflict,  in  fear  lest  I  bring  forth  1 795 

Another  son !     The  mighty  Hercules 

Has  made  my  womb  a  thing  of  terror  still. 

Where  shall  Alcmena  take  herself?     What  place, 

What  region  of  the  universe  will  keep, 


Hercules    Oetaeus  279 

What  hitling-place  conceal  thy  mother  now, 

Since  she  is  known  through  thee  in  every  land? 

Shall  I  return  unto  my  native  shores, 

My  wretched  lares?     There  Eurystheus  reigns.  1800 

Shall  I  seek  out  my  husband's  city,  Thebes, 

Ismenus'  stream,  and  my  own  bridal  bed 

Where  once,  beloved,  I  saw  great  Jupiter? 

Oh,  happy,  far  too  happy  had  I  been, 

If  I  myself,  like  Semele,  had  felt 

The  blasting  presence  of  the  thundering  Jove! 

Oh,  would  that  from  my  womb  Alcides,  too,  1805 

Untimely  had  been  torn!     But  now  'tis  given, 

"lis  given  to  see  my  son  with  mighty  Jove 

Vying  in  praise;  would  that  this  might  be  given, 

To  know  from  what  fate  he  could  rescue  me. 

What  people  now  will  live  remembering  thee, 

O  son?     Ungrateful  are  they  all  alike.  1810 

Cleonae  shall  I  seek  ?  the  Arcadians, 

And  the  lands  ennobled  by  thy  mighty  deeds? 

Here  fell  the  serpent  dire,  here  monstrous  birds, 

Here  fell  the  bloody  king;  and  here,  subdued 

By  thy  righl  hand,  the  lion,  who  in  heaven 

Is  given  a  place,  whilst  thou  in  earth  remain'st.  1815 

If  earth  is  grateful,  then  let  every  race 

Defend  Alcmena  for  thy  sake.     Shall  I 

To  Thracian  peoples  go,  to  Hebrus'  tribes? 

For  this  land,  too,  was  by  thy  mighty  works 

Defended.     Low  the  bloody  stables  lie, 

And  low  the  kingdom;  peace  was  granted  it,  1X20 

What  time  the  cruel  king  was  overthrown. 

What  land,  indeed,  lias  not  gained  peace  through  thee? 

Where  shall  I  seek   for  thee  a  sepulcher, 

Unhappy,  aged  woman  thai  I  am  ? 

Let  all  the  world  contend  for  these  remains 

Collected  from  the  pyre  of  HercuL 

What  race,  what  temples,  or  what  nations  ask 

For  them  ?     Who  asks  to  have  Alcmena's  load  ?  1825 

What  sepulcher,  ( >  son,  what  tomb  for  thee 

1-  great  enough  ?     Naught  save  the  world  itself; 


a8o  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  lasting  fame  shall  be  thine  epitaph. 
But  why,  O  soul  of  mine,  art  thou  in  fear? 

Thou  hast  the  ashes  of  thy  Hercules. 

Embrace  his  bones,  and  they  will  give  thee  help, 

Will  be  thy  sure  defense.     For  e'en  the  shade  1830 

Of  great  Alcides  will  make  kings  afraid. 
Philoctclrs:  O  mother  of  illustrious  Hercules, 

Restrain  the  tears  thou  deemest  due  thy  son; 

For  neither  grieving  tears  nor  mournful  prayers 

Should  follow  him  who  by  his  noble  worth 

;  Has  forced  his  way  to  heaven  in  spite  of  fate. 

Alcides'  deathless  valor  checks  your  tears.  1835 

Alcmrna:     Why  should  I  bate  my  grief  ?     For  I  have  lost 

My  savior,1  yea,  the  savior  of  the  land 

And  sea,2  and  wheresoe'er  the  shining  day 

From  his  resplendent  car,  in  east  or  west, 

Looks  down  upon  the  earth.     How  many  sons 

In  him,  O  wretched  mother,  have  I  lost!  1840 

Without  a  kingdom,  I  could  kingdoms  give. 

I  only,  'midst  all  mothers  of  the  earth, 

Had  never  need  of  prayer;  naught  from  the  gods 

I  asked,  while  Hercules  remained  alive; 

For  what  could  his  devotion  not  bestow  ? 

WTiat  god  in  heaven  could  e'er  deny  me  aught  ?  1845 

In  my  own  hands  was  answer  of  my  prayer; 

For  what  great  Jove  denied,  Alcides  gave. 

WTiat  mortal  mother  e'er  bore  such  a  son  ? 

A  mother  once  with  grief  was  turned  to  stone, 

When,  'midst  her  brood  of  fourteen  children  slain, 

She  stood,  one  mother,  and  bewailed  them  all.  1850 

To  many  families  like  hers  my  son 

Could  be  compared.     Till  now  for  mother's  grief 

A  measure  vast  enough  could  not  be  found; 

But  now  will  I,  Alcmena,  furnish  it. 

Then  cease,  ye  mothers,  though  persistent  grief 

Till  now  has  bidden  you  weep;  though  heavy  woe  1855 

Has  turned  your  hearts  to  stone;  and  yield  you  all 

Unto  my  woes. 

1  Reading,  vindicem  amisi.  *  Reading,  lerrae  atque  pelagi. 


Hercules    Oetaeus  281 

Then  come,  ye  wretched  hands, 
And  beat  this  age*d  breast.     But  can  it  be 
That  thou  alone  canst  for  so  great  a  loss 

Lament,  so  old  and  worn,  which'  all  the  world  [860 

Will  presently  attempt?     Yet  raise  thy  arms, 
However  weary,  to  their  mournful  task. 
And  to  thy  wailing  summon  all  the  earth, 
And  so  excite  the  envy  of  the  gods. 
[Here  follows  Alcmena's  formal  song  of  mourning,  accompanied  by  the 
usual  Oriental  gestures  of  grief.} 

Bewail  Alcmena's  son,  the  seed 

Of  Jove,  for  whose  conception,  long,  1865 

Day  perished  and  the  lingering  dawn 

Combined  two  nights  in  one.     But  now 

A  greater  than  the  day  is  dead. 

Ye  nations,  join  in  common  grief, 

Whose  cruel  lords  he  bade  descend 

To  Stygian  realms,  and  lay  aside  1870 

Their  red  swords  reeking  with  the  blood 

Of  subject  peoples.     With  your  tears 

Repay  his  services;  let  earth, 

The  whole  round  earth,  with  woe  resound. 

Let  sea-girt  Crete  bewail  him,  Crete, 

The  Thunderer's  beloved  land;  1875 

Beat,  beat  your  breasts,  ye  hundred  tribes; 

Ye  Cretans,  Corybantes,  now 

Clash  Ida's  cymbals;  for  'tis  meet 

To  mourn  him  thus.     Now,  now  lament 

His  funeral;  for  low  he  lies,  1880 

A  mate,  O  Crete,  for  Jove  himself. 

Bewail  the  death  of  Hercules, 

Ye  sons  of  Arcady,  whose  race 

Is  older  than  Diana's  birth. 

Let  your  cries  from  high  Parthenius 

And  Nemea's  halls  resound  afar;  1885 

Let  Maenala  re-echo  loud 

Your  sounds  of  woe.     The  bristly  boar 

Within  your  borders  overthrown 

■  Reading,  quod. 


28a  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Demands  lament  for  Hercules; 

And  the  monster  of  Stympnalus'  pool, 

Whose  spreading  wings  shut  out  the  day, 

By  greal  Ah  ides'  arrows  slain.  1890 

Weep  thou,  Cleonae,  weep  and  wail 

For  him;  for  once  the  lion  huge 

Which  held  your  walls  in  terror,  he, 

By  his  strong  hand,  o'ercame  and  slew. 

Y^e  Thracian  matrons,  beat  your  breasts, 

And  let  cold  Hebrus  resound  to  your  beating.  1895 

Lament  for  Alcides:  no  longer  your  children 

Are  born  for  the  stables;  no  longer  your  vitals 

Wild  horses  devour.     O  ye  African  lands, 

From  Antaeus  delivered,  ye  regions  of  Spain 

From  Geryon  saved,  come,  weep  for  your  hero.  1900 

Yea,  all  ye  wretched  nations,  weep 

With  me  and  smite  your  breasts  in  woe, 

And  let  your  blows  be  heard  afar, 

By  eastern  and  by  western  shores. 

Ye  dwellers  in  the  whirling  sky, 

Ye  gods  above,  do  ye,  too,  weep 

The  fate  of  Hercules;  for  he  1905 

J  Your  heavens  upon  his  shoulders  bore, 

When  Atlas,  who  was  wont  to  bear 
■  The  spangled  skies,  was  eased  awhile 

Of  his  vast  load.     Where  now,  O  Jove, 
'  Is  the  promised  palace  of  the  sky,  19 10 

Those  heavenly  heights  ?     Alcides  dies 

And  is  entombed — the  common  lot. 

How  often  has  he  spared  for  thee 

The  deadly  thunderbolt  of  wrath ! 

How  seldom  wast  thou  forced  to  hurl 

Thy  fires !     But  hurl  'gainst  me  at  least 

One  shaft,  and  think  me  Semele.  19 15 

And  now,  O  son,  hast  thou  obtained 

The  fields  Elysian,  the  shore 

To  which  the  voice  of  nature  calls 

All  nations  ?     Or  has  gloomy  Styx 

Hemmed  in  thy  way  in  vengeful  wrath 


Hercules    Oetaeus  283 

Because  of  stolen  Cerberus, 

And  in  the  outer  court  of  Dis  1920 

Do  jealous  fates  detain  thee  still  ? 

Oh,  what  a  rout  among  the  shades 

And  frightened  manes  must  there  be ! 

Does  Charon  flee  in  his  ghostly  skiff? 

With  flying  hoofs  do  the  Centaurs  rush  1925 

Through  the  wandering  shades  ?     Does  the  hydra  seek 

In  fear  to  plunge  his  snaky  heads 

'Neath  the  murky  waves?     Do  all  thy  tasks 

Hold  thee  in  fear  ? 

Ah  me!     Ah  me! 

What  foolish,  raving  madness  this! 

I  am  mistaken  quite.     I  know  1930 

The  shades  and  manes  fear  thee  not; 
(  For  neither  does  the  tawny  skin 

Stripped  from  the  fierce  Argolic  beast 

Protect  thy  left  with  its  streaming  mane, 

Nor  do  its  savage  teeth  surround  1935 

Thy  head.     Thy  quiver  with  its  darts 

Thou  hast  given  away,  and  a  weaker  hand 

Will  aim  thy  bow.     Alas,  my  son, 

Unarmed  through  the  shades  thou  tak'st  thy  way; 

And  with  the  shades  shalt  thou  dwell  for  aye. 
The  Voice  of  Hercules  [sounding  from  heaven]:  Why,  since  I  hold  the  1940 
starry  realms  of  sky, 
And  have  at  last  attained  a  heavenly  seat, 
Dost  thou  by  wailing  bid  me  feel  again 
Mortality  ?     Give  o'er,  since  valor  now 
Has  made  for  me  a  passage  to  the  gods. 
Alcmena  [bewildered]:  Whence  fall  upon  my  startled  ears 

These  sounds  ?     Whence  come  these  thunder  tones 

That  bid  me  check  my  tears  ?     Ah,  now  1945 

I  know  that  chaos  is  o'ercome. 

From  Styx  art  thou  once  more  returned, 

O  son  ?     And  hast  thou  once  again 

Vanquished  the  grizzly  power  of  death  ? 

Hast  thou  escaped  the  grim  abode 

Of  death  once  more,  the  gloomy  pools 


-s4  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Where  sailed  ihe  dark  infernal  skiff?  1950 

^  Does  Acheron's  wan  stream  allow- 
To  thee  alone  a  backward  way? 

Ami  after  death  has  greedy  fate 

No  hold  upon  thy  dauntless  soul  ? 

Perchance  thy  way  to  hell  was  barred 

By  Pluto's  self,  who  trembled  sore 

For  his  own  realm  ?     Upon  the  pyre  1955 

Of  blazing  woods  I  saw  thee  lie; 

While  to  the  stars  the  raging  flames 

Shot  up.     Thou  wast  indeed  consumed. 

Then  why  does  not  the  far  abode 

Of  death  retain  thy  spirit  still  ?  i960 

What  part  of  thee  do  trembling  manes  fear  ? 
Is  e'en  thy  shade  too  terrible  for  Dis  ? 
Hercules  [his  form  now  taking  shape  in  the  air  above]:  The  pools  of 
grim  Cocytus  hold  me  not, 
Nor  has  the  dusky  skiff  contained  my  ghost. 
Then  cease  thy  mourning,  mother;  once  for  all 
Have  I  beheld  the  manes  and  the  shades.  1965 

The  mortal  part  of  me,  the  part  thou  gav'st, 
Was  by  the  overmastering  flames  consumed; 
Thy  part  to  fire,  my  father's  part  to  heaven 
Has  been  consigned.     Then  cease  thy  loud  laments, 
Which  it  were  fitting  to  a  worthless  son 

To  give.     To  inglorious  souls  such  grief  is  due;  1970 

For  courage  heavenward  tends;  base  fear,  to  death. 
Hear  now,  as  from  the  stars  I  prophesy: 
Soon  shall  the  bloody  king,  Eurystheus,  pay 
Fit  penalty  to  thee  for  all  his  deeds; 
For  over  his  proud  head  shalt  thou  be  borne 
In  thy  triumphant  car.     But  now  'tis  meet 
That  I  return  to  the  celestial  realms;  1975 

Alcides  once  again  has  conquered  hell. 
[He  vanishes  jrom  sight.] 
Alcmena:    Stay  but  a  little — ah,  from  my  fond  eyes 
He  has  departed,  gone  again  to  heaven. 
Am  I  deceived,  and  do  my  eyes  but  dream 
They  saw  my  son  ?     My  soul  for  very  grief 


Hercules    Oetaeus  285 

Is  faithless  still.     Not  so,  thou  art  a  god,  1980 

And  holdest  even  now  the  immortal  skies. 
I  trust  thy  triumph  still.     But  quickly  now 
Unto  the  realm  of  Thebes  will  I  repair, 
And  proudly  tell  thy  new-made  godhead  there. 

[Exit.] 
Chorus:  Never  is  glorious  manhood  borne 

To  Stygian  shades.     The  brave  live  on, 

Nor  over  Lethe's  silent  stream  1985 

Shall  they  by  cruel  fate  be  drawn. 

But  when  life's  days  are  all  consumed, 

And  comes  the  final  hour,  for  them 

A  pathway  to  the  gods  is  spread 

By  glory. 

Be  thou  with  us  yet, 

O  mighty  conqueror  of  beasts,  1990 

Subduer  of  the  world.     Oh,  still 

Have  thought  unto  this  earth  of  ours. 

And  if  some  strange,  new  monster  come 

And  fill  the  nations  with  his  dread, 

Do  thou  with  forked  lightnings  crush 

The  beast;  yea,  hurl  thy  thunderbolts  1995 

More  mightily  than  Jove  himself. 


THYESTES 


THYESTES 

DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 
Thyestes  .   Brother  of  Atreus,  in  exile  from  his  fatherland. 
The  Ghost  oj  Tantalus.    Doomed  for  his  sins  to  come  back  to  earth  and 

inspire  his  house  to  greater  sin. 
The  Fury  .    .Who  drives  the  ghost  on  to  do  his  allotted  part. 
Atreus    .    .    .King  of  Argos,  grandson  of  Tantalus,  who  has  quarreled 

with  his  brother  and  driven  him  into  exile. 

An  Attendant  oj  Atreus. 

Three  sons  oj  Thyestes:   Only  one  of  whom,  Tantalus,  takes  part  in  the 
dialogue. 

A  Messenger. 

Chorus     .    .   Citizens  of  Mycenae. 

The  scene  is  laid  partly  without  the  city  of  Argos,  and  partly  within 
the  royal  palace. 


Pclops,  the  son  of  Tantalus,  had  banished  his  sons  for  the  murder  of 
their  half-brother,  Crysippus,  with  a  curse  upon  them,  that  they  and  their 
posterity  might  perish  by  each  others1  hands.  Upon  the  death  of  Pelops, 
Atreus  rtturned  and  took  possession  of  his  father's  throne.  Thyestes,  also, 
claimed  the  throne,  and  sought  to  gain  it  by  the  foulest  means.  For  he  seduced 
his  brother's  wife,  A'erope,  and  stole  by  her  assistance  the  magical,  gold-fleeced 
ram  from  Atreus'  flocks,  upon  the  possession  of  which  the  right  to  rule  was 
said  to  rest.     For  this  act  he  was  banished  by  the  king. 

But  Atreus  has  long  been  meditating  a  more  complete  revenge  upon  his 
brother;  and  now  in  pretended  friendship  has  recalled  him  from  banishment, 
offering  him  a  place  beside  himself  upon  the  throne,  that  thus  he  may  have 
Thyestes  entirely  in  his  power. 


ACT  I 

The  Ghost  oj  Tantalus:  Who  from  th'  accursdd  regions  of  the  dead, 

Hath  haled  me  forth,  where  greedily  I  strive 

To  snatch  the  food  that  ever  doth  escape 

My  hungry  lips?     Who  now  to  Tantalus 

Doth  show  those  heavenly  seats  which  once  before 

I  saw  to  my  undoing  ?     Can  it  be 

That  some  more  fearful  suffering  than  thirst 

In  sight  of  water,  worse  that*  gaping  want,  5 

Hath  been  devised  ?     Must  I  the  slippery  stone 

Of  Sisyphus  upon  my  shoulders  bear? 

Must  I  be  stretched  upon  the  whirling  wheel, 

Or  suffer  Tityus'  pangs,  who,  lying  prone 

Within  a  huge  recess,  the  grewsome  birds  10 

Doth  with  his  quivering,  torn-out  vitals  feed  ? 

By  night  renewing  what  the  day  hath  lost, 

He  lies,  an  undiminished  feast  for  all. 

For  what  new  evil  am  I  now  reserved  ? 

O  thou  grim  judge  of  shades,  who'er  thou  art 

Who  to  the  dead  doth  mete  new  punishments! 

If  thou  canst  still  some  suffering  devise  15 

Whereat  grim  Cerberus  himself  would  quake, 
j  And  gloomy  Acheron  be  seized  with  fear, 

At  whose  dread  sight  e'en  I  would  tremble  sore:/ 

Seek  such  a  punishment;  for  from  my  seed  ^ 

Is  sprung  a  race  which  shall  their  house  outvie  20 

In  sin,  shall  make  me  innocent  appear, 

And  dare  to  do  what  I  have  never  darcdil 

Whatever  space  within  the  impious  realms 

Remains  unoccupied,  my  house  shall  fill. 

While  lives  the  race  of  Pelops  on  the  earth, 

No  rest  shall  Minos  know. 
The  Fury:  Thou  cursed  shade, 

\  Be  gone,  and  to  the  verge  of  mailing  drive 

Thine  impious  house.     Be  drawn  the  deadly  sword  25 

To  every  crime  upraised,  by  every  hand; 

291 


292 


Thk    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Of  angry  passions  Let  there  be  no  end, 

Xo  shame  of  strife;  let  blinded  fury's  Sting 

Prick  on  their  souls;  Beared  by  the  breath  of  rage 

May  parents'  hearts  grow  hard,  and  endless  crime 
To  childrens'  children  drag  its  impious  trail. 
Mo  time  be  given  to  hate  their  former  crimes;  30 

But  let  the  new  in  quick  succession  rise, 
Not  one  alone  in  each;  and  may  their  crimes, 
E'en  while  they  suffer  punishment,  increase. 
Let  the  throne  fall  from  the  haughty  brothers'  grasp, 
And  call  them  back  from  exiled  wanderings. 
JLet  the  tottering  fortune  of  this  bloody  house, 
Amid  its  changing  kings  in  ruins  fall. 

Bring  him  of  high  estate  to  wretchedness,  35 

The  wretched  raise;  and  let  the  kingdom  toss 
Upon  the  seething  tide  of  circumstance. 
By  crime  driven  out,  when  God  shall  bring  them  home, 
May  they  return  but  to  still  other  crimes, 
And  by  all  men  as  by  themselves  be  loathed. 
Let  nothing  be  which  wrath  deems  unallowed: 

ILet  brother  brother  fear,  and  parent  child;  40 

Let  son  fear  father;  let  the  children  die 
An  evil  death — by  doubly  evil  birth 
Be  born.     Let  wives  against  their  husbands  lift 
Their  murderous  hands.     Let  wars  pass  over  seas, 
And  every  land  be  drenched  with  streams  of  blood. 
Triumphant  o'er  the  mighty  kings  of  earth, 
Let  Lust  exult;  and  in  thy  sinful  house,  45 

Let  vile,  incestuous  deeds  seem  trivial. 
Let  justice,  faith,  fraternal  amity 
Be  trampled  underfoot;  and  of  our  sins 
Let  not  the  heavens  themselves  escape  the  taint. 
Why  gleam  the  constellations  in  the  sky, 

And  flash  their  wonted  glories  to  the  world  ?  50 

Be  pitchy  black  the  night,  and  let  the  day 
Fall  fainting  from  the  heavens  and  be  no  more. 
Embroil  thy  household  gods,  rouse  murderous  hate, 
1  And  all  the  palace  fill  with  Tantalus. 
Adorn  the  lofty  columns;  let  the  door's, 


T  n  y  e  s  t  e  s  293 


With  verdant  laural  decked,  proclaim  their  joy; 
Let  torches  gleam  in  celebration  meet  55 

Of  thy  return — then  let  the  Thracian  crime 
Be  done  again,  but  triply  hideous. 
Why  stays  the  uncle's  hand  in  idleness  ? 
Not  yet  Thyestes  weeps  his  murdered  sons. 
When  will  he  act  ?     The  kettles  o'er  the  fires 
Should  even  now  be  boiling,  severed  limbs  60 

iBe  broken  up,  the  father's  hearth  be  stained 
With  children's  blood,  the  festal  tables  spread. 
But  at  no  untried  carnival  of  crime 
Wilt  thou  sit  down  as  guest.     This  day  be  free, 
And  sate  thy  hunger  at  that  festal  board; 
Go  eat  thy  fill,  and  drink  the  blood  and  wine  65 

Commingled  in  thy  sight.     A  banquet  this, 
Which  thou  thyself  wouldst  look  in  horror  on. — 
But  stay  thee.     Whither  dost  thou  rush  away  ? 
Tantalus:    Back  to  my  pools  and  streams  and  ebbing  waves, 
Back  to  that  tree  whose  ever-mocking  fruit 
Eludes  my  lips.     Oh,  let  me  seek  again 

The  gloomy  couch  of  my  old  prison -house;  70 

And  if  too  little  wretched  I  appear, 
Bid  me  my  river  change.     Within  thy  stream, 
O  Phlegethon,  hemmed  round  with  waves  of  fire, 
Let  me  be  left  to  suffer. 

Ye,  whoe'er 
By  fate's  decrees  are  doomed  to  punishment, 
Whoe'er  thou  art  who  'neath  the  hollowed  cave  75 

)  Dost  lie,  in  constant  fear  lest  even  now 
The  cavern's  mass  shall  fall  upon  thy  head; 
Whoever  fears  the  gaping,  greedy  jaws 
Of  lions,  and  in  helpless  horror  looks 
Upon  the  advancing  furies'  cruel  lines; 
Whoe'er,  half  burned,  their  threat'ning  lurches  slums: 
Oh,  listen  to  the  voice  of  Tantalus  80 

Fast  speeding  to  your  realm;  believe  the  words 
Of  one  who  knows,  and  love  your  punishment. 
But  now — Oh,  when  shall  it  be  mine  to  flee 
This  upper  world  ? 


204  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

The  Fury:  First  musl  thou  plunge  thy  house 

In  dirt  disorders,  stir  up  deadly  finds, 

Wake  the  kini^s  to  evil  lust  for  blood, 

And  rouse  to  wild  amaze  their  maddened  hearts.  85 

Tantalus:   "I'is  fit  that  1  should  Buffer,  not  bestow, 

The  punishment.     Hut  thou  wouldst  have  me  go, 
\  Like  deadly  vapor  from  the  riven  earth, 

I  )i  like  the  plague  amongsl  the  people  spread, 

And  lead  my  grandsons  into  crime  most  foul. 

0  mighty  sire  of  gods,  my  sire  as  well,  90 
Although  'tis  shame  to  thee  to  own  me  son, 

Though  cruel  tortures  seize  my  tattling  tongue, 

1  will  not  hold  my  peace: 

[He  cries  aloud  as  to  his  family.] 
I  warn  ye  all, 
Siain  not  your  kindred  hands  with  sacred  blood, 
And  with  no  madman's  gifts  pollute  the  shrines. 
Lo,  here  I  stand,  and  shall  avert  the  deed.  95 

[To  the  Fury.] 
Why  dost  thou  fright  me  with  thy  brandished  scourge, 
And  shake  thy  writhing  serpents  in  my  face  ? 
Why  in  mine  inmost  marrow  dost  thou  rouse 
These  gnawing  hunger  pangs?     My  very  heart 
Is  parched  with  burning  thirst,  and  leaping  flames 
Dart  scorching  through  my  vitals — Oh,  desist; 
I  yield  me  to  thy  will.  100 

The  Fury:  Then  fix  this  thirst, 

(This  maddening  thirst  in  all  thy  kindred  here; 
So,  e'en  as  thou,  may  they  be  driven  on 
To  quench  their  thirst  each  in  the  others'  blood. 
But  lo,  thy  house  perceives  thy  near  approach, 
And  shrinks  in  horror  from  thy  loathsome  touch. 
But  now  enough.     Do  thou  go  back  again  105 

To  thine  infernal  caves  and  'customed  stream; 
For  here  the  sad  earth  groans  beneath  thy  feet. 
Dost  thou  not  see  how,  driven  far  within, 
The  waters  flee  their  springs  ?  how  river  banks 
Are  empty,  and  the  fiery  wind  drives  on 
The  scattered  clouds  ?     The  trees  grow  sickly  pale, 


T  H  Y  E  S  T  E  S  295 


Their  branches  hang  denuded  of  their  fruits;  no 

And  where  but  late  the  Isthmus  echoed  back 
The  loud  resounding  waters  near  at  hand, 
Their  neighboring  waves  by  but  a  narrow  span 
Dividing,  now  have  all  the  waves  withdrawn 
Far  seaward,  and  their  voice  is  faintly  heard 
Upon  the  shore.     Now  Lerna  backward  shrinks,  115 

The  streams  of  Inachus  have  hidden  away, 
The  sacred  Alpheus  sends  his  waters  forth 
No  longer,  and  Cithaeron  lifts  no  more 
Its  hoary  head,  for  all  its  snows  are  gone; 
While  they  who  dwell  in  noble  Argos  fear 
Their  ancient  thirst  again.     E'en  Titan's  self 
fStands  doubtful  whether  he  shall  bid  his  steeds  120 

Run  their  accustomed  course  and  bring  the  day, 
Foredoomed  by  thee  to  perish  on  the  way. 
[They  vanish.] 


Chorus:  If  any  god  for  Argos  cares, 

And  Pisa's  realm  for  chariots  famed; 

If  any  loves  the  Isthmian  state 

Of  Corinth,  with  its  double  ports, 

And  two  opposing  seas;  125 

If  any  joys  in  the  far-seen  snows 

Of  Mount  Taygetus,  which  lie 

Heaped  on  his  loftiest  peaks  what  time 

The  wintry  blasts  of  Boreas  blow, 
,But  which  the  summer  melts  again 
)  When  breathe  the  soft  Etesian  winds, 

Sail  filling;  if  the  Alpheus  bright 

With  its  cool,  clear  stream  moves  any  god,  130 

Far  famed  for  its  Olympic  course — 

Let  him  his  peaceful  godhead  turn 

To  our  affairs;  let  him  avert 

This  dread  inheritance  of  crime; 

Forbid  that  in  his  grandsire's  steps 

The  grandson  follow,  worse  than  he; 

And  let  not  worse  monstrosities 

Please  generations  yet  to  be.  135 


296  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

( >li.  may  at  last  the  impious  rati' 
Of  thirsty   Tantalus  give  "Vi- 
lli utter  weariness  its  lust 
For  savage  deeds.     Enough  of  sin  I 
No  longer  does  the  right  prevail, 
And  wrong  is  general:     Behold, 
As  Mynilus  his  l<>r<l  betrayed, 

He,  too,  was  treacherously  slain;  140 

For  by  that  selfsame  broken  faith 
Which  he  had  shown,  himself  o'ercomc,1 
He  fell  into  the  sea  and  changed 
Its  name  for  his.     Amidst  the  ships 
That  sail  the  Ionian  sea,  no  tale 
Is  better  known. 

See  now,  while  runs  the  little  son 

To  meet  his  father's  kiss,  he  falls  145 

By  that  accursed  sword  transfixed, 
Untimely  victim  at  thy  hearth, 
And  carved,  O  Tantalus,  by  thee, 
That  so  thou  mightest  grace  the  board 
Of  friendly  gods.     That  impious  feast 
Eternal  hunger,  endless  thirst 

Rewarded;  penalty  more  fit  150 

For  such  a  crime  could  not  be  found. 
See  where,  with  gaping  throat,  forespent, 
Stands  Tantalus;  above  his  head 
Hang  many  luscious  fruits;  but,  swift 
As  Phineus'  birds,  they  flee  his  grasp; 
On  every  side  the  tree  droops  low, 

With  heavy-laden  boughs,  o'erweighed  155 

By  its  own  fruit,  and  mockingly 
Sways  to  his  straining  lips.     Yet  he, 
Though  with  impatient  longing  filled, 
As  often  mocked,  so  often  fails 
To  grasp  the  prize;  he  turns  away 

His  longing  gaze,  strains  close  his  lips,  160 

And  grimly  bars  his  hunger  fast 
Behind  his  teeth.     But  still  again 

1  Reading,  rectus. 


Thyestes  297 


The  whole  grove  lets  its  riches  down, 

And  flaunts  them  in  his  face,  soft  fruits 

On  drooping  boughs,  and  whets  once  more 

His  hunger,  bidding  stretch  again  165 

His  hands — but  all  in  vain.     For  now, 

When  it  has  lured  him  on  to  hope, 

And  mocked  its  fill,  the  boughs  recede, 

And  the  whole  ripe  harvest  of  the  wood 

Is  snatched  far  out  of  reach. 

Then  comes  a  raging  thirst  more  fierce 

Than  hunger,  which  inflames  his  blood,  170 

And  with  its  parching  fires  burns  up 

Its  moisture.     There  the  poor  wretch  stands, 

Striving  to  quaff  the  nearby  waves; 

But  the  fleeing  waters  whirl  away, 

And  leave  but  the  empty  bed  to  him 

Who  seeks  to  follow.     Quick  he  quaffs 

At  that  swift  stream,  but  to  drink — the  dust.  175 

ACT  II 

}.\trcus  [in  soliloquy]:  O  soul,  so  sluggish,  spiritless,  and  weak, 
j\nd  (what  in  kings  I  deem  the  last  reproach) 
]  Still  unavenged,  after  so  many  crimes, 
.Thy  brother's  treacheries,  and  every  law 
\  Of  nature  set  at  naught,  canst  vent  thy  wrath 
In  vain  and  meaningless  complaints?     By  now 
The  whole  wide  world  should  be  astir  with  arms,  180 

Thy  arms,  and  on  both  seas  thy  ships  of  war 
Should  swarm;  the  fields  and  towns  should  be  ablaze, 
And  gleaming  swords  should  everywhere  be  seen. 
Beneath  our  charging  squadrons'  thundering  tread 
Let  Greece  resound;  let  this  my  enemy 

Within  no  forest's  depths  a  hiding  find.  185 

No  citadel  upon  the  mountain  heights 
Shall  shelter  him.     Let  all  the  citizens, 
Mycenae  leaving,  sound  the  trump  of  war. 
Whoe'er  grants  refuge  to  that  curseVl  head. 
(Shall  die  a  dreadful  death.     This  noble  pile, 
The  home  of  our  illustrious  Pelops'  line,  190 


2o8 


Tiie    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


I  would  might  fall  on  me,  if  only  thus 

It  might  destroy  my  hated  brother  too. 

"   But  conic,  my  soul,  do  what  no  coming  age        . 

Shall  e'er  approve — or  e'er  forget ;  sonic  deed  / 

Must  be  attempted,  impious,  bloody,  dire^ 

Such  as  my  brother's  self  rnight  claim  as  his. 

No  crimejjj  ■■)  vended  save  by  a  greater  crime.  195 

"But  where  the  crime  that  can  surpass  hisTTeeds? 

Is  he  yet  crushed  in  spirit  ?     Does  he  show 

In  prosperous  circumstances  self-control, 

Contentment  in  defeat  ?     Full  well  I  know 

His  tameless  spirit;  it  can  ne'er  be  bent — 

But  can  be  broken.     Then,  before  his  force  200 

He  strengthens  and  opposing  powers  prepares, 

We  must  the  attack  begin,  lest,  while  we  wait, 

He  strike  us  unprepared.     For  well  I  know 

That  he  must  either  slay  me  or  be  slain 

By  me      There  lies  the  crime  between  us  two: 

Who  leaps  to  grasp  it  first,  the  crime  shall  do. 
Attendant:  But  does  the  evil  fame  of  such  a  deed 

Deter  you  not  ? 
Atreus:  The  greatest  blessing  this 

Of  royal  power,  that  men  are  forced  to  praise '  205 

Their  monarchs'  deeds  as  well  as-  bear  them. 
Attendant:  Yea, 

But  they  whose  praise  is  forced  by  fear  become 
\&y  that  same  fear  in  turn  the  bitterest  foes. 

But  he  who  seeks  the  people's  heartfelt  praise, 

Will  wish  their  hearts  and  not  their  tongues  to  speak.  210 

Atreus:        True  praise  may  often  fall  to  humble  men, 

But  false  alone  to  kings.     Let  subjects  learn 

To  want  what  they  would  not. 
Attendant:  Let  monarchs  learn 

To  choose  the  right;  then  all  will  choose  the  same. 
Atreus:        When  kings  are  forced  to  choose  the  right  alone, 

Their  rule  is  insecure. 
Attendant:  Where  is  no  shame, 

No  thought  of  righteousness,  no  piety,  215 

No  faith,  no  purity,  Oh,  then  indeed 


T  II  Y  E  S  T  E  S  299 


That  rule  is  insecure. 

Atrciis:  But  purity, 

Faith,  piety,  are  private  virtues  all; 
With  kings,  their  will  is  law. 

Attendant:  Oh,  count  it  wrong 

To  harm  thy  brother,  though  he  basest  be. 

Atreus:        Whatever  may  not  lawfully  be  done  220 

To  brothers,  may  with  perfect  right  be  done 
To  him.     What  is  there  left  me  now  unstained 
By  crime  of  his  ?     Where  has  he  failed  to  sin  ? 
My  wife  has  he  debauched,  my  kingdom  stolen, 
The  ancient  emblem  of  our  dynasty 
By  fraud  obtained,  and  all  our  royal  house 
By  that  same  fraud  in  dire  confusion  plunged. 
There  is  a  flock  within  our  royal  stalls,  225 

Rich  fleeced  and  nobly  bred,  and  with  the  flock 
A  ram,  their  leader,  wondrous,  magical; 
For  from  his  body  thickly  hangs  a  fleece 
Of  fine-spun  gold,  with  which  the  new-crowned  kings 
Of  Pelops'  line  are  wont  t'  adom  their  scepters. 
Who  owns  the  ram  is  king,  for  with  his  fate  230 

The  fortunes  of  our  noble  house  are  linked. 
This  sacred  ram  in  safety  feeds  apart 
Within  a  mead  whose  fateful  bounds  are  fenced 
By  stony  walls,  and  kept  with  gate  of  stone. 
Him,  greatly  daring,  did  my  brother  steal, 
Perfidious,  with  my  wife  in  secret  league  235 

Of  crime.     And  this  has  been  the  fountain  spring 
Of  all  my  woes;  throughout  my  kingdom's  length 
Have  I  a  trembling  exile  wandered  long, 
And  found  no  place  of  safety  from  his  snares; 
My  wife  has  he  defiled,  my  subjects'  faith 
And  loyalty  destroyed,  my  house  o'erthrown, 
All  ties  of  kinship  broken,  and  nothing  left  240 

Of  which  I  may  be  sure  save  only  this — 
My  brother's  enmity.     Why  do  I  stand 
In  stupid  inactivity?     At  length 
Bestir  thyself,  and  gird  thy  courage  up. 
Think  thou  on  Pelops  and  on  Tantalus; 


300  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Such  deeds  as  theirs  must  by  my  hands  be  done. 
.;  [To  Attendant.] 

)  Tell  thou  mc  then  how  vengeance  may  be  won. 
Attendant:  Drive  out  his  hostile  spirit  with  the  Bword.  245 

Atreus:       Thou  speakest  of  the  end  of  punishment. 
But  1  the  punishment  itself  desire.  * 

Lej  easy-going  rulers  slay  their  foes:  / 

In_my  domain  death  is  a  longed-for  lxion.  "* 
Attendant:  Do  pious  motives  stir  thee  not  at  all"? 
Atreus:        Away,  O  Piety,  if  ever  thou 

Didst  dwell  within  my  house,  and  in  thy  stead 

Let  come  dire  furies'  cohorts,  fiends  at  war,  250 

Megaera  holding  high  in  either  hand 

Her  flaming  torch;  for  with  a  mighty  rage 

'Tis  not  enough  my  heart  should  lie  inflamed:') 

I  fain  WQiild  he  hy  gre.nter  horrors  filled 

Attendant:  What  new  design  does  thy  mad  soul  conceive? 

Atreus:      [No  deed  within  the  accustomed  bounds  of  grief.  255 

I'll  leave  no  crime  undone;  and  vet  no  crime. 

Is  bad  enough  for  me. 
Attendant:  Wilt  use  the  sword  ? 

Atreus:        'Tis  not  enough. 
Attendant:  The  flames? 

Atreus:  Still  not  enough. 

Attendant:  What  weapon  then  will  thy  mad  passion  use? 
Atreus:        Thyestes'  self. 

Attendant:  Far  worse  than  madness  this. 

Atreus:        I  do  confess  it.     Deep  within  my  heart,  260 

A  fearful  tumult  rages  unrestrained, 

And  I  am  hurried  on,  I  know  not  where; 

I  only  know  that  I  am  hurried  on. 

From  lowest  depths  a  moaning  sound  is  heard, 

And  thunders  rumble  in  the  cloudless  skies; 

A  crashing  noise  resounds  throughout  the  house 

As  though  'twere  rent  in  twain;  upon  my  hearth 
|  The  frightened  Lares  turn  their  gaze  from  me.  265 

Yet  this  shall  be,  this  awful  thing  shall  be, 

lYe  gods,  which  ye  do  fear  to  think  upon. 
Attendant:  What  then  is  this  which  thou  dost  meditate  ? 


Thyestes 


,OI 


Atreus: 


i 


Some  greater,evil  lurks  within  my  soul, 

And,  monstrous,  swells  beyond  all  human  bounds, 

My  sluggish  hands  impelling  to  the  deed. 

I  know  not  what  it  is;  but  this  I  know, 

That  'tis  some  monstrous  deed.     So  let  it  be.  270 

]  Haste  thee  and  do  this  deed,  O  soul  of  mine! 

'Tis  worthy  of  Thyestes — and  of  me. 

Let  both  perform  it  then.     The  Odrysian  house 

Was  wont  to  look  on  feasts  unspeakable — 

A  monstrous  thing,  'tis  true,  but  long  ago 

Performed.     This  grief  of  mine  some  greater  sin  275 

Must  find  to  feed  upon.     Do  thou  inspire 

My  heart,  O  Daulian  Procne,  who  didst  know 

A  mother's  and  a  sister's  feelings  too. 

Our  cause  is  similar.     Assist  thou  then, 
i  And  nerve  my  hand  to  act.     Let  once  again 

A  sire  with  joyous  greed  his  children  rend, 

And  hungrily  devour  their  flesh.     'Tis  good, 

'Tis  quite  enough.     This  mode  of  punishment 

So  far  doth  please  me  well.     But  where  is  he?  280 

Why  do  the  hands  of  Atreus  rest  so  long 

Inactive  ?     Even  now  before  mine  eyes 
vThe  perfect  image  of  the  slaughter  comes; 
,1  seem  to  see  the  murdered  children  heaped 

Before  their  father's  face.     O  timid  (soul, 

Why  dost  thou  fear ?     Why  droops  thy  courage  now 

Before  the  deed  is  done  ?     Then  up,  and  dare. 
'Of  this  mad  crime  the  most  revolting  part  285 

Thyestes'  self  shall  do. 

But  by  what  wiles 

Shall  we  unto  our  snares  entice  his  ft 

For  he  doth  count  us  all  his  enemies. 

He  never  could  be  taken,  were  his  will 

Not  bent  on  taking  too.     E'en  now  he  hopes 

To  take  my  kingdom  from  me.     In  this  hope, 

He'll  rush  against  the  bolts  of  threat'ning  Jove;  290 

This  hope  will  make  him  brave  the  whirlpools'  wrath, 

And  sail  within  the  treacherous  Libyan  .shoals; 

On  this  hope  stayed,  the  greatest  ill  of  all 


Attendant 


Atreus: 


T  H  B      T  R  A  G  E  D  IKS     OF      S  B N  E C A 

Will  be  have  strength  to  bear    the  sight  of  me. 
Attendant:  But  who  will  give  him  confidence  in  peace? 

To  whom  will  he  such  weighty  credence  give?  295 

Atrnis:       His  wicked  hope  is  ready  to  believe. 

\Yt  shall  my  sons  this  message  bear  from  me: 

\    a  let  tin-  wretched  exile  roam  no  more. 

But  leave  his  homeless  state  for  royal  halls, 

And  rule  at  Argos,  sharer  of  my  throne. 

But  if  Thyestes  harshly  spurn  my  prayer, 

His  guileless  children,  overspent  with  woes  300 

And  easily  beguiled,  will  bend  his  will 

Unto  their  prayers.     His  ancient  thirst  for  power, 

Together  with  his  present  poverty, 

And  harsh  demands  of  toil  will  move  the  man, 

However  stubborn,  by  their  weight  of  woes. 
Attendant:  But  time  by  nowr  has  made  his  troubles  light.  305 

A  In  ns:        Nay;  sense  of  wrong  increases  day  by  day. 

'Tis  easy  to  bear  hardship  for  a  time; 

But  to  endure  it  long,  an  irksome  task. 
Attendant:  Choose  other  servants  of  thy  grim  design. 
Atrcus:        Young  men  lend  ready  ear  to  base  commands. 
Attendant:  Beware,  lest  what  against  their  uncle  now  310 

Thou  teachest  them,  they  turn  against  their  sire 

In  time  to  come.     Full  oft  do  crimes  recoil 
\  Upon  the  man  who  instigated  them. 
Alreus:        Though  none  should  teach  them  fraud  and  ways  of  crime, 

The  throne  itself  would  teach  them.     Dost  thxaiicar— 

Lest  they  grow  eyjl  ?     Evil  were  they_.bomr« 

What  thoudost  savage,  cruel  call  in  me, 

Dost  deem  impossible  and  impious,  315 

Perchance  my  brother  even  now  doth  plot 

Against  myself. 
Attendant:  Shall  then  thy  children  know 

What  crime  they  do  ? 
Atreus:  Not  so,  for  youthful  years 

Cannot  keep  silent  faith.     They  might  perchance 

Betray  the  trick.     The  art  of  secrecy 

Is  mastered  only  by  the  ills  of  life. 
Attendant:  And  wilt  thou  then  deceive  the  very  ones  320 


Thyestes  303 


Through  whom  thou  plann'st  another  to  deceive? 
Atreus:        That  so  they  may  themselves  be  free  from  guilt. 
For  what  the  need  of  implicating  them 
In  crimes  of  mine?     Nay,  through  my  acts  alone 

Mvhate  shall  work  its  ends.     But  hold,  myisoul, 
/Thou  doest  ill,  thou  shrinkest  from  the  task. 
If  thou  dost  spare  thine  own,  thou  sparest  his  325 

As  well.     So  then  let  Agamemnon  be 
The  conscious  minister  of  my  designs. 
And  wittingly  let  Menelaus  help 
His  father's  plans.     And  by  this  test  of  crime, 
Let  their  uncertain  birth  be  put  to  proof: 
If  they  refuse  to  wage  this  deadly  war, 
And  will  not  serve  my  hatred;  if  they  plead 
He  is  their  uncle — then  is  he  their  sire. 
n  So  let  them  go.     Bytjio !  a  look  of  fear  330 

Has  oft  revealed  the  heart.     And  weighty  plans, 
E'en  'gainst  the  stoutest  will,  betray  themselves. 
They  shall  not  know  of  how  great  consequence 
Their  mission  is. 

[To  Attendant.] 
And  do  thou  hide  it  loo. 
Attendant:  No  warning  do  I  need,  for  in  my  breast 
\lt  shall  be  hid  by  fear  and  loyalty. 
But  more  shall  loyalty  prevail  with  me.  335 


Chorus:  At  last  our  royal  family, 

The  race  of  ancient  Inachus, 
Hath  quelled  the  brothers'  deadly  strife 
What  fatal  madness  drives  you  on 

To  shed  by  turns  each  other's  blood,  340 

And  gain  the  throne  through  paths  of  crime? 
'  »  ye  who  lust  for  regal  state, 
Ye  know  not  where  true  power  is  found; 
Py^  '  For  riches  cannot  make  a  king, 

Nor  Tyrian  garments  richly  dyed,  345 

Nor  royal  crowns  upon  the  brow, 
Xor  portals  glittering  with  gold. 
But  he  is  king  who  knows  no  fear, 


3°4 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


/. 


(Whose  heart  is  free  from  mad  desires; 

Whom  vain  ambition  moveth  Dot, 

Nor  fickle  favor  of  the  mob. 

The  bidden  treasures  of  the  west 

Move  not  bis  heart,  nor  sands  of  gold 

Which  Tagus'  waters  sweep  along 

Within  their  shining  bed; 

Nor  yet  the  garnered  wealth  i>f  grain 

Trod  out  on  Libyan  threshing-floors. 

lie  fears  no  hurtling  thunderbolt 

In  zig-zag  course  athwart  the  sky; 

No  Eurus  ruffling  up  the  sea, 

Nor  the  heaving  Adriatic's  waves, 

Windswept  and  mad  before  the  blast; 

No  hostile  spear,  nor  keen,  bare  sword 

Can  master  him;  but,  set  on  high, 

In  calm  serenity  he  sees 

\A11  things  of  earth  beneath  his  feet. 

And  so  with  joy  he  goes  to  meet 

1  lis  fate,  and  welcomes  death. 

In  vain  'gainst  him  would  kings  contend, 

Though  from  all  lands  they  congregate — 

They  who  the  scattered  Dacians  lead; 

Who  dwell  upon  the  red  sea'b  marge 

Whose  depths  are  set  with  gleaming  pearls; 

Or  who,  secure  on  Caspian  heights, 

Leave  all  unclosed  their  mountain  ways 

Against  the  bold  Sarmatians; 

They  who  through  Danube's  swelling  waves 

Dare  make  their  way  with  fearless  feet, 

And,  wheresoe'er  they  dwell,  despoil 

The  famed  and  far-off  Serians: 

/-  In  vain  all  these,  for  'tis  the  soul 
That  makes  the  king.     He  needs  no  arms, 
iNo  steeds,  no  ineffectual  darts 
/  Such  as  the  Parthian  hurls  from  far 
\  In  simulated  flight;  for  him 
No  engines  huge  with  far-hurled  rocks 
\Lay  waste  the  hostile  city's  walls. 


35° 


355 


360 


365 


37o 


375 


380 


385 


Thyestes  305 


But  he  is  king  who  knows  no  fear, 
j  And  he  is  king  who  has  no  lust; 
And  on  his  throne  secure  he  sits 

vVho  is  self-crowned  by  conscious  worth.  390 

Let  him  who  will,  in  pride  of  power, 
Upon  the  brink  of  empire  stand: 
For  me,  be  sweet  repose  enough ; 
In  liumble  station  fixed,  would  I 

My  life  in  gentle  leisure  spend,  395 

In  silence,  all  unknown  to  fame. 
So  when  my  days  have  passed  away 
From  noisy,  restless  tumult  free, 

[May  I,  in  meek  obscurity  400 

And  full  of  years,  decline  in  death. 
But  death  lies  heavily  on  him 
Who,  though  to  all  the  world  well  known, 
Is  stranger  to  himself  alone. 

ACT  III 

[Enter  Thyestes  returning  from  banishment,  accompanied  by  his  three 

sons.) 
Thyestes:  At  last  do  I  behold  the  welcome  roofs 

Of  this  my  fatherland,  the  teeming  wealth 

Of  Argos,  and,  the  greatest  and  the  best 

Of  sights  to  weary  exiles,  here  I  see  405 

My  native  soil  and  my  ancestral  gods 

(If  gods  indeed  there  be).     And  there,  behold, 

The  sacred  towers  by  hands  of  Cyclops  reared, 

In  beauty  far  excelling  human  art; 

The  race-course  thronged  with  youth,  where  oftentimes 

Have  I  within  my  father's  chariot 

Sped  on  to  victory  and  fair  renown.  410 

Now  will  all  Argos  come  to  welcome  me; 

The  thronging  folk  will  come — and  Atreus  too! 

Oh,  better  far  reseek  thy  wooded  haunts, 

[Thy  glades  remote,  and,  mingled  with  the  brui 

Live  e'en  as  they.      Why  should  this  splendid  realm 

With  its  fair-seeming  glitter  blind  my  eyes?  415 

When  thou  dost  look  upon  the  goodly  gift, 


',o6 


Tim     Tragedies    of    Seneca 


425 


Seas  will  the  giver  too.    Of  late  I  lived 
With  bold  and  joyous  spirit,  though  my  lot 
All  men  considered  hard  to  bear.     Hut  now 
My  heart  is  filled  with  fears,  my  courage  fails; 
And,  bent  on  Bight,  my  feet  unwilling  move.  420 

Tantalus  [one  oj  Thyestes'  sons]:  Why,  ()  my  father,  dost  thou  falter  so 

With  Steps  Uncertain,  turn  away  thy  fail', 

And  hold  thyself  as  on  a  doubtful  Course? 
Thyestes  [in  soliloquy]:  Why  hesitate,  nly  soul,  or  why  so  long 

Deliberate  ujxm  a  point  so  clear? 

To  such  uncertain  things  dost  thou  intrust 
^Thyself  as  throne  and  brother?  And  fearest  thou 

Those  ills  already  conquered  and  found  mild  ? 

Dost  flee  those  cares  which  thou  hast  well  bestowed  ? 

Oh,  now  my  former  wretchedness  is  joy. 

Turn  back,  while  still  thou  mayst,  and  save  thyself 
Tantalus:    What  cause,  O  father,  forces  thee  to  leave 

Thy  native  land  at  last  regained  ?     Why  now, 

When  richest  gifts  are  falling  in  thy  lap, 

Dost  turn  away  ?    Thy  brother's  wrrath  is  o'er; 

And  he  has  turned  himself  once  more  to  thee, 

Has  given  thee  back  thy  share  of  sovereignty, 

Restored  our  shattered  house  to  harmony, 

And  made  thee  master  of  thyself  again. 
Thyestes:  -  Thou  askest  why  I  fear — I  cannot  tell. 
^_No  cause  for  fear  I  see.  but  still  I  fear. 


43° 


435 


I  long  to  go,  and  yet  my  trembling  limbs 
Go  on  with  faltering  steps,  and  I  am  borne 
WTiere  I  most  stoutly  struggle  not  to  go. 
So,  wdien  a  ship  by  oar  and  sail  is  driven, 
The  tide,  resisting  both,  bears  it  away. 

Tantalus:    But  thou  must  overcome  whate'er  it  be 

That  doth  oppose  and  hold  thy  soul  in  check; 
And  see  how  great  rewards  await  thee  here: 
,  Thou  canst  be  king. 

Thyestes:  1  Since  I  have  power  to  die. 

Tantalus:    But  royal  power  is — 

Thyestes:  Naught,  if  only  thou 

No  power  dost  covet. 


440 


T  H  Y  E  S  T  E  S 


307 


A 


e 


Tantalus:  Leave  it  to  thy  sons. 

Thyestes:     No  realm  on  earth  can  stand  divided  power. 

Tantalus:    Should  he,  who  can  be  happy,  still  be  sad  ? 

Thyestes:    Believe  me,  son,  'tis  by  their  lying  names 

.That  things  seem  great,  while  others  harsh  appear 
Which  are  not  truly  so.     When  high  in  power 
jl  stood,  I  never  ceased  to  be  in  fear; 
i  Yea,  even  did  I  fear  the  very  sword 
Upon  my  thigh.     Oh,  what  a  boon  it  is 
To  be  at  feud  with  none,  to  eat  one's  bread 
Without  a  trace  of  care,  upon  the  ground ! 
Crime  enters  not  the  poor  man's  humble  cot; 
And  all  in  safety  may  one  take  his  food 
From  slender  boards;   for  'tis  in  cups_of_gold 
Thatjjoison  lurks — I  speak  what  I  do  know. 
Ill  fortune  is  to  be  preferred  to  good. 
For  since  my  palace  does  not  threatening  stand 
In  pride  upon  some  loftyjnountain  top, 
The  people  fear  me  not;  my  lowering  roofs 
Gleam  not  with  ivory,  nor  do  I  need 
A  watchful  guard  to  keep  me  while  I  sleejx 
I  do  not  fish  with  fleets,  nor  drive  the  sea 
With  massive  dykes  back  from  its  natural  shore; 
I  do  not  gorge  me  at  the  world's  expense; 
For  me  no  fields  remote  are  harvested 
Beyond  the  Getae  and  the  Parthians; 
No  incense  burns  for  me,  nor  are  my  shrines 
Adomed  in  impious  neglect  of  Jove; 
No  forests  wave  upon  my  battlements, 
No  vast  pools  steam  for  my  delight;  my  days 
Are  not  to  slumber  given,  nor  do  I  spend 
The  livelong  night  in  drunken  revelry. 
No  one  feels  fear  of  me,  and  so  my  home, 
Though  all  unguarded,  is  from  danger  free; 
For  poverty  alone  may  be  at  peace. 
And  this  I  hold:  the  mightiest  king  is  he,| 
Who  from  the  lust  of  sovereignty  is  free.   • 

Tantalus:    But  if  some  god  a  kingdom  should  bestow, 
It  is  not  meet  for  mortal  to  refuse: 


445 


45° 


455 


460 


465 


470 


308  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Behold,  thy  brother  bids  thee  to  the  throne. 
Thyestes:    He  bids?    'Tis  but  a  cloak  for  treachery. 
ikUus:    Bui  brotherly  regard  ofttimes  returns 

Onto  the  heart  from  which  it  has  been  driven; 

And  righteous  love  regains  its  former  strength.  475 

Thyestes:    And  dost  thou  speak  of  brother's  love  to  me? 

Sooner  shall  ocean  bathe  the  heavenly  Bears,! 

The  raging  waves  of  Sicily  be  still; 

And  sooner  shall  the  Ionian  waters  yield  v"  ji 

Ripe  fields  of  grain;  black  night  illume  the  earth;  „r 

And  fire  shall  mate  with  water,  life  with  death,  480 

And  winds  shall  make  a  treaty  with  the  sea: 

Than  shall  Thyestes  know  a  brother's  love. 
Tantalus:    What  treachery  dost  thou  fear? 
Thyestes:  All  treachery. 

What  proper  limit  shall  I  give  my  fear  ? 

My  brother's  power  is  boundless  as  his  hate. 
Tantalus:    How  can  he  harm  thee  ? 
Thyestes:  For  myself  alone  485 

I  have  no  fears;  but  'tis  for  you,  my  sons, 

That  Atreus  must  be  held  in  fear  by  me. 
Tantalus:    But  canst  thou  be  o'ercome,  if  on  thy  guard  ? 
Thyestes:    Too  late  one  guards  when  in  the  midst  of  ills. 

But  let  us  on.     In  this  one  thing  I  show 

My  fatherhood:  I  do  not  lead  to  ill, 

But  follow  you. 
Tantalus:  If  well  we  heed  our  ways, 

God  will  protect  us.     Come  with  courage  on.  490 

Atreus  [coming  upon  the  scene,  sees  Thyestes  and  his  three  sons,  and 
gloats  over  the  fact  that  his  brother  is  at  last  in  his  power. 
He  speaks  aside]:  Now  is  the  prey  fast  caught  within 
my  toils. 

I  see  the  father  and  his  hated  brood, 
I  And  here  my  vengeful  hate  is  safe  bestowed; 

For  now  at  last  he's  come  into  my  hands; 
.He's  come,  Thyestes  and  his  children — all!  495 

When  I  see  him  I  scarce  can  curb  my  grief, 

And  keep  my  soul  from  breaking  madly  forth. 

So  when  the  Umbrian  hound  pursues  the  prey, 


Thyestes 


309 


Keen  scented,  on  the  long  leash  held,  he  goes 
With  lowered  muzzle  questing  on  the  trail. 
While  distant  still  the  game  and  faint  the  scent, 
Obedient  to  the  hash,  with  silent  tongue 
He  goes  along;  but  when  the  prey  is  near, 
With  straining  neck  he  struggles  to  be  free, 
Bays  loud  against  the  cautious  hunter's  check, 
And  bursts  from  all  restraint. 

When,  near  at  hand, 
)  Hot  wrath  perceives  the  blood  for  which  it  thirsts, 
STt  cannot  be  restrained.     Yet  must  it  be. 
See  how  his  unkempt,  matted  hair  conceals 
His  woeful  countenance;  how  foul  his  beard. 

[He  now  addresses  Thyestes.] 
My  promised  faith,  my  brother,  will  I  keep; 
'Tis  a  delight  to  see  thee  once  again. 
Come  to  my  arms  in  mutual  embrace; 
For  all  the  anger  which  I  felt  for  thee 
Has  melted  clean  away.     From  this  time  forth 
Let  ties  of  blood  be  cherished,  love  and  faith; 
And  let  that  hatred  which  has  cursed  us  both 
Forever  vanish  from  our  kindred  souls. 

Thyestes:    I  should  attempt  to  palliate  my  sins, 

Hadst  thou  not  shown  me  such  fraternal  love; 
But  now  I  own,  my  brother,  now  I  own 
That  I  have  sinned  against  thee  past  belief. 
Thy  faithful  piety  has  made  my  case 
Seem  blacker  still.     A  double  sinner  he 
Who  sins  against  a  brother  such  as  thou. 
Now  let  my  tears  my  penitence  approve. 
Thou,  first  of  all  mankind,  beholdest  me 
A  suppliant;  these  hands,  which  never  yel 
Have  touched  the  feet  of  man,  are  laid  on  thine. 
Let  all  thy  wrathful  feelings  be  forgot, 
Be  utterly  erased  from  ofi  thy  soul; 
And  take,  O  brother,  as  my  pledge  of  faith 
These  guiltless  sons  of  mine. 

Atrcus:  Lay  not  thy  hands 

Upon  my  knees.     Come,  rather,  to  my  arms- 


500 


505 


5io 


515 


520 


310  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  you,  dear  youths,  the  comforters  of  age, 
Conn-  ding  about  my  Deck.    Those  rags  of  woe, 

My  brother,  lay  aside,  and  span-  mine  eyi 

And  clothe  thyself  more  fittingly  in  these,  525 

The  equal  of  my  own.     And,  last  of  all, 

Accept  thine  equal  share  of  this  our  realm. 

'Twill  bring  a  greater  meed  <>f  praise  to  me, 

To  restore  thee  safely  to  thy  father's  throne. 

For  chance  may  put  the  scepter  in  our  hands; 

But  only  virtue  seeks  to  give  it  up. 
Thyestes:     May  heaven,  my  brother,  worthily  repay  530 

These  deeds  of  thine.     But  this  my  wretched  head 

Will  not  consent  to  wear  a  diadem, 

Nor  my  ill-omened  hand  to  hold  the  staff 

>Of  power.     Nay,  rather,  let  me  hide  myself 

Among  the  throng. 
Atrcus:  There's  room  upon  the  throne. 

Thyestes:     But  I  shall  know  that  all  of  thine  is  mine.  535 

Atrcus:      \  But  who  would  throw  away  good  fortune's  gifts? 
Thyestes:    Whoe'er  has  found  how  easily  they  fail. 
Atrcus:        And  wouldst  thou  thwart  thy  brother's  great  renown? 
Thyestes:    Thy  glory  is  attained;  mine  bides  its  time. 

My  mind  is  resolute  to  shun  the  crown.  540 

Atrcus:        Then  I  refuse  my  share  of  power  as  well. 
Thyestes:     Nay  then,  I  yield.     The  name  of  king  I'll  wear, 

But  laws  and  arms — and  I,  are  thine  to  sway. 
Atrcus  [placing  the  crown  on  his  brother's  head]:  I'll  place  this  crown 
upon  thy  reverend  head, 

And  pay  the  destined  victims  to  the  gods.  545 


Chorus:  The  sight  is  past  belief.     Behold, 

(This  Atreus,  fierce  and  bold  of  soul, 
'  By  every  cruel  passion  swayed, 
When  first  he  saw  his  brother's  face 
Was  held  in  dumb  amaze. 
No  force  is  greater  than  the  power 
Of  Nature's  ties  of  love.     'Tis  true 

That  wars  ^vith  foreign  foes  endure;  550 

But  they  whom  true  love  once  has  bound 


TlIYESTES  .ill 


f 


Will  ever  feel  its  ties. 

W'lun  wrath,  by  some  great  cause  aroused, 
Hath  burst  the  bonds  of  amity, 
And  raised  the  dreadful  cry  of  war; 
When  gleaming  squadrons  thunder  down 
With  champing  steeds;  when  flashing  swords,  555 

By  carnage-maddened  Mars  upreared, 
Gleam  with  a  deadly  rain  of  blows: 
E'en  then  for  sacred  piety 
Those  warring  hands  will  sheathe  the  sword 
And  join  in  the  clasp  of  peace. 

What  god  has  given  this  sudden  lull  560 

In  the  midst  of  loud  alarms  ?     But  now 
Throughout  Mycenae's  borders  rang 
The  noisy  prelude  of  a  strife 
'Twixt  brothers'  arms.     Here  mothers  pale 
Embraced  their  sons,  and  the  trembling  wife 
Looked  on  her  armed  lord  in  fear, 
While  the  sword  to  his  hand  reluctant  came,  565 

Foul  with  the  rust  of  peace. 
One  strove  to  renew  the  tottering  walls. 
And  one  to  strengthen  the  shattered  towers, 
And  close  the  gates  with  iron  bars; 

While  on  the  battlements  the  guard  570 

His  anxious  nightly  vigils  kept. 
The  daily  fear  of  war  is  worse 
Than  war  itself. 

But  fallen  now  are  the  sword's  'lire  threats, 
The  deep-voiced  trumpel  blare  is  still, 

And  the  shrill,  harsh  notes  of  the  clarion  575 

Arc  heard  no  more.     While  pea<  e  profound 
Broods  once  again  o'er  the  happy  state. 
So  when,  beneath  the  storm  blast's  lash. 
The  heaving  waves  break  on  the  shore 
Of  Bruttium,  and  Scylla  roars 
Responsive  from  her  cavern's  depths; 
Then,  even  within  their  sheltered  port,  580 

The  sailors  fear  the  foaming  sea 
\Tiich  greedy  Charybdis  vomits  up; 


I 


3 "  - 


T  III"      T  R  A  G  BDIES      OF      S  E  N  E  C  A 


And  Cyclops  dreads  bis  father's  rage 

Where  he  sits  on  burning  Aetna's  crag, 

I  i  -i  the  deathless  Qames  on  liis  roaring  forge 

Be  quenched  by  the  overwhelming  floods; 

When  poor  Larries  Feels  the  shock 

Of  reeling  Ithaca,  and  thinks 

That  his  island  realm  will  be  swallowed  up: 

Then,  if  the  fierce  winds  die  away, 

The  waves  sink  back  in  their  quiet  depths; 

And  the  sea,  which  of  late  the  vessels  feared, 

Now  far  and  wide  with  swelling  sails 

Is  overspread,  while  tiny  skiffs 

Skim  safely  o'er  its  harmless  breast; 

And  one  may  count  the  very  fish 

Deep  down  within  the  peaceful  caves, 

Where  but  now,  beneath  the  raping  blast, 

The  battered  islands  feared  the  sea. 

No  lot  endureth  long.     For  grief 

And  pleasure,  each  in  turn,  depart; 

But  pleasure  has  a  briefer  reign. 

From  lowest  to  the  highest  state 

I A  fleeting  hour  may  bring  us.     He, 

(Who  wears  a  crown  upon  his  brow, 
To  whom  the  trembling  nations  kneel, 
Before  whose  nod  the  barbarous  Medes 
Lay  down  their  arms,  the  Indians  too, 
Who  dwell  beneath  the  nearer  sun, 
And  Dacians,  who  the  Parthian  horse 
Are  ever  threat'ning:  he,  the  king, 
With  anxious  mind  the  scepter  bears, 

\  Foresees  and  fears  the  fickle  chance 
And  shifting  time  which  soon  or  late 

[Shall  all  his  power  overthrow. 
Ye,  whom  the  ruler  of  the  land 
And  sea  has  given  o'er  subject  men 
The  fearful  power  of  life  and  death, 
Abate  your  overweening  pride. 
For  whatsoever  fear  of  you 
Your  weaker  subjects  feel  today, 


5*5 


59° 


' 


595 


600 


605 


610 


TnYESTES  313 


Tomorrow  shall  a  stronger  lord 
Inspire  in  you.     For  every  power 
Is  subject  to  a  greater  power. 
Him,  whom  the  dawning  day  beholds 
In  proud  estate,  the  setting  sun 
Sees  lying  in  the  dust. 

Let  no  one  then  trust  overmuch  615 

To  favoring  fate;  and  when  she  frowns, 
Let  no  one  utterly  despair 
Of  better  fortune  yet  to  come. 
For  Clotho  mingles  good  and  ill; 
She  whirls  the  wheel  of  fate  around, 
Nor  suffers  it  to  stand. 
To  no  one  are  the  gods  so  good 

That  he  may  safely  call  his  own  620 

^Tomorrow's  dawn;  for  on  the  whirling  wheel 
Has  God  our  fortunes  placed  for  good  or  ill. 


ACT  IV 

[Enter  Messenger  breathlessly  announcing  the  horror  which  has  just  been 

enacted  behind  the  scenes.] 
MessengeriOh,  for  some  raging  blast  to  carry  me 

With  headlong  speed  through  distant  realms  of  air, 
And  wrap  me  in  the  darkness  of  the  clouds; 
That  so  I  might  this  monstrous  horror  tear 
\From  my  remembrance.     Oh,  thou  house  of  shame  625 

(To  Pelops  even  and  to  Tantalus! 
Chorus:       What  is  the  news  thou  bring'st? 

engcr:  What  realm  is  this? 

Argos  and  Sparta,  once  the  noble  home 
Of  pious  brothers?     Corinth,  on  whose  shores 
Two  rival  oceans  beat  ?     Or  do  I  see 
The  barbarous  Danube  on  whose  frozen  stream 
The  savage  Alani  make  swift  retreat?  630 

Hyrcania  beneath  eternal  snows? 
f  Or  those  wide  plains  of  wandering  Scythians? 
What  place  is  tin's  that  knows  such  hideous  crime? 
Chorus:       But  tell  thy  tidings,  whatsoe'er  they  be. 
Messenger:  When  I  my  scattered  senses  gather  up, 


3 14  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  horrid  fear  lets  go  its  numbing  bold 

Upon  my  limits.     Oil,  hut  I  see  il  still, 

The  ghastly  picture  of  thai  dreadful  deedl  635 

Oh,  come,  ye  whirlwinds  wild,  and  bear  me  far, 

distant,  where  the  vanished  day  is  borne. 
Chorus:      Thou  hold'st  our  minds  in  dire  uncertainty. 

Speak  OUl  and  tell  us  what  this  horror  is, 

And  who  iis  author.     Yet  would  I  inquire 

Not  who,  but  which  he  is.     Speak  quickly,  then.  640 

Messenger:  There  is  upon  the  lofty  citadel 

A  part  of  Pclops'  house  that  fronts  the  south, 

Whose  farther  side  lifts  up  its  massive  walls 

To  mountain  heights;  for  so  the  reigning  king 

May  better  sway  the  town,  and  hold  in  check 

The  common  rabble  when  it  scorns  the  throne. 

Within  this  palace  is  a  gleaming  hall,  645 

So  huge,  it  may  a  multitude  contain; 

Whose  golden  architraves  are  high  upborne 

By  stately  columns  of  a  varied  hue. 

Behind  this  public  hall  where  people  throng, 

The  palace  stretches  off  in  spacious  rooms; 

And,  deep  withdrawn,  the  royal  sanctum  lies,  650 

Far  from  the  vulgar  gaze.     This  sacred  spot 

An  ancient  grove  within  a  dale  confines, 

Wherein  no  tree  its  cheerful  shade  affords, 

Or  by  the  knife  is  pruned;  but  cypress  trees 

And  yews,  and  woods  of  gloomy  ilex  wave 

Their  melancholy  boughs.     Above  them  all  655 

A  towering  oak  looks  down  and  spreads  abroad, 

O'ershadowing  all  the  grove.     Within  this  place 

The  royal  sons  of  Tantalus  are  wont 

To  ask  consent  of  heaven  to  their  rule, 

And  here  to  seek  its  aid  when  fortune  frowns. 

Here  hang  their  consecrated  offerings: 

Sonorous  trumpets,  broken  chariots, 

Those  famous  spoils  of  the  Myrtoan  sea;  660 

Still  hang  upon  the  treacherous  axle-trees 

The  conquered  chariot-wheels — mementoes  grim 

Of  every  crime  this  sinful  race  has  done. 


Thyestes 


315 


Chorus: 


Here  also  is  the  Phrygian  turban  hung 

Of  Pelops'  self;  and  here  the  spoil  of  foes, 

A  rich  embroidered  robe,  the  prize  of  war. 

An  oozy  stream  springs  there  beneath  the  shade,  665 

And  sluggish  creeps  along  within  the  swamp, 

Just  like  the  ugly  waters  of  the  Styx 

Which  bind  the  oaths  of  heaven.     'Tis  said  that  here 

At  dead  of  night  the  hellish  gods  make  moan, 

And  all  the  grove  resounds  with  clanking  chains, 
.And  mournful  howl  of  ghosts.     Here  may  be  seen  670 

(  Whatever,  but  to  hear  of,  causes  fear. 

The  spirits  of  the  ancient  dead  come  forth 

From  old,  decaying  tombs,  and  walk  abroad; 

While  monsters,  greater  than  the  world  has  known, 

Go  leaping  round,  grotesque  and  terrible. 

The  whole  wood  gleams  with  an  uncanny  light, 

And  without  sign  of  fire  the  palace  glows. 

Ofttimes  the  grove  re-echoes  with  the  sound  675 

Of  threefold  bayings  of  the  dogs  of  hell, 

And  oft  do  mighty  shapes  affright  the  house. 
)Nor  are  these  fears  allayed  by  light  of  day; 

For  night  reigns  ever  here,  and  e'en  at  noon 

The  horror  of  the  underworld  abides. 

From  this  dread  spot  are  sure  responses  given  680 

To  those  who  seek  the  oracle;  the  fates 

With  mighty  sound  from  out  the  grot  are  told, 

And  all  the  cavern  thunders  with  the  god. 

'  I'was  to  this  spot  that  maddened  Atreus  came, 

His  brother's  children  dragging  in  his  train. 

The  sacrificial  altars  are  adorned — 

Oh,  who  can  worthily  describe  the  deed  ? 

Behind  their  backs  the  noble  captives'  hands  685 

Are  bound,  and  purple  fillets  wreathe  their  brows. 

All  things  are  ready,  incense,  sacred  wine, 

The  sacrificial  meal,  and  fatal  knife. 

The  last  detail  is  properly  observed, 

That  this  outrageous  murder  may  be  done 

In  strict  observance  of  the  ritual ! 

Who  lays  his  hand  unto  the  fatal  steel  ?  690 


316  The     TRAGEDIES     OF     SENECA 

Missenger:  He  is  himself  the  priest;  the  baleful  prayer 

Hi'  makes,  and  chants  the  sacrificial  soul,' 

Willi  wild  and  boisterous  words;  before  the  shrine 

He  takes  his  place;  the  victims  doomed  to  death 

He  sets  in  order,  and  prepares  the  sword. 

He  gives  the  closest  heed  to  all  details 

And  misses  no  least  portion  of  the  rite.  695 

The  grove  begins  to  tremble,  earth  to  quake, 

And  all  the  palace  totters  with  the  shock, 

And  seems  to  hesitate  in  conscious  doubt 

Where  it  shall  throw  its  ponderous  masses  down. 

High  on  the  left  a  star  with  darkling  train 

Shoots  swift  athwart  the  sky;  the  sacred  wine 

Poured  at  the  altar  fires,  with  horrid  change,  700 

Turns  bloody  as  it  flows.     The  royal  crown 

Fell  twice  and  yet  again  from  Atreus'  head, 

And  the  ivory  statues  in  the  temple  wept. 

These  monstrous  portents  moved  all  others  sore; 
)  But  Atreus,  only,  held  himself  unmoved, 

And  even  set  the  threat'ning  gods  at  naught. 

And  now  delay  is  at  an  end.     He  stands  705 

Before  the  shrine  with  lowering,  sidelong  gaze. 

As  in  the  jungle  by  the  Ganges  stream 

A  hungry  tigress  stands  between  two  bulls, 

Eager  for  both,  but  yet  in  doubtful  mood 

Which  first  shall  feel  her  fangs  (to  this  she  turns  710 

With  gaping  jaws,  then  back  to  that  again, 

And  holds  her  raging  hunger  in  suspense) : 

So  cruel  Atreus  eyes  the  victims  doomed 

To  sate  his  cursed  wrath;  and  hesitates 

\Vho  first  shall  feel  the  knife,  and  who  shall  die 

The  next  in  order.     'Tis  of  no  concern, 

But  still  he  hesitates,  and  gloats  awhile  715 

In  planning  how  to  do  the  horrid  deed. 
Chorus:       Who  then  is  first  to  die  ? 
Messenger:  First  place  he  gives 

(Lest  you  should  think  him  lacking  in  respect) 

Unto  his  grandsire's  namesake,  Tantalus. 
Chorus:      What  spirit,  what  demeanor  showed  the  youth  ? 


Thyestes  317 

—p--, 

Messenger:  ^He  stood  quite  unconcerned,  nor  strove  to  plead,  720 

Knowing  such  prayer  m  re  vain.     But  in  his  neck 
That  savage  butcher  plunged  his  gleaming  sword 
Clear  to  the  hilt  and  drew  it  forth  again. 
Still  stood  the  corpse  upright,  and,  wavering  long, 
As  'twere  in  doubt  or  here  or  there  to  fall,  725 

At  last  prone  on  the  uncle  hurled  itself. 
Then  he,  his  rancor  unabated  still, 
Dragged  youthful  Plisthenes  before  the  shrine, 
And  quickly  meted  him  his  brother's  fate. 
With  one  keen  blow  he  smote  him  on  the  neck, 
Whereat  his  bleeding  body  fell  to  earth; 
While  with  a  murmur  inarticulate, 
His  head  with  look  complaining  rolled  away. 

Chorus:       What  did  he  then,  this  twofold  murder  done  ?  730 

The  last  one  spare,  or  heap  up  crime  on  crime? 

Messenger:  As  when  some  maned  lion  in  tne  woods 
Victorious  attacks  the  Armenian  herds — 
(His  jaws  are  smeared  with  blood,  his  hunger  gone; 
And  yet  he  does  not  lay  aside  his  wrath;  735 

Now  here,  now  there  he  charges  on  the  bulls, 
And  now  the  calves  he  worries,  though  his  teeth 
Are  weary  with  their  work) — so  Atreus  raves; 
He  swells  with  wrath;  and,  grasping  in  his  hand 
The  sword  with  double  slaughter  dripping  yet, 
By  fury  blinded  but  with  deadly  stroke, 

He  drives  clean  through  the  body  of  the  boy.  740 

And  so,  from  breast  to  back  transfixed,  he  falls 
By  double  wound,  and  with  his  streaming  blood 
Extinguishes  the  baleful  altar  fires. 

Chorus:       Oh,  horrid  deed! 

Messenger:  What !  horrid  call  ye  that  ? 

If  only  there  the  course  of  crime  had  stopped, 
'Twould  pious  seem.  745 

Chorus:  What  more  atrocious  crime, 

What  greater  sin  could  human  heart  conceive? 

Messenger:  And  do  ye  think  his  crime  was  ended  here? 
'Twas  just  begun. 

Chorus:  What  further  could  there  be  ? 


3 1 8  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Perchance  be  threw  the  corpses  to  be  torn 
By  raving  beasts,  and  kept  them  from  the  fire 
Messenger:  Would  that  he  had!  I  do  nol  pray  for  this, 
That  friendly  earth  may  give  them  burial, 
Or  funeral  fires  consume;  but  only  this,  750 

'  That  as  a  ghastly  meal  they  may  be  thrown 
To  birds  and  Bavage  beasts.     Such  is  my  prayer, 
Which  otherwise  were  direful  punishment. 
(.  Hi,  that  the  father  might  their  corpses  see 
Denied  to  sepulture !     Oh,  crime  of  crimes, 
Incredible  in  any  age;  a  crime 
Which  coming  generations  will  refuse 

To  hear!     Behold,  from  breasts  yet  warm  with  life,  755 

The  exta,  plucked  away,  lie  quivering, 
The  lungs  still  breathe,  the  timid  heart  still  beats. 
But  he  the  organs  with  a  practiced  hand 
Turns  deftly  over,  and  inquires  the  (Jates^ 
Observing  carefully  the  viscera. 
With  this  inspection  satisfied  at  length, 

With  mind  at  ease,  he  now  is  free  to  plan  760 

His  brother's  awful  feast.     With  his  own  hand 
The  bodies  he  dismembers,  caning  off 
The  arms  and  shoulders,  laying  bare  the  bones, 
And  all  with  savage  joy.     He  only  saves 
The  heads  and  hands,  those  hands  which  he  himself 
Had  clasped  in  friendly  faith.     Some  of  the  flesh 
Is  placed  on  spits  and  by  the  roasting  fires  765 

Hangs  dripping;  other  parts  into  a  pot 
Are  thrown,  where  on  the  water's  seething  stream 
They  leap  about.     The  fire  in  horror  shrinks 
From  the  polluting  touch  of  such  a  feast, 
Recoils  upon  the  shuddering  altar-hearth 
Twice  and  again,  until  at  last  constrained, 
Though  with  repugnance  strong,  it  fiercely  burns. 
The  liver  sputters  strangely  on  the  spits;  770 

Nor  could  I  say  whether  the  flesh  or  flames 
Groan  more.     The  fitful  flames  die  out  in  smoke 
Of  pitchy  blackness;  and  the  smoke  itself, 
A  heavy  mournful  cloud,  mounts  not  aloft 


Thyestes  319 


In  upward-shooting  columns,  straight  and  high, 

But  settles  down  like  a  disfiguring  shroud 

Upon  the  very  statues  of  the  gods.  775 

O  all -enduring  sun,  though  thou  didsi  lice 

In  horror  from  the  sight,  and  the  radiant  noon 

Didst  into  darkness  plunge;  'twas  all  too  late. 

The  father  tears  his  sons,  and  impiously  feasts 

On  his  own  flesh.     See,  there  in  state  he  sits, 

His  hair  anointed  with  the  dripping  nard,  780 

His  senses  dulled  with  wine.     And  oft  the  food, 

As  if  in  horror  held,  sticks  in  his  throat. 

In  this  thine  evil  hour  one  good  remains, 

One  only,  ()  Thyestes:  that  to  know 

Thy  depth  oi  suffering  is  spared  to  thee. 

But  even  this  will  perish.     Though  the  sun 

Should  turn  his  chariot  backward  on  its  course,  785 

And  tigHt,  at  noon  arising  from  the  earth, 

Should  quite  obscure  this  foul  and  ghastly  crime 

With  shades  unknown,  it  could  not  be  concealed; 

For  every  evil  deed  shall  be  revealed. 


[Unnatural  darkness  has  come  over  the  world  at  midday.} 
Chorus:  O  father  of  the  earth  and  sky, 

Before  whose  rising  beams  the  night  790 

With  all  her  glories  flees  away; 
Oh,  whither  dost  thou  turn  thy  course, 
And  why,  midway  of  heaven,  does  day 
\  To  darkness  turn  ?     O  Phoebus,  why 
1  Dost  turn  away  thy  shining  face  ? 
Not  yet  has  evening's  messenger 

Called  forth  the  nightly  stars;  not  yet  795 

The  rounding  of  thy  western  goal 
Hids  loose  thy  horses  from  their  toil; 
Not  yet,  as  day  fades  into  night, 
Sounds  forth  the  trumpets'  evening  call. 
The  plowman  stands  in  dumb  amaze,  800 

With  oxen  still  unspent  with  toil, 
To  see  the  welcome  supper  hour 
So  quickly  come.     But  what,  O  sun, 


3«o 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


S 


lias  driven  thee  from  thy  heavenly  course? 
What  cause  from  their  accustomed  way 
Has  turned  thy  steeds?    Is  war  essayed 
Omv  more  by  giants,  bursting  forth 
From  out  tlu'  riven  gates  of  Dis?  805 

Does  Tityos,  though  wounded  sore, 
Renew  his  ancient,  deadly  wrath? 
Perchance  Typhoeus  lias  thrown  off 
His  mountain,  and  is  free  once  more; 

Perchance  once  more  a  way  to  heaven  810 

Those  giants,  felled  in  Phlegra's  vale, 
Are  building,  and  on  Pelion's  top 
Are  piling  Thracian  Ossa  high. 
The  accustomed  changes  of  the  heavens 
Are  gone  to  come  no  more.     No  more 
The  rising  and  the  setting  sun 

Shall  we  behold.     Aurora  bright,  815 

The  herald  of  the  dewy  morn, 
Whose  wont  it  is  to  speed  the  sun 
\'Upon  his  way,  now  stands  amazed   1 
VTo  see  herjfing(-lonx-£>Yprtnrnpd. 
rShe  is  not  skilled  to  batheTnTsteeds, 
'  A-weary  with  their  rapid  course, 

I  Nor  in  the  cooling  sea  to  plunge  820 

I  Their  reeking  manes.     The  sun  himself, 
In  setting,  sees  the  place  of  dawn, 
And  bids  the  darkness  fill  the  sky 
Without  the  aid  of  night.     No  stars 
Come  out,  nor  do  the  heavens  gleam 

With  any  fires;  no  moon  dispels  825 

The  darkness'  black  and  heavy  pall. 
Oh,  that  the  night  itself  were  here, 
Whatever  this  portends !  Our  hearts 
Are  trembling,  yea,  are  trembling  sore, 
And  smitten  with  a  boding  fear 

Lest  all  the  world  in  ruins  fall,  830 

And  formless  chaos  as  of  yore 
O'erwhelm  us,  gods  and  men;  lest  land, 
And  all -encircling  sea,  and  stars 


Thyestes  321 


That  wander  in  the  spangled  heavens, 

Be  buried  in  the  general  doom. 

No  more  with  gleaming,  deathless  torch,  835 

^  Shall  Phoebus,  lord  of  all  the  stars, 

Lead  the  procession  of  the  years 

And  mark  the  seasons;  nevermore 

Shall  Luna,  flashing  back  his  rays, 

Dispel  the  fears  of  night;  and  pass 
)  In  shorter  course  her  brother's  car.  840 

The  throng  of  heavenly  beings  soon 

Shall  in  one  vast  abyss  be  heaped. 

That  shining  path  of  sacred  stars, 

Which  cuts  obliquely  'thwart  the  zones,  845 

The  standard-bearer  of  the  years, 

Shall  see  the  stars  in  ruin  fall, 

Itself  in  ruin  falling.     He, 

The  Ram,  who,  in  the  early  spring, 

Restores  the  sails  to  the  warming  breeze, 

Shall  headlong  plunge  into  those  waves  850 

Through  which  the  trembling  maid  of  Greece 

He  bore  of  old.     And  Taurus,  who 

Upon  his  homs  like  a  garland  wears 

The  Hyades,  shall  drag  with  him 

The  sacred  Twins,  and  the  stretched-out  claws 

Of  the  curving  Crab.     With  heat  inflamed, 

Alcides'  Lion  once  again  855 

Shall  fall  from  heaven;  the  Virgin,  too, 

Back  to  the  earth  she  left  shall  fall; 

And  the  righteous  Scales  with  their  mighty  weights, 

Shall  drag  in  their  fall  the  Scorpion. 

And  he,  old  Chiron,  skilled  to  hold  860 

Upon  his  bow  of  Thessaly 

The  feathered  dart,  shall  lose  his  shafts 

And  break  his  bow.     Cold  Capricorn, 

Who  ushers  sluggish  winter  in, 

Shall  fall  from  heaven,  and  break  thy  urn, 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  O  Waterman.  865 

And  with  thee  shall  the  Fish  depart 

Remotest  of  the  stars  of  heaven; 


322  The    Tragedies    or    SENECA 

Ami  those  monsters1  huge  which  never  yel 
Were  in  the  ocean  plunged,  shall  soon 

Within  the  all  engulfing  sea 

Be  sua  1  lowed  up.     And  that  huge  Snake, 

Which  like  a  winding  river  glides  870 

Between  the  Hears,  shall  fall  from  heaven;2 

United  with  that  serpent  huge, 

The  Lesser  Hear,  congealed  with  cold, 

And  that  slow  driver  of  the  Wain 

No  longer  stable  in  its  course, 

Shall  all  in  common  ruin  fall. 

Have  we,  of  all  the  race  of  men,  875 

Been  worthy  deemed  to  be  o'erwhelmed 
l.  And  buried  'neath  a  riven  earth  ? 

Is  this  our  age  the  end  of  all  ? 

Alas,  in  evil  hour  of  fate 

Were  we  begotten,  wretched  still, 

Whether  the  sun  is  lost  to  us  880 

Or  banished  by  our  impious  sins! 

But  away  with  vain  complaints  and  fear: 
Eager  for  life  is  he  who  would  not  die, 
Though  all  the  world  in  death  around  him  lie. 

ACT  V 

Atrcus  [entering  exultingly]:  The  peer  of  stars  I  move,  high  over  all,  |   885 
And  with  exalted  head  attain  the  heavens! 
Now  are  the  reins  of  power  within  my  hands, 
,  And  I  am  master  of  my  father's  throne. 
r  V\I  here  renounce  the  gods,  for  I  have  gained 
The  height  of  my  desires.     It  is  enough, 
And  even  I  am  satisfied.     But  why  ? 
£Nay,  rather,  will  I  finish  my  revenge, 
And  glut  the  father  with  his  feast  of  death.  890 

The  day  has  fled,  lest  shame  should  hold  me  back; 
Act  then,  while  yet  the  darkness  veils  the  sky. 
Oh,  that  I  might  restrain  the  fleeing  gods, 
And  force  them  to  behold  the  avenging  feast! 
But  'tis  enough,  if  but  the  father  sees.  895 

1  Reading,  monslra.  '  Reading,  with  a  semicolon  after  Anguis. 


Thyestes  323 


Though  daylight  aid  me  not,  yet  will  I  snatch 

The  shrouding  darkness  from  thy  miseries. 

Too  long  with  care-free,  cheerful  countenance 

Thou  licst  at  the  feast.     Now  food  enough, 

And  wine  enough.     For  so  great  ills  as  these,  900 

Thyestes  must  his  sober  senses  keep. 
[To  the  slaves.] 

Ye  menial  throng,  spread  wide  the  temple  doors, 

The  festal  hall  reveal.     'Tis  sweet   o  note 

The  father's  frantic  grief  when  first  he  sees 

His  children's  gory  heads;  to  catch  his  words, 

To  watch  his  color  change;  to  see  him  sit, 
]A11  breathless  with  the  shock,  in  dumb  amaze, 

J  In  frozen  horror  at  the  gruesome  sight.  905 

This  is  the  sweet  reward  of  all  my  toil — 

To  see  his  misery,  e'en  as  it  grows 

Upon  his  soul. 
[The  doors  are  thrown  open,  showing  Thyestes  at  the  banquet  table.] 
Now  gleams  with  many  a  torch 

The  spacious  banquet  hall.     See,  there  he  lies 

Upon  his  golden  couch  all  richly  decked 

With  tapestry,  his  wine-befuddled  head 

Upstayed  upon  his  hand.     Oh,  happy  me!  910 

p(C_*The  mightiest  of  the  heavenly  gods  am  I, 

And  king  of  kings!     The  fondest  of  my  hopes       _ ^ 

Is  more  than  realized.     His  meal  is  done;      E'rtL^  */ 

Now  raises  he  his  silver  cup  to  drink. 

Spare  not  the  wine;  there  still  remains  the  blood 

Of  thy  three  sons,  and  'twill  be  well  disguised  915 

With  old  red  wine.     Now  be  the  revel  done. 

Now  let  the  father  drink  the  mingled  blood 

Of  his  own  offspring;  mine  he  would  have  drunk. 

But  see,  he  starts  to  sing  a  festal  song. 

With  mind  uncertain  and  with  senses  dim. 
Thyestes  [sits  alone  at  the  banquet  table,  half  overcome  with  wine; 
he  tries  to  sing  and  be  gay,  but  in  spite  0/  this,  some 
vague  premonition  oj  evil  weighs  upon  his  spirit]: 
O  heart,  long  dulled  with  wretchedness,  920 

Put  by  at  last  thine  anxious  cares. 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


( >h,  now  lei  grief  and  fear  depart; 
Lei  haunting  hunger  flee  away. 
The  grim  companion  of  the  lot 
Of  trembling  exiles;  and  disgrace, 
A  heavy  Load  for  mourning  souls.  925 

n      Mon-  boots  it  from  what  height  thou  fall'st, 
Than  to  what  depth.     How  noble  is't, 
When  fallen  from  the  pinnacle, 
With  dauntless  step  and  firm,  to  tread 
The  lowly  plain;  and  noble  too, 
Though  by  a  mass  of  cares  o'erwhclmed, 
To  bolster  up  the  shattered  throne  930 

With  neck  unbending;  and  with  soul 
Heroic,  undismayed  by  ills, 
To  stand  erect  beneath  the  weight 
iOf  ruined  fortunes. 

But  away, 
Ye  gloomy  clouds  of  fate;  ye  marks 

Of  former  misery,  depart.  935 

Thy  happy  fortune  greet  with  face 
Of  joy,  and  utterly  forget 
The  old  Thyestes.     But  alas! 
This  fault  is  linked  with  wretchedness, 
That  never  can  the  woeful  soul 
Accept  returned  prosperity. 
\  Though  kindly  fortune  smile  again,  940 

He  who  has  suffered  finds  it  hard 
To  give  himself  to  joy-    But  why 
Dost  thou  restrain  me  ?     Why  forbid 
To  celebrate  this  festal  day  ? 
Why  wouldst  thou  have  me  weep,  O  grief, 
For  no  cause  rising  Y    Why  with  flowers  945 

Dost  thou  forbid  to  wreathe  my  hair  ? 
It  does,  it  does  forbid !     For  see, 
Upon  my  head  the  flowers  of  spring 
Have  withered;  and  my  festal  locks, 
Though  dripping  with  the  precious  nard, 
Stand  up  in  sudden  dread;  my  cheeks, 
That  have  no  cause  to  weep,  are  wet  950 


Thyestes  325 


f 


With  tears;  and  in  the  midst  of  speech 
)  I  groan  aloud.     No  doubt  'tis  true, 
That  grief,  well  trained  in  weeping,  loves 
'To  melt  away  in  tears;  and  oft 
The  wretched  feel  a  strong  desire 
To  weep  their  fill.     E'en  so  I  long 
To  cry  aloud  my  wretchedness, 
1  To  rend  these  gorgeous  Tyrian  robes,  955 

And  shriek  my  misery  to  heaven. 
My  mind  gives  intimation  dark 
jOf  coming  grief,  its  own  distress 
^Foreboding.     So  the  sailor  fears 
The  raging  tempest's  near  approach, 

When  tranquil  waters  heave  and  swell,  960 

Without  a  breath  of  wind.     Thou_fooI, 
What  grief,  what  rising  storm  of  fate 
Dost  thou  imagine  nigh  ?     Nay,  nay, 
^  Believe  thy  brother;  for  thy  fear- — 
'Tis  groundless,  whatsoe'er  it  be, 
'Or  thou  dost  fear  too  late.     Ah  me, 

I  would  not  be  unhappy  now;  965 

1  But  in  my  souFdim  terror  stalks, 
(Nor  can  my  eyes  withhold  their  tears; 
And  all  for  naught.     What  can  it  be  ? 
'  Am  I  possessed  by  grief  or  fear  ? 
Or  can  this  some  great  rapture  be, 
J  That  weeps  for  joy? 
Atrcus  [greeting  his  brother  with  effusive  affection]:     With  one  consent, 

my  brother,  let  us  keep  970 

This  festal  day.     For  this  the  happy  day 
Which  shall  the  scepter  'stablish  in  thy  hand, 
And  link  our  family  in  the  bonds  of  peace. 
Thyestes    [pushing  the  remains  of  the  feast  from  him]:  Enough  of  food 
and  wine!     One  thing  alone 
Can  swell  my  generous  sum  of  happiness — 
If  with  my  children  I  may  share  my  joy.  975 

Atrcus:        Believe  that  in  the  father's  bosom  rest 

The  sons;  both  now  and  ever  shall  they  be 
With  thee.     No  single  part  of  these  thy  sons 


fA 


326 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Shall  e'd  be  taken  from  thee.     Make  request: 
What  thou  desirest  will  I  freely  give, 

And  fill  thee  with  thy  loving  family. 

Thou  shalt  be  satisfied;   be  nut  afraid.  980 

E'en  now  thy  children,  mingled  with  my  own, 

Enjoy  alone  their  youthful  festival. 

They  shall  be  summoned  hither.     Now  behold 

This  ancient  cup,  an  heirloom  of  our  house. 

Take  thou  and  drink  the  wine  which  it  contains. 
[  //c  hands  Thyestcs  the  cup  filled  with  mingled  blood  and  wine.] 
Thyestes:     1  take  my  brother's  proffered  gift.     But  first 

Unto  our  father's  gods  we'll  pour  a  share, 

And  then  will  drink  the  cup.  985 

But  what  is  this  ? 

My  hands  will  not  obey  my  will;  the  cup — 

How  heavy  it  has  grown,  how  it  resists 

My  grasp!  And  see  how  now  the  wine  itself, 

Though  lifted  to  my  mouth,  avoids  the  touch, 

And  flees  my  disappointed  lips.     Behold, 

The  table  totters  on  the  trembling  floor; 

The  lights  burn  dim;  the  very  air  is  thick,  990 

And,  by  the  natural  fires  deserted,  stands 

All  dull  and  lifeless  'twixt  the  day  and  night. 

What  can  it  all  portend  ?     Now  more  and  more 

The  shattered  heavens  seem  tottering  to  their  fall; 

The  darkness  deepens,  and  the  gloomy  night 

In  blacker  night  is  plunged.     And  all  the  stars 

Have  disappeared.     Whatever  this  may  mean,  995 

Oh,  spare  my  children,  brother,  spare,  I  pray; 

And  let  this  gathering  storm  of  evil  burst 

Upon  my  head.     Oh,  give  me  back  my  sons! 
Atreus:        Yes,  I  will  give  them  back,  and  never  more 

Shall  they  be  taken  from  thy  fond  embrace. 

[Exit.] 
Thyestes:    What  is  this  tumult  rising  in  my  breast  ? 

[Why  do  my  vitals  quake  ?     I  feel  a  load  1000 

Unbearable,  and  from  my  inmost  heart 

Come  groans  of  agony  that  are  not  mine. 

My  children,  come !  your  wretched  father  calls. 


Thyestes  327 


Oh,  come!     For  when  mine  eyes  behold  you  here, 

Perchance  this  care  will  pass  away. — But  whence 

Those  answering  calls  ? 
Atrcus  [returning,  with  a  covered  platter  in  his  hands]: 

Now  spread  thy  loving  arms. 

See,  here  they  are. 
[He  uncovers  the  platter  revealing  the  severed  heads  of  Thyestes' 

sons.] 
Dost  recognize  thy  sons  ?  1005 

Thyestes:*)!  recognize  my  brother!     How,  O  Earth,  / 

I  Canst  thou  endure  such  monstrous  crime  as  this  ? 

Why  dost  thou  not  to  everlasting  shade 

And  Styx  infernal  cleave  a  yawning  gulf, 

And  sweep  away  to  empty  nothingness 

This  guilty  king  with  all  his  realm  ?     And  why 

Dost  thou  not  raze,  and  utterly  destroy  1010 

The  city  of  Mycenae  ?     Both  of  us 

Should  stand  with  Tantalus  in  punishment. 

If,  far  below  the  depths  of  Tartarus, 

There  is  a  deeper  hell,  O  Mother  Earth, 

Thy  strong  foundations  rend  asunder  wide, 

And  send  us  thither  to  that  lowest  pit.  1015 

\There  let  us  hide  beneath  all  Acheron; 

Let  damned  shades  above  our  guilty  heads 

Go  wandering;  let  fiery  Phlegethon 

In  raging  torrent  pour  his  burning  sands 

Above  our  place  of  exile. 

But  the  earth 

Insensate  lies,  and  utterly  unmoved.  1020 

The  gods  have  fled. 
Atrcus:  Nay»  come  with  thankful  heart 

Receive  thy  sons  whom  thou  hast  long  desired. 

Enjoy  them,  kiss  them,  share  among  the  three 

Thy  fond  embraces. 
Thyestes:  And  is  this  thy  bond  ? 

Is  this  thy  grace,  thy  fond  fraternal  faith  ? 

So  dost  thou  cease  to  hate  ?     I  do  not  ask  1025 

That  I  may  have  my  sons  again  unharmed; 

But  what  in  crime  and  hatred  may  be  given, 


3«8 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Atreus: 


Thyestes: 


A  trcus: 
Thyestes: 


Atreus: 


This  I,  a  brother,  from  a  brother  ask: 

Thai  1  may  bury  them.     Restore  my  sons, 

Ami  thou  shall  see  their  corpses  burned  at  once. 

The  father  begs  for  naught  that  he  may  keep, 

Hut  utterly  destroy.  1030 

Thou  hast  thy  sous, 
Whate'er  of  them  remains;  thou  also  hast 
Whate'er  does  not  remain. 

What  hast  thou  done  ? 
Hast  fed  them  to  the  savage,  greedy  birds? 
Have  beasts  of  prey  devoured  their  tender  flesh  ? 
Thou  has  I  thyself  that  impious  banquet  made. 
Oh,  then,  'twas  this  that  shamed  the  gods  of  heaven,  1035 

And  drove  the  day  in  horror  back  to  dawn ! 
Ah  me,  what  cries  shall  voice,  what  plaints  express 
My  wretchedness?     Where  can  I  find  the  words 
That  can  describe  my  woe  ?     The  severed  heads 
And  hands  and  mangled  feet  are  there;  for  these 
Their  sire,  for  all  his  greed,  could  not  devour.  1040 

But  Oh,  I  feel  within  my  vitals  now 
That  horrid  thing  which  struggles  to  be  free, 
But  can  no  exit  find.     Give  me  the  sword, 
Which  even  now  is  reeking  with  my  blood, 
That  it  may  set  my  children  free  from  me. 
Thou  wilt  not  give  it  me  ?     Then  let  my  breast  1045 

Resound  with  crushing  blows — but  hold  thy  hand, 
Unhappy  one,  and  spare  the  imprisoned  shades. 
Oh,  who  has  ever  seen  such  crime  as  this  ? 
What  dweller  on  the  rough  and  hostile  crags 
Of  Caucasus,  or  what  Procrustes  dire, 
The  terror  of  the  land  of  Attica  ? 

Lo  I,  the  father,  overwhelm  my  sons,  1050 

And  by  those  very  sons  am  overwhelmed. 
Is  there  no  limit  to  this  crime  of  thine  ? 
When  one  for  its  own  sake  commits  a  crime, 
There  is  a  proper  limit;  but  no  end 
Is  possible  when  vengeance  through  the  crime 
Js  sought.     E'en  as  it  is,  this  deed  of  mine 
Is  all  too  mild.     I  should  have  poured  their  blood 


Thyestes  329 


Straight  from  their  gaping  wounds  into  thy  mouth,  1055 

That  thou  mightst  drink  their  very  streams  of  life 

But  there  my  wrath  was  cheated  of  its  due 

By  overhaste. 

I  smote  them  with  the  sword, 

I  slaughtered  them  before  the  sacred  shrine, 
1  And  with  their  blood  appeased  our  household  gods; 

I  hewed  their  lifeless  bodies  limb  from  limb; 

I  carved  them  into  bits,  and  part  I  seethed  1060 

In  brazen  kettles,  part  before  the  fire 

On  spits  I  roasted.     From  their  living  limbs 

I  carved  the  tender  flesh,  and  saw  it  hiss 

And  sputter  on  the  slender  spit,  the  while 

With  my  own  hands  I  kept  the  fire  a-blaze.  1065 

But  all  these  things  the  father  should  have  done. 

In  this  my  vengeful  gnet  Has  fallen  short.      ~ 

With  impious  teeth  he  tore  his  slaughtered  sons; 
_But  still  in  merciful  unconsciousness 

The  deed  was  done  and  suffered.  s 
Thyestes:     '  O  ye  seas, 

Hemmed  round  by  curving  shores,  give  ear  to  this! 

Hear  too,  ye  gods,  wherever  ye  have  fled.  1070 

Ye  lords  of  hades,  hear;  hear,  O  ye  lands; 
{ And  Night,  all  black  and  heavy  with  the  pall 

Of  Tartarus,  attend  unto  my  cry; 

For  I  am  left  to  thee,  and  thou  alone 

Doth  look  in  pity  on  my  wretchedness, 

Thou,  too,  forsaken  of  the  friendly  stars; 

For  I  will  raise  no  wicked  prayers  to  thee, 

Naught  for  myself  implore— what  could  I  ask  ?  1075 

For  you,  ye  heavenly  gods,  be  all  my  prayers. 

O  thou,  almighty  ruler  <>f  the  sky, 

Who  sitt'st  as  lord  upon  the  throne  of  heaven, 

Enwrap  the  universe  in  dismal  clouds, 

Incite  the  winds  to  war  on  every  side, 

And  let  thy  thunders  crash  from  pole  to  pole;  1080 

Not  with  such  lesser  Ixilts  as  thou  dost  use 

Against  the  guiltless  homes  of  common  men, 

But  those  which  overthrew  the  triple  mass 


33° 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Of  heaped-up  mountains,  and  those  giant  forms, 
Themselves  like  mountains  huge:  such  arms  employ; 
'  Hurl  down  such  fires.     Avenge  the  banished  day;  1085 

With  thy  consuming  Sames  supply  the  light 

Which  has  been  snatched  from  out  the  darkened  heaven. 

Select  us  both  as  objects  of  thy  wrath; 

Or  if  not  both,  then  me;  aim  thou  at  me. 

With  that  three-forked  bolt  of  thine  transfix  1090 

My  guilty  breast.     If  I  would  give  my  sons 

To  burning  and  to  fitting  burial, 

I  must  myself  be  burned.     But  if  my  prayers 

Do  not  with  heaven  prevail,  and  if  no  god 

Aims  at  the  impious  his  fatal  shaft; 

Then  may  eternal  night  brood  o'er  the  earth, 

And  hide  these  boundless  crimes  in  endless  shade. 

If  thou,  O  sun,  dost  to  thy  purpose  hold,  1095 

And  cease  to  shine,  I  supplicate  no  more. 
Aircus:        Now  do  I  praise  my  handiwork  indeed; 

Now  have  I  gained  the  palm  of  victory. 

My  deed  had  failed  entirely  of  its  aim, 

Didst  thou  not  suffer  thus.     Now  may  I  trust 

That  those  I  call  my  sons  are  truly  so, 

And  faith  that  once  my  marriage  bed  was  pure 

Has  come  again. 
Thyestes:  What  was  my  children's  sin  ?  1100 

Atreus:        Because  they  were  thy  chidlren. 
Thyestes:  But  to  think 

That  children  to  the  father — 
Atreus:  That  indeed, 

I  do  confess  it,  gives  me  greatest  joy: 

That  thou  art  well  assured  they  were  thy  sons. 
Thyestes:    I  call  upon  the  gods  of  innocence — 
Atreus:        Why  not  upon  the  gods  of  marriage  call  ? 
Thyestes:    Why  dost  thou  seek  to  punish  crime  with  crime? 
Atreus:        Well  do  I  know  the  cause  of  thy  complaint: 

Because  I  have  forestalled  thee  in  the  deed. 

Thou  grievest,  not  because  thou  hast  consumed  1105 

This  horrid  feast,  but  that  thou  wast  not  first 

To  set  it  forth.     This  was  thy  fell  intent. 


Thyestes 


331 


To  arrange  a  feast  like  this  unknown  to  me, 

And  with  their  mother's  aid  attack  my  sons, 

Anil  with  a  like  destruction  lay  them  low. 

But  this  one  thing  opposed — thou  thought'st  them  thine. 
Thyestes:  (The  gods  will  grant  me  vengeance.     Unto  them  11 10 

Do  I  intrust  thy  fitting  penalty. 
Atreus:        And  to  thy  sons  do  I  deliver  thee. 


TROADES 


TROADES 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

J  Agamemnon    King  of  the  Greek  forces  in  the  war  against  Troy. 
JPyrrhus   .    .   Son  of  Achilles,  one  of  the  active  leaders  in  the  final  events  of 

the  war. 
Ulysses    .    .   King  of  Ithaca,  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  crafty  of  the 

Greek  chiefs  before  Troy. 

*  Calchas    .    .  A  priest  and  prophet  among  the  Greeks. 
'  Talthybius  .   A  Greek  messenger. 

*  An  Old  Man  Faithful  to  Andromache. 
Astyanax     .   Little  son  of  Hector  and  Andromache. 

«  Hecuba    .    .   Widow  of  Priam,  one  of  the  Trojan  captives. 
.  1  ndromache   Widow  of  Hector,  a  Trojan  captive. 
Helena     .    .   Wife  of  Menelaiis,  king  of  Sparta,  and  afterward  of  Paris, 

a  prince  of  Troy;  the  exciting  cause  of  the  Trojan  war. 
Polyxcna     .   Daughter  of  Hecuba  and  Priam  (persona  muta). 

*  Chorus     .    .   Of  captive  Trojan  women. 

The  SCENE  is  laid  on  the  seashore,  with  the  smouldering  ruins  of  Troy 
in  the  background.  The  time  is  the  day  before  the  embarkation  of  the 
Greeks  on  their  homeward  journey. 


The  long  and  toilsome  siege  of  Troy  is  done.  Her  stately  palaces  and 
massive  walls  have  been  overthrown  and  lie  darkening  the  sky  with  their  still 
smouldering  ruins.  Her  heroic  defenders  are  either  slain  or  scattered  seek- 
ing other  homes  in  distant  lands.  The  victorious  Greeks  have  gathered  the 
rich  spoils  oj  Troy  upon  the  shore,  among  these,  the  Trojan  women  who  have 
suffered  the  usual  fate  of  women  when  a  city  is  sacked.  They  await  the  lot 
which  shall  assign  them  to  their  Grecian  lords  and  scatter  them  among  the 
cities  of  their  foes.     All  things  are  ready  for  the  start. 

But  now  the  ghost  of  Achilles  has  risen  from  the  tomb,  and  demanded 
that  Polyxena  be  sacrificed  to  him  before  the  Greeks  shall  be  allowed  to  sail 
away.  And  Calchas,  also,  bids  that  Astyanax  be  slain,  for  only  thus  can 
Greece  be  safe  from  any  future  Trojan  war.  And  thus  the  Trojan  captives, 
who  have  so  long  endured  the  pains  of  war,  must  suffer  still  this  double 
tragedy. 


Hecubt 


a: 


ACT  I 

Whoe'er  in  royal  power  has  put  his  trust, 
(  And  proudly  lords  it  in  his  princely  halls; 
]  Who  fears  no  shifting  of  the  winds  of  fate, 
But  fondly  gives  his  soul  to  present  joys: 
Let  him  my  lot  and  thine,  O  Troy,  behold. 
\  For  of  a  truth  did  tfortun^ never  show 
In  plainer  wise  the  frailty  of  the  prop 
That  doth  support  a  king;  since  by  her  hand 
Brought  low,  behold,  proud  Asia's  capitol, 
The  work  of  heavenly  hands,  lies  desolate. 
From  many  kinds  the  warring  princes  came 
To  aid  her  cause:  from  where  the  Tanais 
His  frigid  waves  in  seven-fold  channel  pours; 
And  that  far  land  which  greets  the  newborn  day, 
Where  Tigris  mingles  with  the  ruddy  sea 

{His  tepid  waves;  and  where  the  Amazon, 
Within  the  view  of  wandering  Scythia 
Arrays  her  virgin  ranks  by  Pontus'  shores. 
Yet  here,  o'erthrown,  our  ancient  city  lies, 
Herself  upon  herself  in  ruins  laid; 
Her  once  proud  walls  in  smouldering  heaps  recline, 
Mingling  their  ashes  with  our  fallen  homes. 
The  palace  flames  on  high,  while  far  and  near 
The  stately  city  of  Assaracus 
Is  wrapped  in  gloomy  smoke.     Yet  e'en  the  flames 
Keep  not  the  victor's  greedy  hands  from  spoil; 
And  Troy,  though  in  the  grasp  of  fiery  death, 
Is  pillaged  still.     The  face  of  heaven  is  hid 
f  By  that  dense,  wreathing  smoke;  the  shining  day, 
As  if  o'erspread  by  some  thick,  lowering  cloud, 
Grows  black  and  foul  beneath  the  ashy  storm. 
The  victor  stands  with  still  unsated  wrath, 
Eyeing  that  stubborn  town  of  Ilium, 
And  scarce  ;it  hist  forgives  those  ten  long  years 
Of  bloody  strife.     Anon,  as  he  beholds 

337 


10 


IS 


20 


The    T  r  a  g  e  d  i"e  s    of    Seneca 

That  mighty  city,  though  in  ruins  laid, 

He  starts  with  fear;  and  though  he  plainly  sees 

His  foe  o'ercome,  he  scarce  can  comprehend  25 

That  she  amid  be  o'ercome.     The  Dunlan  spoil 
Is  heaped  on  high,  a  booty  vast,  which  Greece, 
In  all  her  thousand  ships,  can  scarce  bestow. 

Now  witness,  ye  divinities  whose  face 
Was  set  against  our  state,  my  fatherland 
In  ashes  laid;  and  thou,  proud  king  of  Troy, 
Who  in  thy  city's  overthrow  hast  found 
A  fitting  tomb;  thou  shade  of  mighty  Hector, 
In  whose  proud  strength  abiding,  Ilium  stood;  30 

Likewise  ye  thronging  ghosts,  my  children  all, 
But  lesser  shades:     whatever  ill  has  come; 
Whatever  Phoebus'  bride  with  frenzied  speech, 
Though  all  discredited,  hath  prophesied;  35 

I,  Hecuba,  myself  foresaw,  what  time, 
With  unborn  child  o'erweighed,  I  dreamed  a  dream 
That  I  had  borne  a  flaming  brand.     And  though, 
Cassandra-like,  I  told  my  fears,  my  warnings, 
Like  our  Cassandra's  words  in  after  time, 
Were  all  in  vain.     'Tis  not  the  Ithacan, 
Nor  yet  his  trusty  comrade  of  the  night, 
Nor  that  false  traitor,  Sinon,  who  has  cast 
The  flaming  brands  that  wrought  our  overthrow: 
,\  Mine  is  the  fire — 'tis  by  my  brands  ye  burn.  40 

But  why  dost  thou  bewail  the  city's  fall, 
With  ancient  gossip's  prattle  ?     Turn  thy  mind, 
Unhappy  one,  to  nearer  woes  than  these. 
Troy's  fall,  though  sad,  is  ancient  story  now. 
I  saw  the  horrid  slaughter  of  the  king, 

Defiling  the  holy  altar  with  its  stain,  45 

When  bold  Aeacides,  with  savage  hand 
Entwined  in  helpless  Priam's  hoary  locks, 
Drew  back  his  sacred  head,  and  thrust  the  sword 
Hilt-buried  in  his  unresisting  side. 
And  when  he  plucked  the  deep-driven  weapon  back, 
So  weak  and  bloodless  was  our  aged  king, 
The  deadly  blade  came  almost  stainless  forth.  50 


T  R  O  A  D  E  s  339 


Whose  thirst  for  blood  had  not  been  satisfied 

By  that  old  man  just  slipping  o'er  the  verge 

Of  life?     Whom  would  Dot  heavenly  witnesses 

Restrain  from  crime  ?     Who  would  not  stay  his  hand 

Before  the  sacred  altar,  last  resort 

Of  fallen  thrones?     Yet  he,  our  noble  Priam, 

The  king,  and  father  of  so  many  kings, 

Lies  like  the  merest  peasant  unentombed;  55 

And,  though  all  Troy's  aflame,  there's  not  a  brand 

To  light  his  pyre  and  give  him  sepulture. 

And  still  the  heavenly  powers  are  not  appeased. 

Behold  the  urn;  and,  subject  to  its  lot, 

The  maids  and  matrons  of  our  princely  line, 

Who  wait  their  future  lords.     To  whom  shall  I, 

An  aged  and  unprized  allotment,  fall  ? 

One  Grecian  lord  has  fixed  his  longing  eyes 

On  Hector's  queen;  another  prays  the  lot 

To  grant  to  him  the  bride  of  Helenus;  60 

Antenor's  spouse  is  object  of  desire, 

And  e'en  thy  hand,  Cassandra,  hath  its  suitor: 
}  My  lot  alone  they  deprecate  and  fear. 

And  can  ye  cease  your  plaints?     O  captive  throng, 

Come  beat  upon  your  breasts,  and  let  the  sound 

Of  your  loud  lamentations  rise  anew, 

The  while  we  celebrate  in  fitting  wise 

Troy's  funeral;  let  fatal  Ida,  seat  65 

Of  that  ill-omened  judgment,  straight  resound 

With  echoes  of  our  pitiful  refrain. 
Chorus:  Not  an  untrained  band,  to  tears  unknown, 

SThou  callest  to  grief,  for  our  tears  have  rained 
In  streams  unending  through  the  years, 
Since  the  time  when  the  Phrygian  guest  arrived 
At  the  friendly  court  of  Tvndarus,  70 

Sailing  the  sea  in  his  vessel  framed 
I  mm  the  sacred  pines  of  Cybele. 
Ten  winters  have  whitened  Ida's  slopes, 
So  often  stripped  for  our  funeral  pyres; 
Ten  years  have  ripened  the  waving  grain 
Which  the  trembling  reaper  has  garnered  in 


340 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


From  wide  Sigeao  harvest -fields:  75 

JBut  never  a  day  was  without  its  grief, 

Never  a  night  hut  renewed  our  woe. 

Then  on  with  the  wailing  and  on  witli  the  blows; 

And  thou,  i>oor  fate  smitten  queen,  be  our  guide,  80 

Our  mistress  in  mourning;  we'll  obey  thy  commands, 

Well  trained  in  the  wild  liturgy  of  despair. 
Hecuba:         1  Then,  trusty  comrades  of  oiirv  fate, 

Unbind  your  tresses  and  let  them  flow 

Over  your  shoulders  bent  with  grief, 

The  while  with  Troy's  slow-cooling  dust  85 

Ye  sprinkle  them.     Lay  bare  your  arms, 

Strip  from  your  breasts  their  covering; 

Why  veil  your  beauty  ?     Shame  itself  90 

Is  held  in  captive  bonds.     And  now 

Let  your  hands  wave  free  to  the  quickening  blows 

That  resound  to  your  wailings.     So,  now  are  ye  ready, 

And  thus  it  is  well.     I  behold  once  more 

My  old-time  Trojan  band.     Now  stoop 

And  fill  your  hands;  'tis  right  to  take 

Her  dust  at  least  from  fallen  Troy. 
SNow  let  the  long-pent  grief  leap  forth,  95 

'And  surpass  your  accustomed  bounds  of  woe. 

Oh,  weep  for  Hector,  wail  and  weep. 
Chorus:  Our  hair,  in  many  a  funeral  torn,  100 

We  loose;  and  o'er  our  streaming  locks 

Troy's  glowing  ashes  lie  bestrewn. 

From  our  shoulders  the  veiling  garments  fall,  105 

And  our  breasts  invite  the  smiting  hands. 
I  Now,  now,  O  grief,  put  forth  thy  strength. 

Let  the  distant  shores  resound  with  our  mourning-, 
)  And  let  Echo  who  dwells  in  the  slopes  of  the  mountains 

Repeat  all  our  wailings,  not,  after  her  wont,  no 

\  With  curt  iteration  returning  the  end. 

Let  earth  hear  and  heed;  let  the  sea  and  the  sky 

Record  all  our  grief.     Then  smite,  O  ye  hands, 

With  the  strength  of  frenzy  batter  and  bruise. 

With  crying  and  blows  and  the  pain  of  the  smiting —      115 

Oh,  weep  for  Hector,  wail  and  weep. 


' 


T  R  O AD  E  S 


341 


Hecuba:  Our  hero,  for  thee  the  blows  are  descending, 

On  arms  and  shoulders  that  stream  with  our  blood; 
For  thee  our  brows  endure  rough  strokes, 
And  our  breasts  are  mangled  with  pitiless  hands. 
Now  flow  the  old  wounds,  reopened  anew, 
That  bled  at  thy  death,  the  chief  cause  of  our  sorrow. 
■4  O  prop  of  our  country,  delayer  of  fate, 
Our  Ilium's  bulwark,  our  mighty  defender, 
Our  strong  tower  wast  thou;  secure  on  thy  shoulders, 
Our  city  stood  leaning  through  ten  weary  years. 
By  thy  power  supported,  with  thee  has  she  fallen, 
Our  country  and  Hector  united  in  doom. 
Now  turn  to  another  the  tide  of  your  mourning; 
[Let  Priam  receive  his  due  meed  of  your  tears. 

Chorus:  Receive  our  lamentings,  O  Phrygia's  ruler; 

-\We  weep  for  thy  death,  who  wast  twice  overcome. 
Naught  once  did  Troy  suffer  while  thou  didst  rule  o'er 

her: 
Twice  fell  her  proud  walls  from  the  blows  of  the  Gre- 
cians, 
And  twice  was  she  pierced  by  great  Hercules'  darts. 
Now  all  of  our  Hecuba's  offspring  have  perished, 
And  the  proud  band  of  kings  who  came  to  our  aid; 
Thy  death  is  the  last — our  father,  our  ruler — 
Struck  down  as  a  victim  to  Jove  the  Almighty, 
All  helpless  and  lone,  a  mute  corpse  on  the  ground. 

Hecuba:  Nay,  give  to  another  your  tears  and  your  mourning, 

And  weep  not  the  death  of  Priam  our  king. 
But  call  yc  him  blessed  the  rather;  for  free, 
To  the  deep  world  of  shadows  he  travels,  and  never 
Upon  his  bowed  neck  the  base  yoke  shall  he  bear. 
No  proud  sons  of  Atreus  shall  call  him  their  captive, 
No  crafty  Ulysses  his  eyes  shall  behold; 
As  boast  of  their  triumphs  he  shall  not  bear  onward 
In  humble  submission  their  prizes  of  war. 
Those  free,  royal  hands  to  the  scepter  accustomed, 
Shall  never  be  bound  at  his  back  like  a  slave, 
As  he  follows  the  car  of  the  triumphing  chieftain, 
A  king  led  in  fetters,  the  gaze  of  the  town. 


1 20 


125 


J3° 


135 


140 


145 


!5° 


155 


1 1 a  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Chorus:  Hail!   Priam  tin-  Messed  we  all  do  proclaim  him; 

For  himself  and  his  kingdom  be  rules  yet  below; 
Now  through  the  still  depths  of  Elysium's  shadows 
'Midst  calm,  happy  spirits  he  seeks  the  great  Hector.       160 
Then  hail,  happy  Priam  I  Hail  all  who  in  battle 
Have  lost  life  and  country,  but  liberty  gained. 

ACT  II 

Taltkybius:  Alas,  'tis  thus  the  Greeks  are  ever  doomed 
To  lie  impatient  of  the  winds'  delay, 
Whether  on  war  or  homeward  journey  bent.  165 

Chorus:       Tell  thou  the  cause  of  this  the  Greeks'  .delay. 

What  god  obstructs  the  homeward-leading  paths  ? 

Taltkybius i  My  soul  doth  quake,  and  all  my  limbs  with  fear 
JDo  tremble.     Scarce  is  credence  given  to  tales 
That  do  transcend  the  truth.     And  yet  I  swear, 
"With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  what  I  relate. 

Now  with  his  level  rays  the  morning  sun  170 

Just  grazed  the  summits  of  the  hills,  and  day 
Had  vanquished  night;  when  suddenly  the  earth, 
'Mid  rumblings  hidden  deep  and  terrible, 
)To  her  profoundest  depths  convulsive  rocked. 
\The  tree-tops  trembled,  and  the  lofty  groves 
.Gave  forth  a  thunderous  sound  of  crashing  boughs; 
While  down  from  Ida's  rent  and  rugged  slopes  175 

The  loosened  bowlders  rolled.     And  not  alone 
\The  earth  did  quake:  behold,  the  swelling  sea 
Perceived  its  own  Achilles  drawing  near, 
And  spread  its  waves  abroad.     Then  did  the  ground 
\Asunder  yawn,  revealing  mighty  caves, 
And  gave  a  path  from  Erebus  to  earth. 

And  then-toe"  high -heaped  sepulcher  was  rent,    •  180 

From  which  there  sprang  Achilles'  mighty  shade, 
In  guise  as  when,  in  practice  for  thy  fates, 
O  Troy,  he  prostrate  laid  the  Thracian  arms, 
Or  slew  the  son  of  Neptune,  doomed  to  wear 
The  swan's  white  plumes;  or  when,  amidst  the  ranks 
In  furious  battle  raging,  he  the  streams  185 

Did  choke  with  corpses  of  the  slain,  and  Xanthus 


T  R  O  A  D  E  S  J43 


Crept  sluggishly  along  with  bloody  waves; 
Or  when  he  stood  as  victor  in  his  car, 
Plying  the  reins  and  dragging  in  the  dust 
Great  Hector's  body  and  the  Trojan  state. 
So  there  he  stood  and  filled  the  spreading  shore  190 

With  wrathful  words:  "Go,  get  you  gone,  ye  race 
Of  weaklings,  bear  away  the  honors  due 
My  manes;  loose  your  thankless  ships,  and  sail 
Across  my  seas.     By  no  slight  offering 
Did  ye  aforetime  stay  Achilles'  wrath; 
And  now  a  greater  shall  ye  pay.     Behold, 
I  'olyxena,  once  pledged  to  me  in  life,  r  195 

Must  by  the  hand  of  Pyrrhus  to  my  shade 
Be  led,  and  with  her  blood  my  tomb  bedew." 
So  spake  Achilles  and  the  realms  of  day 
He  left  for  night  profound,  reseeking  Dis; 
And  as  he  plunged  within  the  depths  of  earth, 
[The  yawning  chasm  closed  and  left  no  trace. 
The  sea  lies  tranquil,  motionless;  the  wind 
Its  boisterous  threats  abates,  and  where  but  now  200 

The  storm -tossed  waters  raged  in  angry  mood, 
The  gentle  waves  lap  harmless  on  the  shore; 
While  from  afar  the  band  of  Tritons  sounds 
The  marriage  chorus  of  their  kindred  lord. 

[Exit.] 
[Enter  Pyrrhus  and  Agamemnon.] 
Pyrrhus:      Now  that  you  homeward  fare,  and  on  the  sea 
Your  joyful  sails  would  spread,  my  noble  sire 
Is  quite  forgot,  though  by  his  single  hand 
Was  mighty  Troy  o'erthrown;  for,  though  his  death  205 

Some  respite  granted  to  the  stricken  towp,  r 
She  stood  but  as  some  sorely  smitten  tree, 
That  sways  uncertain.  <  hoosing  where  to  fall. 
Though  even  now  ye  seek  to  make  amends 
1'or  your  neglect,  and  haste  to  grant  the  thing 
I  [e  asks,  'tis  but  a  tardy  recompense. 
Long  since,  the  other  chieftains  of  the  Greeks 
Have  gained  their  just  reward.      What  lesser  prize 
Should  his  great  valor  claim  ?     Or  is  it  naught  210 


Ml  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

That,  though  his  mother  bade  him  shun  the  war, 
And  spend  his  life  in  long,  inglorious  ease, 
Surpassing  even  I'vlian  Nestor's  years, 
I  Ee  cast  his  mother's  shamming  garments  off. 
Confessing  him  the  hero  that  he  was? 

When  Telephus,  in  pride  of  royal  power,  215 

Forbade  our  progress  through  his  kingdom's  bounds, 
lie  stained  with  royal  blood  the  untried  hand 
That  young  Achilles  raised.     Yet  once  again 
He  felt  that  selfsame  hand  in  mercy  laid 
Upon  his  wound  to  heal  him  of  its  smart. 
Then  did  Eetion,  smitten  sore,  behold 
His  city  taken  and  his  realm  o'erthrown; 

By  equal  fortune  fell  Lyrnessus'  walls,  220 

For  safety  perched  upon  a  ridgy  height, 
Whence  came  that  captive  maid,  Briseis  fair; 
And  Chrysa,  too,  lies  low,  the  destined  cause 
Of  royal  strife;  and  Tenedos,  and  the  land 
Which  on  its  spreading  pastures  feeds  the  flocks  225 

Of  Thracian  shepherds,  Scyros;  Lesbos  too, 
Upon  whose  rocky  shore  the  sea  in  twain 
Is  cleft;  and  Cilia,  which  Apollo  loved. 
All  these  my  father  took,  and  eke  the  towns 
Whose  walls  Caycus  with  his  vernal  flood 
.    Doth  wash  against.     This  widespread  overthrow 
Of  tribes,  this  fearful  and  destructive  scourge, 
That  swept  through  many  towns  with  whirlwind  power —    230 
This  had  been  glory  and  the  height  of  fame 
For  other  chiefs;  'twas  but  an  incident 
In  great  Achilles'  journey  to  the  war. 
So  came  my  father  and  such  wars  he  waged 
While  but  preparing  war.     And  though  I  pass 
In  silence  all  his  other  merits,  still 

Would  mighty  Hector's  death  be  praise  enough.  235 

My  father  conquered  Troy;  the  lesser  task 
Of  pillage  and  destruction  is  your  own. 
'Tis  pleasant  thus  to  laud  my  noble  sire 
And  all  his  glorious  deeds  pass  in  review: 
Before  his  father's  eyes  did  Hector  lie, 


T  R  O  A  D  E  s  345 


Of  life  despoiled;  and  Memnon,  swarthy  son 

Of  bright  Aurora,  goddess  of  the  dawn, 

For  whose  untimely  death  his  mother's  face 

Was  sicklied  o'er  with  grief,  while  day  was  veiled  240 

In  darkness.     When  the  heaven-born  Memnon  fell, 

Achilles  trembled  at  his  victory; 

For  in  that  fall  he  learned  the  bitter  truth 

That  even  sons  of  goddesses  may  die. 
\  Then,  'mongst  our  latest  foes,  the  Amazons, 
{  Fierce  maidens,  felt  my  father's  deadly  power. 

So,  if  thou  rightly  estimate  his  deeds, 

Thou  ow'st  Achilles  all  that  he  can  ask, 

E'en  though  he  seek  from  Argos  or  Mycenae  245 

Some  high-born  maid.     And  dost  thou  hesitate 

And  haggle  now,  inventing  scruples  new-f"" 

And  deem  it  barbarous  to  sacrifice 

This  captive  maid  of  Troy  to  Peleus'  son? 

But  yet  for  Helen's  sake  didst  thou  devote 

Thy  daughter  to  the  sacrificial  knife. 

I  make  in  this  no  new  or  strange  request, 

But  only  urge  a  customary  rite. 
Agamemnon:  'Tis  the  common  fault  of  youth  to  have  no  check  250 

I  On  passion's  force;  while  others  feel  alone 

The  sweeping  rush  of  this  first  fire  of  youth, 

His  father's  spirit  urges  Pyrrhus  on. 

I  once  endured  unmoved  the  blustering  threats 

Of  proud  Achilles,  swoll'n  with  power;  and  now, 

My  patience  is  sufficient  still  lo  bear 

His  son's  abuse.     Why  do  you  seek  to  smirch  255 

With  cruel  murder  the  illustrious  shade 

Of  that  famed  chief?     'Tis  fitting  first  to  learn 

Within  what  bounds  the  victor  may  command, 

The  vanquished  suffer.     Never  has  for  long 
Unbridled  power  been  able  to  endure, 
But  lasting  sway  [he  self  controlled  enjoy. 

The  higher  fortune  raises  human  hopes,  260 

The  more  should  fortune's  favorite  control 

His  vaulting  pride,  and  tremble  as  he  views 

The  changing  fates  of  life,  and  fear  the  gods 


346  The    Tragedies     or    Seneca 

Who  have  uplifted  him  above  his  mates. 

By  my  own  course  of  conquest  have  I  learned 
[That  mighty  kings  can  straightway  come  to  naught. 

Should  Troy  o'erthroWD  exalt  us  overmuch  ? 

Behold,  we  stand  today  whence  she  has  fallen.  265 

I  own  that  in  the  past  too  haughtily 

Have  1  my  sway  o'er  fallen  chieftains  borne; 
jBut  thought  of  fortune's  gift  has  checked  my  pride, 

Since  she  unto  another  might  have  given 
SThese  selfsame  gifts.     O  fallen  king  of  Troy, 

\Thou  mak'st  me  proud  of  conquest  over  thee, 

(Thou  mak'st  me  fear  that  I  may  share  thy  fate.'  270 

Why  should  I  count  the  scepter  anything 
J  But  empty  honor  and  a  tinsel  show? 

This  scepter  one  short  hour  can  take  away, 

Without  the  aid,  perchance,  of  countless  ships 
''And  ten  long  years  of  war.     The  steps  of  ,fate 

Do  not  for  all  advance  with  pace  so  slow.  275 

For  me,  I  will  confess  ('tis  with  thy  grace, 

O  land  of  Greece,  I  speak)  I  have  desired 

To  see  the  pride  and  power  of  Troy  brought  low; 

But  that  her  walls  and  homes  should  be  o'erthrown 

In  utter  ruin  have  I  never  wished.     ,\ 

But  a  wrathful  foe,  by  greedy  passion  driven, 

And  heated  by  the  glow  of  victory,  / 

Within  the  shrouding  darkness  of  the  night,  280 

Cannot  be  held  in  check.     If  any  act 

Upon  that  fatal  night  unworthy  seemed 

Or  cruel,  'twas  the  deed  of  heedless  wrath, 

And  darkness  which  is  ever  fury's  spur, 

And  the  victorious  sword,  whose  lust  for  blood, 

When  once  in  blood  imbued,  is  limitless. 

1  Since  Troy  has  lost  her  all,  seek  not  to  grasp  285 

The  last  poor  fragments  that  remain.     Enough, 
And  more  has  she  endured  of  punishment. 
But  that  a  maid  of  royal  birth  should  fall 
An  offering  upon  Achilles'  tomb, 
Bedewing  his  harsh  ashes  with  her  blood, 
While  that  foul  murder  gains  the  honored  name 


T  r  o  a  d  e  s  347 


Of  wedlock,  I  shall  not  permit     On  me 

The  blame  of  all  will  come;  for  he  who  sin  290 

Forbids  not  when  he  can,  commits  the  sin. 

Pyrrhus:     Shall  no  reward  Achilles'  shade  obtain? 

Agamemnon:  Yea,  truly;  all  the  Greeks  shall  sing  his  praise, 
And  unknown  lands  shall  hear  his  mighty  name. 
But  if  his  shade  demand  a  sacrifice  295 

Of  out-poured  blood,  go  take  our  richest  flocks, 
And  shed  their  blood  upon  thy  father's  tomb; 
^But  let  no  mother's  tears  pollute  the  rite. 
What  barbarous  custom  this,  that  living  man 
Should  to  the  dead  be  slain  in  sacrifice  ? 
Then  spare  thy  father's  name  the  hate  and  scorn 
Which  by  such  cruel  worship  it  must  gain.  300 

Pyrrhus:    (Thou,  swoll'n  witli  pride  so  long  as  happy  fate 
^Uplifts  thy  soul,  but  weak  and  spent  with  fear 
When  fortune  frowns;  O  hateful  king  of  kings, 
Is  now  thy  heart  once  more  with  sudden  love 
vOf  this  new  maid  inflamed?     Shalt  thou  alone 

So  often  bear  away  my  father's  spoils  ?  305 

By  this  right  hand  he  shall  receive  his  own. 

And  if  thou  dost  refuse,  and  keep  the  maid, 

A  greater  victim  will  I  slay,  and  one 

More  worthy  Pyrrhus'  gift;  for  all  too  long  > 

From  royal  slaughter  hath  my  hand  been  free,       • 

And  Priam  asks  an  equal  sacrifice.  310 

Agamemnon:  Far  be  it  from  my  wish  to  dim  the  praise 

That  thou  dost  claim  for  this  most  glorious  deed — 
Old  Priam  slain  by  thy  barbaric  sword, 
Thy  father's  suppliant. 

Pyrrhus:  I  know  full  well 

My  father's  suppliants — and  well  I  know 

His  enemies.     Yet  royal  Priam  came, 

And  made  his  plea  before  my  father's  fan  ;  315 

Put  thou,  o'ercomc  with  fear,  not  brave  enough 

Thyself  to  make  request,  within  thy  tent 

Didst  trembling  hide,  and  thy  desires  consign 

To  braver  men,  that  they  might  plead  for  thee. 

Agamemnon:  Put,  of  a  truth,  no  fear  thy  father  felt; 


I 


348  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Bui  while  our  Greece  lay  bleeding,  and  lier  ships 

With  hostile  fire  were  threatened,  there  he  lay 

Supine  and  thoughtless  of  his  warlike  arms,  320 

And  idly  strumming  on  his  tuneful  lyre. 

Pyrrkus:     Then  mighty  Hector,  scornful  of  thy  arms, 

Vet  felt  such  wholesome  fear  of  that  same  lyre, 
That  our  Thessalian  ships  were  left  in  peace. 

Agamemnon:  An  equal  peace  did  Hector's  father  find 

When  he  betook  him  to  Achilles'  ships.  325 

PyrrJius:     'Tis  regal  thus  to  spare  a  kingly  life. 

Agamemnon:  Why  then  didst  thou  a  kingly  life  despoil  ? 

Pyrrkus:     But  mercy  oft  doth  offer  death  for  life. 

Agamemnon:  Doth  mercy  now  demand  a  maiden's  blood  ?  330 

PyrrJius:     Canst  thou  proclaim  such  sacrifice  a  sin  ? 

Agamemnon:  A  king  must  love  his  country  more  than  child. 

Pyrrhus:     No  law  the  wretched  captive's  life  doth  spare. 

Agamemnon:  What  law  forbids  not,  this  let  shame  forbid. 

PyrrJius:     'Tis  victor's  right  to  do  whate'er  he  will.  335 

Agamemnon:  Then  should  he  will  the  least  who  most  can  do. 

PyrrJius:     Dost  thou  boast  thus,  from  whose  tyrannic  reign 
Of  ten  long  years  but  now  the  Greeks  I  freed  ? 

Agamemnon:  Such  airs  from  Scyros! 

PyrrJius:  Thence  no  brother's  blood. 

Agamemnon:  Hemmed  by  the  sea! 

Pyrrhus:  Yet  that  same  sea  is  ours.  340 

But  as  for  Pelops'  house,  I  know  it  well. 

Agamemnon:  Thou  base-bom  son  of  maiden's  secret  sin, 
And  young  Achilles,  scarce  of  man's  estate — 

PyrrJius:     Yea,  that  Achilles  who,  by  right  of  birth, 

Claims  equal  sovereignty  of  triple  realms:  345 

His  mother  rules  the  sea,  to  Aeacus 

The  shades  submit,  to  mighty  Jove  the  heavens. 

Agamemnon:  Yet  that  Achilles  lies  by  Paris  slain ! 
j  PyrrJius:     But  by  Apollo's  aid,  who  aimed  the  dart; 
For  no  god  dared  to  meet  him  face  to  face. 

Agamemnon:  I  could  have  checked  thy  words,  and  curbed  thy  tongue, 

Too  bold  in  evil  speech;  but  this  my  sword  350 

Knows  how  to  spare.     But  rather  let  them  call 
The  prophet  Calchas,  who  the  will  of  heaven 


T  R  0*A  D  E  S 


349 


Can  tell.     If  fate  demands  the  maid,  I  yield. 

[Enter  Calchas.] 
Thou  who  from  bonds  didst  loose  the  Grecian  ships, 
And  bring  to  end  the  slow  delays  of  war; 
Who  by  thy  mystic  art  canst  open  heaven, 
And  read  with  vision  clear  the  awful  truths 
Which  sacrificial  viscera  proclaim; 

To  whom  the  thunder's  roll,  the  long,  bright  trail  355 

Of  stars  that  flash  across  the  sky,  reveal 
\  The  hidden  tilings  of  fate;  whose  every  word 
Is  uttered  at  a  heavy  cost  to  me: 
What  is  the  will  of  heaven,  O  Calchas;  speak, 
And  rule  us  with  the  mastery  of  fate. 
Calchas:     The  Greeks  must  pay  th'  accustomed  price  to  death,  360 

Ere  on  the  homeward  seas  they  take  their  way. 
The  maiden  must  be  slaughtered  on  the  tomb 
Of  great  Achilles.     Thus  the  rite  perform: 
As  Grecian  maidens  are  in  marriage  led 
By  other  hands  unto  the  bridegroom's  home, 
So  Pyrrhus  to  his  father's  shade  must  lead 
His  promised  bride.  365 

But  not  this  cause  alone 
Delays  our  ships:  a  nobler  blood  than  thine, 
Polyxena,  is  due  unto  the  fates; 
For  from  yon  lofty  tower  must  Hector's  son, 
Astyanax,  be  hurled  to  certain  death. 
Then  shall  our  vessels  hasten  to  the  sea, 

And  fill  the  waters  with  their  thousand  sails.  370 

[Exeunt.] 
Chorus:  When  in  the  tomb  the  dead  is  laid, 

When  the  last  rites  of  love  are  paid; 

When  eyes  no  more  behold  the  light, 

Closed  in  the  sleep  of  endless  night; 
^  Survives  there  aught,  can  we  believe  ? 

Or  does  an  idle  tale  deceive  ?  375 

What  boots  it,  then,  to  yield  the  breath 

A  willing  sacrifice  to  death, 

If  still  we  gain  no  dreamless  peace, 

And  find  from  living  no  release  ? 


350  The    Tragedies    of     Seneca 

Say,  do  we,  dying,  end  all  pain? 

Docs  QO  Leasl  part  of  US  remain  ? 

When  from  this  perishable  clay 

The  flitting  breath  has  sped  away; 
Does  then  the  soul  that  dissolution  share 
And  vanish  into  elemental  air?  380 

Whate'er  the  morning  sunbeam  knows, 

Whate'er  his  setting  rays  disclose; 

Whate'er  is  bathed  by  Ocean  wide, 

In  ebbing  or  in  flowing  tide: 

Time  all  shall  snatch  with  hungry  greed, 

With  mythic  Pegasean  speed.  385 

Swift  is  the  course  of  stars  in  flight, 

Swiftly  the  moon  repairs  her  light; 

Swiftly  the  changing  seasons  go, 

While  time  speeds  on  with  endless  flow: 

But  than  all  these,  with  speed  more  swift, 

Toward  fated  nothingness  we  drift.  390 

For  when  within  the  tomb  we're  laid, 

No  soul  remains,  no  hov'ring  shade 
Like  curling  smoke,  like  clouds  before  the  blast, 
This  animating  spirit  soon  has  passed.  395 

Since  naught  remains,  and  death  is  naught 

But  life's  last  goal,  so  swiftly  sought; 

Let  those  who  cling  to  life  abate 

Their  fond  desires,  and  yield  to  fate; 

And  those  who  fear  death's  fabled  gloom, 

Bury  their  cares  within  the  tomb. 

Soon  shall  grim  time  and  yawning  night 

In  their  vast  depths  engulf  us  quite;  4°° 

Impartial  death  demands  the  whole — 

The  body  slays  nor  spares  the  soul. 

Dark  Taenara  and  Pluto  fell, 

And  Cerberus,  grim  guard  of  hell — • 

All  these  but  empty  rumors  seem,  4°5 

The  pictures  of  a  troubled  dream. 
Where  then  will  the  departed  spirit  dwell  ? 
Let  those  who  never  came  to  being  tell. 


Troades  351 


I 


ACT  III 
[Enter  Andromache,  leading  the  Utile  Astyanax.] 
Andromache:  What  d  •  ye  Ihtc,  sad  throng  of  Phrygian  dames? 

Why  tear  your  hair  and  heat  your  wretched  breasts?  410 

Why  stream  your  cheeks  with  tears?     Our  ills  are  light 
If  we  endure  a  grief  that  tears  can  soothe. 
You  mourn  a  Troy  whose  walls  but  now  have  fall'n; 
Troy  fell  for  me  long  since,  when  that  dread  car 
Of  Peleus'  son,  urged  on  at  cruel  speed, 
With  doleful  groanings  'neath  his  massive  weight, 
Dragged  round  the  walls  my  Hector's  mangled  corse.  415 

Since  then,  o'erwhelmed  and  utterly  undone, 
With  stony  resignation  do  I  bear 
Whatever  ills  may  come.     But  for  this  child, 
Long  since  would  I  have  saved  me  from  the  Greeks 
And  followed  my  dear  lord;  but  thought  of  him 
Doth  check  my  purpose  and  forbid  my  death. 
For  his  dear  sake  there  still  remaineth  cause  420 

To  supplicate  the  gods,  an  added  care. 
Through  him  the  richest  fruit  of  woe  is  lost — 
The  fear  of  naught;  and  now  all  hope  of  rest 
\  From  further  ills  is  gone,  for  cruel  fate 
Hath  still  an  entrance  to  my  grieving  heart. 


Most  sad  his  fear,  who  fears  in  hopelessness.  425 

An  Old  Man:  What  sudden  cause  of  fear  hath  moved  thee  so? 
Andromache:  Some  greater  ill  from  mighty  ills  doth  rise. 

^The  fate  of  fallen  Troy  is  not  yet  stayed. 
Old  Man:        What  new  disasters  can  the  fates  invent? 
Andromache:  The  gates  of  deepest  Styx,  those  darksome  realms 

I. est  fear  be  wanting  to  our  overthrow),  430 

Are  opened  wide,  and  forth  from  lowest  Dis 

The  spirit  of  our  buried  foeman  comes. 

(May  Greeks  alone  retrace  their  steps  to  earth  ? 
\For  death  at  least  doth  come  to  all  alike.) 

That  terror  doth  invade  the  hearts  of  all; 

But  what  I  now  relate  is  mine  alone —  435 

A  terrifying  vision  of  the  night. 
Old  Man:    What  was  this  vision  ?     Speak,  and  share  thy  fears. 
Andromache:  Now  kindly  night  had  passed  her  middle  goal, 


,o-  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

And  their  bright  zenith  had  the  Bean  o'crcome. 
Then  came  to  my  afflicted  soul  a  calm  440 

Long  since  unknown,  and  o'er  my  weary  eyes, 
For  one  brief  hour  did  drowsy  slumber  steal, 
If  that  l>e  sleep  -the  stuj>or  of  a  soul 
Forespent  with  ills:  when  suddenly  I  saw 
'  Before  mine  eyes  the  shade  of  Hector  stand; 
Not  in  such  guise  as  when,  with  blazing  torch, 
He  Strove  in  war  against  the  Grecian  ships,  445 

Nor  when,  all  stained  with  blood,  in  battle  fierce 
Against  the  Danai,  he  gained  true  sjx)il 
From  that  feigned  Peleus'  son;  not  such  his  face, 
All  flaming  with  the  eager  battle  light; 
MSut  weary,  downcast,  tear-stained,  like  my  own, 
All  covered  o'er  with  tangled,  bloody  locks.  450 

Still  did  my  joy  leap  up  at  sight  of  him; 
And  then  he  sadly  shook  his  head  and  said: 
"Awake  from  sleep  and  save  our  son  from  death, 
O  faithful  wife.     In  hiding  let  him  lie; 
Thus  only  can  he  life  and  safety  find. 
Away  with  tears — why  dost  thou  mourning  make 
For  fallen  Troy  ?     I  would  that  all  had  fall'n.  455 

Then  haste  thee,  and  to  safety  bear  our  son, 
The  stripling  hope  of  this  our  vanquished  home, 
Wherever  safety  lies." 

So  did  he  speak, 
And  chilling  terror  roused  me  from  my  sleep. 
Now  here,  now  there  I  turned  my  fearful  eyes. 
Forgetful  of  my  son,  I  sought  the  arms 
Of  Hector,  there  to  lay  my  grief.     In  vain: 
For  that  elusive  shade,  though  closely  pressed,  460 

Did  ever  mock  my  clinging,  fond  embrace. 
O  son,  true  offspring  of  thy  mighty  sire, 
Sole  hope  of  Troy,  sole  comfort  of  our  house, 
Child  of  a  stock  of  too  illustrious  blood, 
Too  like  thy  father,  thou:  such  countenance 
My  Hector  had,  with  such  a  tread  he  walked,  465 

"With  such  a  motion  did  he  lift  his  hands, 
Thus  stood  he  straight  with  shoulders  proudly  set, 


Troades  353 


And  thus  he  oft  from  that  high,  noble  brow 

Would  backward  toss  his  flowing  locks. — But  thou, 

O  son,  who  cam'st  too  late  for  Phrygia's  help, 

Too  soon  for  me,  will  that  time  ever  come, 

That  happy  day,  when  thou,  the  sole  defense,  470 

And  sole  avenger  of  our  conquered  Troy, 

Shalt  raise  again  her  fallen  citadel, 

Recall  her  scattered  citizens  from  flight, 

And  give  to  fatherland  and  Phrygians 

Their  name  and  fame  again  ? — Alas,  my  son, 

Such  hopes  consort  not  with  our  present  state. 

Let  the  humble  captive's  fitter  prayer  be  mine —  475 

The  prayer  fur  life. 

Ah  me,  what  spot  remote 

Can  hold  thee  safe?     In  what  dark  lurking-place 

Can  I  bestow  thee  and  abate  my  fears  ? 

Our  city,  once  in  pride  of  wealth  secure, 

And  stayed  on  walls  the  gods  themselves  had  built, 

Well  known  of  all,  the  envy  of  the  world, 

Now  deep  in  ashes  lies,  by  flames  laid  low;  480 

And  from  her  vast  extent  of  temples,  walls 

And  towers,  no  part,  no  lurking-place  remains, 

Wherein  a  child  might  hide.     Where  shall  I  choose 

A  covert  safe  ?     Behold  the  mighty  tomb 

Wherein  his  father's  sacred  ashes  lie, 

Whose  massive  pile  the  enemy  has  spared. 

This  did  old  Priam  rear  in  days  of  power,  485 

Whose  grief  no  stinted  sepulture  bestowed. 
Then  to  his  father  let  me  trust  the  child. — 

But  at  the  very  thought  a  chilling  sweat 

^Invades  my  trembling  limbs,  for  much  I  fear 

The  gruesome  omen  of  the  place  of  death.  490 

Old  Man:    In  danger,  haste  to  shelter  where  ye  may; 

In  safety,  choose. 
Andromache:  What  hiding-place  is  safe 

From  traitor's  eyes? 
Old  Man:  All  witnesses  remove. 

Andromache:  What  if  the  foe  inquire? 
Old  Man:  Then  answer  thus: 


jj 1  The    Tragedies    o  p    Seneca 

"He  perished  in  the  city's  overthrow." 

This  cause  alone  ere  DOW  hath  safety  found 

For  many  from  the  stroke  of  death    belief 

That  they  have  died. 

Andromache:  Hut  scanty  hope  is  left; 

Too  huge  a  weight  of  race  doth  press  him  down. 

Besides,  what  can  it  profit  him  to  hide  495 

Who  must  his  shelter  leave  and  face  the  foe  ? 
()/</  Man:   The  victor's  deadliest  purposes  are  first. 
Andromache:  What  trackless  region,  what  obscure  retreat 

Shall  hold  thee  safe?     Oh,  who  will  bring  us  aid 
In  our  distress  and  doubt  ?     Who  will  defend  ? 
O  thou,  who  always  didst  protect  thine  own,  500 

.My  Hector,  guard  us  still.     Accept  the  trust 
Which  I  in  pious  confidence  impose; 
And  in  the  faithful  keeping  of  thy  dust 
May  he  in  safety  dwell,  to  live  again. 
Then  son,  betake  thee  hither  to  the  tomb. 
Why  backward  strain,  and  shun  that  safe  retreat? 
■U  read  thy  nature  right:  thou  scornest  fear.  505 

But  curb  thy  native  pride,  thy  dauntless  soul, 
And  bear  thee  as  thine  altered  fates  direct. 
\i^>  (lor  see  what  feeble  forces  now  are  left: 
\A  sepulcher,  a  boy,  a  captive  band. 
We  cannot  choose  but  yield  us  to  our  woes. 
Then  come,  make  bold  to  enter  the  abode, 
The  sacred  dwelling  of  thy  buried  sire. 

1  If  fate  assist  us  in  our  wretchedness,  510 

'Twill  be  to  thee  a  safe  retreat;  if  life 
1  The  fates  deny,  thou  hast  a  sepulcher. 
[The  boy  enters  the  tomb,  and  the  gates  are  closed  and  barred  behind 

him.] 
Old  Man:   Now  do  the  bolted  gates  protect  their  charge. 
But  thou,  lest  any  sign  of  fear  proclaim 
Where  thou  hast  hid  the  boy,  come  far  away. 
^Andromache:  Who  fears  from  near  at  hand,  hath  less  of  fear;  515 

But,  if  thou  wilt,  take  we  our  steps  away. 
[Ulysses  is  seen  approaching.] 
Old  Man:   Now  check  thy  words  awhile,  thy  mourning  cease; 


T  r  o  a  i)  e  s  355 


For  hither  bends  the  Ithacan  his  course. 
Andromacm  [with  a  final  appealing  look  toward  the  tomb]:  Yawn  deep, 
O  earth,  and  thou,  my  husband,  rend 

To  even  greater  depths  thy  tomb's  deep  cave,  520 

And  hide  the  sacred  trust  I  gave  to  thee 

Within  the  very  bosom  of  the  pit. 

Now  comes  Ulysses,  grave  and  slow  of  tread; 

Methinks  he  plottcth  mischief  in  his  heart. 
[Enter  Ulysses.] 
Ulysses:     >As  harsh  fate's  minister,  I  first  implore 

That,  though  the  words  are  uttered  by  my  lips,  525 

Thou  count  them  not  my  own.     They  are  the  voice 

Of  all  the  Grecian  chiefs,  whom  Hector's  son 

Doth  still  prohibit  from  that  homeward  voyage 

1S0  long  delayed.     And  him  the  fates  demand. 

A  peace  secure  the  Greeks  can  never  feel, 

And  ever  will  the  backward-glancing  fear  530 

Compel  them  on  defensive  arms  to  lean, 

While  on  thy  living  son,  Andromache, 

The  conquered  Phrygians  shall  rest  their  hopes. 

So  doth  the  augur,  Calchas,  prophesy. 

Yel,  even  if  our  Calchas  spake  no  word, 

Thy  Hector  once  declared  it,  and  I  fear 

Lest  in  his  son  a  second  Hector  dwell;  535 

For  ever  doth  a  noble  scion  grow 

Into  the  stature  of  his  noble  sire. 

Behold  the  little  comrade  of  the  herd, 

His  budding  horns  still  hidden  from  the  sight: 

Full  soon  with  arching  neck  and  lofty  front, 

He  doth  command  and  lead  his  father's  Hock.  540 

The  slender  twig,  just  lopped  from  parent  l)ough, 

Its  mother's  height  and  girth  surpasses  soon, 

And  casts  its  shade  abroad  to  earth  and  sky. 

So  doth  a  spark  within  the  ashes  left, 

I  .  ,|>  into  Same  again  before  the  wind. 

Thy  grief,  I  know,  must  partial  judgmenl  give;  545 

Still,  if  thou  weigh  the  matter,  thou  wilt  grant 

That  after  ten  long  years  of  grievous  war. 

A  veteran  soldier  doeth  well  to  fear 


356  T  hi     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Still  other  yean  of  slaughter,  and  thy  Troy, 

Still  unsubdued.    This  fear  one  cause  alone  550 

Doth  raise — another  I  Ice  tor.     Free  the  Greeks 
From  dread  of  war.    For  this  and  this  alone 
Our  idle  ships  still  wait  along  the  shore. 
And  let  me  not  seem  cruel  in  thy  sight, 
For  that,  compelled  of  fate,  I  seek  thy  son: 
I  should  have  sought  our  chieftain's  son  as  well. 
Then  gently  suffer  what  the  victor  bids.  555 

Andromache:  Oh,  that  thou  wort  within  my  power  to  give, 
My  son,  and  that  I  knew  what  cruel  fate 
Doth  hold  thee  now,  snatched  from  my  eager  arms — 
Where    thou   dost  lie;     then,   though    my    breast    were 

pierced 
With  hostile  spears,  and  though  my  hands  with  chains 
Were  bound,  and  scorching  flames  begirt  my  sides,  560 

Thy  mother's  faith  would  ne'er  betray  her  child. 

0  son,  what  place,  what  lot  doth  hold  thee  now? 
Dost  thou  with  wandering  footsteps  roam  the  fields  ? 
Wast  thou  consumed  amid  the  raging  flames  ? 

Hath  some  rude  victor  reveled  in  thy  blood  ?  565 

Or,  by  some  ravening  beast  hast  thou  been  slain, 
And  liest  now  a  prey  for  savage  birds  ? 
Ulysses:      Away  with  feigned  speech;  no  easy  task 
For  thee  to  catch  Ulysses:  'tis  my  boast 
That  mother's  snares,  and  even  goddesses' 

1  have  o'ercome.     Have  done  with  vain  deceit.  570 
Where  is  thy  son  ? 

Andromache:  And  where  is  Hector  too  ? 

Where  aged  Priam  and  the  Phrygians  ? 

Thou  seekest  one;  my  quest  includes  them  all. 
Ulysses:      By  stern  necessity  thou  soon  shalt  speak 

What  thy  free  will  withholds. 
Andromache:  But  safe  is  she, 

Who  can  face  death,  who  ought  and  longs  to  die. 
Ulysses:    *iBut  death  brought  near  would  still  thy  haughty  words. 
Andromache:  If  'tis  thy  will,  Ulysses,  to  inspire  575 

Andromache  with  fear,  then  threaten  life; 

For  death  has  long  been  object  of  my  prayer. 


Troades  357 


Ulysses:       With  stripes,  with  flames,  with  lingering  pains  of  death 
Shalt  thou  be  forced  to  speak,  against  thy  will, 
What  now  thou  dost  conceal,  and  from  thy  heart 
Its  inmost  secrets  bring.     Necessity  580 

Doth  often  prove  more  strong  than  piety. 

Andromache:  Prepare  thy  flames,  thy  blows,  and  all  the  arts 
Devised  for  cruel  punishment:  dire  thirst, 
Starvation,  ever)'  form  of  suffering; 
Come,  rend  my  vitals  with  the  sword's  deep  thrust; 
In  dungeon,  foul  and  dark,  immure;  do  all  585 

(A  victor,  full  of  wrath  and  fear,  can  do 
Or  dare;  still  will  my  mother  heart,  inspired 
^Vith  high  and  dauntless  courage,  scorn  thy  threats. 
Ulysses:       This  very  love  of  thine,  which  makes  thee  bold, 

Doth  warn  the  Greeks  to  counsel  for  their  sons.  590 

This  strife,  from  home  remote,  these  ten  long  years 

Of  war,  and  all  the  ills  which  Calchas  dreads, 

Would  slight  appear  to  me,  if  for  myself 

I  feared:  but  thou  dost  threat  Telemachus. 
Andromache:  Unwillingly,  Ulysses,  do  I  give 

To  thee,  or  any  Grecian,  cause  of  joy; 

\Yet  must  I  give  it,  and  speak  out  the  woe, 

The  secret  grief  that  doth  oppress  my  soul.  595 

Rejoice,  O  sons  of  Atreus,  and  do  thou, 

According  to  thy  wont,  glad  tidings  bear 

To  thy  companions:  Hector's  son  is  dead. 
Ulysses:       What  proof  have  we  that  this  thy  word  is  true  ? 
Andromache:  May  thy  proud  victor's  strongest  threat  befall, 

And  bring  my  death  with  quick  and  easy  stroke;  600 

May  I  be  buried  in  my  native  soil, 

May  earth  press  lightly  on  my  I  lector's  bones: 

According  as  my  son,  deprived  of  light, 

Amidst  the  dead  doth  lie,  and,  to  the  tomb 

Consigned,  hath  known  the  funeral  honors  due 

To  those  who  live  no  more.  605 

Ulysses  [joyfully]:  Then  arc  the  fates 

Indeed  fulfilled,  since  Sector's  son  is  dead, 

And  I  with  joy  unto  the  Greeks  will  go, 

With  grateful  tale  of  peace  at  last  secure. 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

\  A. si ili\] 
But  stay,  llvsses,  this  rash  joy  of  thine  I 

The  Greeks  will  readily  believe  thy  word; 

Hut  what  dost  thou  believe?— his  mother's  oath. 
Would  then  a  mother  Feign  her  offspring's  death, 

And  fear  no  baleful  omens  of  that  word  ? 
They  omens  fear  who  have  no  greater  dread.  610 

Her  truth  hath  she  upheld  by  Straightest  oath. 
If  that  she  perjured  be,  what  greater  fear 
I  >.>th  vex  her  soul  ?     Now  have  I  urgent  need 
Of  all  my  skill  and  cunning,  all  my  arts, 
By  which  so  oft  Ulysses  hath  prevailed; 
For  truth,  though  long  concealed,  can  never  die. 
\  Now  watch  the  mother;  note  her  grief,  her  tears,  6r5 

Her  sighs;  with  restless  step,  now  here,  now  there, 
She  wanders,  and  she  strains  her  anxious  ears 
To  catch  some  whispered  word.     'Tis  evident, 
She  more  by  present  fear  than  grief  is  swayed. 
So  must  I  ply  her  with  the  subtlest  art. 

[To  Andromache.] 
When  others  mourn,  'tis  fit  in  sympathy 
To  speak  with  kindred  grief;  but  thou,  poor  soul, 
I  bid  rejoice  that  thou  hast  lost  thy  son,  620 

Whom  cruel  fate  awaited;  for  'twas  willed 
That  from  the  lofty  tower  that  doth  remain 
Alone  of  Troy's  proud  walls,  he  should  be  dashed, 
'J  And  headlong  fall  to  quick  and  certain  death. 
Andromache  [aside]:  My  soul  is  faint  within  me,  and  my  limbs 

\  Do  quake;  while  chilling  fear  congeals  my  blood.  625 

Ulysses  [aside]:  She  trembles;  here  must  I  pursue  my  quest. 
Her  fear  betrayeth  her;  wherefore  this  fear 
Will  I  redouble. — 

[To  attendants.] 
Go  in  haste,  my  men, 
And  find  this  foe  of  Greece,  the  last  defense 
Of  Troy,  who  by  his  mother's  cunning  hand 
Is  safe  bestowed,  and  set  him  in  our  midst. 

[Pretending  that  the  boy  is  discovered.] 
'Tis  well!     He's  found.     Now  bring  him  here  with  haste.    630 


T  r  o  a  d  e  s  359 


[To  Andromache.] 
Why  dost  thou  start,  and  tremble  ?     Of  a  truth 
Thy  son  is  dead,  for  so  hast  thou  declared. 

Andromache:  Oh,  that  I  had  just  cause  of  dread.     But  now, 
My  old  habitual  fear  instinctive  starts; 
The  mind  ofttimes  forgets  a  well-conned  woe. 

Ulysses:      Now  since  thy  boy  hath  shunned  the  sacrifice 

That  to  the  walls  was  due,  and  hath  escaped  635 

I  By  grace  of  better  fate,  our  priest  declares 
That  only  can  our  homeward  way  be  won 
If  Hector's  ashes,  scattered  o'er  the  waves, 
Appease  the  sea,  and  this  his  sepulcher 
Be  leveled  with  the  ground.     Since  Hector's  son 
I  fas  failed  to  pay  the  debt  he  owed  to  fate,  640 

Then  Hector's  sacred  dust  must  be  despoiled. 

Andromacka[aside]:  Ah  me,  a  double  fear  distracts  my  soul! 
Here  calls  my  son,  and  here  my  husband's  dust. 
Which  shall  prevail  ?    Attest,  ye  heartless  gods, 
And  ye,  my  husband's  shades,  true  deities:  645 

Naught  else,  O  Hector,  pleased  me  in  my  son, 
Save  only  thee;  then  may  he  still  survive 
To  bring  thine  image  back  to  life  and  me. — 
Shall  then  my  husband's  ashes  be  defiled  ? 
Shall  I  permit  his  bones  to  be  the  sport 
Of  waves,  and  lie  unburied  in  the  sea  ? 

Oh,  rather,  let  my  only  son  be  slain ! —  650 

And  canst  thou,  mother,  see  thy  helpless  child 
x  To  awful  death  given  up  ?     Canst  thou  behold 
His  body  whirling  from  the  battlements? 
I  can,  I  shall  endure  and  suffer  this, 
Provided  only,  by  his  death  appeased, 
The  victor's  hand  shall  spare  my  Hector's  bones. — 
But  he  can  suffer  yet,  while  kindly  fate  655 

Hath  placed  his  sire  beyond  the  reach  of  harm. 
Why  dost  thou  hesitate?     Thou  must  decide 
Whom  thou  wilt  designate  for  punishment. 
(What  doubts  harass  thy  troubled  soul  ?     No  more 
Is  Hector  here. — Oh,  say  not  so;  I  feel 
He  is  both  here  and  there.     But  sure  am  I 


360  'I'lIE      Tr  AC  TIMES     OF      S  EN  EC  A 

Thai  this  my  child  is  still  in  life,  perchance 

To  be  the  avenger  of  his  father's  death.  660 

But  !*>tli  I  cannot  spare.    What  then?    O  soul, 

Save  of  the  two,  whom  most  the  I  rreeks  do  fear. 
Ulysses  [aside].  Now  must  1  force  her  answer. 

[To  Andromache.] 

From  its  base 

Will  I  this  tomb  destroy. 
Andromache:  The  tomb  of  him 

Whose  body  thou  didst  ransom  for  a  price  ? 
Ulysses:       I  will  destroy  it,  and  the  sepulcher 

From  its  high  mound  will  utterly  remove.  665 

Andromache:  The  sacred  faith  of  heaven  do  I  invoke, 

And  just  Achilles'  plighted  word:  do  thou, 

0  Pyrrhus,  keep  thy  father's  sacred  oath. 
Ulysses:      This  tomb  shall  soon  lie  level  with  the  plain. 
Andromache:  Such  sacrilege  the  Greeks,  though  impious, 

Have  never  dared.     'Tis  true  the  sacred  fanes, 

E'en  of  your  favoring  gods,  ye  have  defiled;  670 

But  still  your  wildest  rage  hath  spared  our  tombs. 

1  will  resist,  and  match  your  warriors'  arms 
With  my  weak  woman's  hands.     Despairing  wrath 

Will  nerve  my  arm.     Like  that  fierce  Amazon, 

Who  wrought  dire  havoc  in  the  Grecian  ranks; 

Or  some  wild  Maenad  by  the  god  o'ercome, 

Who,  thrysus-armed,  doth  roam  the  trackless  glades 

With  frenzied  step,  and,  clean  of  sense  bereft,  675 

Strikes  deadly  blows  but  feels  no  counter-stroke: 

So  will  I  rush  against  ye  in  defense 

Of  Hector's  tomb,  and  perish,  if  I  must, 

An  ally  of  his  shade. 

Ulysses  [to  attendants]:  Do  ye  delay, 

And  do  a  woman's  tears  and  empty  threats 

And  outcry  move  you  ?     Speed  the  task  I  bid.  680 

Andromache  [struggling  with  attendants]:   Destroy  me  first!     Oh,  take 
my  life  instead! 
[The  attendants  roughly  thrust  her  away.] 
Alas,  they  thrust  me  back !     0  Hector,  come, 
■  Break  through  the  bands  of  fate,  upheave  the  earth, 


Troades  361 


That  thou  mayst  stay  Ulysses'  lawless  hand. 
)  Thy  spirit  will  suffice. — Behold  he  comes! 

His  arms  he  brandishes,  and  firebrands  hurls. 

Ye  Greeks,  do  ye  behold  him,  or  do  I, 

(With  solitary  sight,  alone  behold  ?  685 

Ulysses:      This  tomb  and  all  it  holds  will  I  destroy. 
Andromache  [aside,  while  the  attendants  begin  to  demolish  the  tomb]:  Ah 
me,  can  I  permit  the  son  and  sire 

To  be  in  common  ruin  overwhelmed  ? 

Perchance  I  may  prevail  upon  the  Greeks 

By  prayer. — But  even  now  those  massive  stones 

Will  crush  my  hidden  child. — Oh,  let  him  die, 

In  any  other  way,  and  anywhere,  690 

If  only  father  crush  not  son,  and  son 

No  desecration  bring  to  father's  dust. 

[Casts  herself  at  the  feet  of  Ulysses.] 
A  humble  suppliant  at  thy  knees  I  fall, 

Ulysses;  I,  who  never  yet  to  man 

Have  bent  the  knee  in  prayer,  thy  feet  embrace. 

By  all  the  gods,  have  pity  on  my  woes, 

And  with  a  calm  and  patient  heart  receive 

My  pious  prayers.     And  as  the  heavenly  powers  695 

Have  high  exalted  thee  in  pride  and  might, 

The  greater  mercy  show  thy  fallen  foes. 

Whate'er  is  given  to  wretched  suppliant 

Is  loaned  (o  fate.     So  mayst  thou  see  again 

Thy  faithful  wife;  so  may  Laertes  live 

To  greet  thee  yet  again;  so  may  thy  son 

Behold  thy  face,  and,  more  than  that  thou  canst  pray,  700 

Excel  his  father's  valor  and  the  years 

Of  old  Laertes.     Pity  my  distress: 

The  only  comfort  left  me  in  my  woe, 

Is  this  my  son. 
Ulysses:  Produce  the  boy — and  pray. 

Andromache  [goes  to  the  tomb  and  calls  to  Astyanax]:   Come  forth, 

^  my  son,  from  the  place  of  thy  hiding  705 

Where  thy  mother  bestowed  thee  with  weeping  and  fear. 
[Astyanax   appears    from    the    tomb.      Andromache    presents   him   to 

Ulysses.] 


362  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Urn-,  here  is  the  lad,  Ulysses,  behold  him; 
The  fear  of  thy  armies,  the  dread  of  thy  fleet ! 

[To  Astyanax.] 
My  son,  thy  suppliant  hands  upraise, 

And  at  the  feet  of  this  proud  lord, 

Bend  low  in  prayer,  nor  think  it  base  710 

To  suffer  the  lot  which  our  fortune  appoints. 

Put  out  of  mind  thy  regal  birth, 

Thy  aged  grandsire's  glorious  rule 

Of  wide  domain;  and  think  no  more 

Of  Hector,  thy  illustrious  sire. 

Be  captive  alone — bend  the  suppliant  knee;  715 

-And  if  thine  own  fate  move  thee  not, 

Then  weep  by  thy  mother's  wee  inspired. 
[To  Ulysses.] 

That  older  Troy  beheld  the  tears 

Of  its  youthful  king,  and  those  tears  prevailed 

To  stay  the  fierce  threats  of  the  victor's  wrath,  720 

The  mighty  Hercules.     Yea  he, 

To  whose  vast  strength  all  monsters  had  yielded, 

Who  burst  the  stubborn  gates  of  hell, 

And  o'er  that  murky  way  returned, 

Even  he  was  o'ercome  by  the  tears  of  a  boy.  725 

"Take  the  reins  of  the  state,"  to  the  prince  he  said; 
"Reign  thou  on  thy  father's  lofty  throne, 

But  reign  with  the  scepter  of  power — and  truth." 

Thus  did  that  hero  subdue  his  foes. 

And  thus  do  thou  temper  thy  wrath  with  forbearance.     730 

And  let  not  the  power  of  great  Hercules,  only, 

Be  model  to  thee.     Behold  at  thy  feet, 

As  noble  a  prince  as  Priam  of  old 

Pleads  only  for  life !     The  kingdom  of  Troy 

Let  fortune  bestow  where  she  will.  735 

Ulysses  [aside]':  This  woe-struck  mother's  grief  doth  move  me  sore; 
But  still  the  Grecian  dames  must  more  prevail, 
Unto  whose  grief  this  lad  is  growing  up. 
Andromache  [hearing  him]:  What?     These  vast  ruins  of  our  fallen 
town, 
To  very  ashes  brought,  shall  he  uprear  ? 


T  R  O  A  D  E  S  363 


Shall  these  poor  boyish  hands  build  Troy  again  ?  740 

No  hopes  indeed  hath  Troy,  if  such  her  hopes. 

So  low  the  Trojans  lie,  there's  none  so  weak 
\That  he  need  fear  our  power.     Doth  lofty  thought 

Of  mighty  Hector  nerve  his  boyish  heart? 

What  valor  can  a  fallen  Hector  stir  ? 

When  this  our  Troy  was  lost,  his  father's  self 

Would  then  have  bowed  his  lofty  spirit's  pride; 

For  woe  can  bend  and  break  the  proudest  soul.  745 

If  punishment  be  sought,  some  heavier  fate 

Let  him  endure;  upon  his  royal  neck 

Let  him  support  the  yoke  of  servitude. 

Must  princes  sue  in  vain  for  this  poor  boon? 
Ulysses:      Not  I,  but  Calchas  doth  refuse  thy  prayer.   — 
Andromache:  O  man  of  lies,  artificer  of  crime,  750 

By  whom  in  open  fight  no  foe  is  slain, 

But  by  whose  tricks  and  cunning,  evil  mind 

The  very  chiefs  of  Greece  are  overthrown, 

Dost  thou  now  seek  to  hide  thy  dark  intent 

Behind  a  priest  and  guiltless  gods?     Nay,  nay: 

This  deed  within  thy  sinful  heart  was  born. 

Thou  midnight  prowler,  brave  to  work  the  death  755 

Of  this  poor  boy,  dost  dare  at  length  alone 

To  do  a  deed,  and  that  in  open  day  ? 
Ulysses:      Ulysses'  valor  do  the  Grecians  know 

Full  well,  and  all  too  well  the  Phrygians. 

But  we  are  wasting  time  with  empty  words. 

The  impatient  ships  are  tugging  at  their  chains. 
Andromache:  But  grant  a  brief  delay,  while  to  my  son  760 

I  pay  the  rites  of  woe,  and  sate  my  grief 

With  tears  and  last  embrace. 
Ulysses:  I  would  'twere  mine 

To  spare  thy  tears;  but  what  alone  I  may, 

I'll  give  thee  respite  and  a  time  for  grief, 
"j  Then  weep  thy  fill,  for  tears  do  soften  woe.  765 

Andromache  [to  Astyanax]:  O  darling  pledge  of  love,  thou  only  stay 

Of  our  poor  fallen  house,  last  pang  of  Troy; 
i  O  thou  whom  Grecians  fear,  O  mother's  hope, 

Alas  too  vain,  for  whom,  with  folly  blind, 


364  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

I  prayed  the  war  earned  praises  of  his  sire, 

His  royal  grandsire's  prime  of  years  and  strength: 

But  God  hath  Boomed  my  prayers.  770 

Thou  slialt  not  live 

To  wield  the  scepter  in  the  royal  courts 

Of  ancient  Troy,  to  make  thy  people's  laws, 

And  send  beneath  thy  yoke  the  conquered  tribes; 

Thou  shalt  not  fiercely  slay  the  fleeing  Greeks, 

Nor  from  thy  car  in  retribution  drag 

Achilles'  son;  the  dart  from  thy  small  hand  775 

Thou  ne'er  shalt  hurl,  nor  boldly  press  the  chase 

Of  scattered  beasts  throughout  the  forest  glades; 

And  when  the  sacred  lustral  day  is  come, 

Troy's  yearly  ritual  of  festal  games, 

The  charging  squadrons  of  the  noble  youth 

Thou  shalt  not  lead,  thyself  the  noblest  born ; 
.  Nor  yet  among  the  blazing  altar  fires,  780 

With  nimble  feet  the  ancient  sacred  dance 

At  some  barbaric  temple  celebrate, 

While  horns  swell  forth  swift-moving  melodies. 

Oh,  mode  of  death,  far  worse  than  bloody  war! 

More  tearful  sight  than  mighty  Hector's  end 

The  walls  of  Troy  must  see.  785 

Ulysses:  Now  stay  thy  tears, 

J  For  mighty  grief  no  bound  or  respite  finds. 
Andromache:  Small  space  for  tears,  Ulysses,  do  I  ask; 

Some  scanty  moments  yet,  I  pray  thee,  grant, 

That  I  may  close  his  eyes  though  living  still, 

And  do  a  mother's  part. 

[To  Astyanax.] 

Lo,  thou  must  die, 

For,  though  a  child,  thou  art  too  greatly  feared. 

Thy  Troy  awaits  thee:  go,  in  freedom's  pride,  790 

And  see  our  Trojans,  dead  yet  unenslaved. 
Astyanax:  O  mother,  mother,  pity  me  and  save! 
Andromache:  My  son,  why  dost  thou  cling  upon  my  robes, 

And  seek  the  vain  protection  of  my  hand  ? 

As  when  the  hungry  lion's  roar  is  heard, 

The  frightened  calf  for  safety  presses  close  795 


Troades  365 


Its  mother's  side;  but  that  remorseless  beast, 
Thrusting  away  the  mother's  timid  form, 
With  ravenous  jaws  doth  grasp  the  lesser  prey, 
And,  crushing,  drag  it  hence:  so  shalt  thou,  too, 
Be  snatched  away  from  me  by  heartless  foes. 
Then  take  my  tears  and  kisses,  O  my  son, 
Take  these  poor  locks,  and,  full  of  mother  love,  800 

Go  speed  thee  to  thy  sire;  and  in  his  ear 
Speak  these,  thy  grieving  mother's  parting  words: 
"If  still  thy  manes  feel  their  former  cares, 
And  on  the  pyre  thy  love  was  not  consumed, 
Why  dost  thou  suffer  thy  Andromache 
To  serve  a  Grecian  lord,  O  cruel  Hector  ? 
Why  dost  thou  lie  in  careless  indolence  ?  805 

Achilles  has  returned." 

Take  once  again 
These  hairs,  these  flowing  tears,  which  still  remain 
From  Hector's  piteous  death;  this  fond  caress 
And  rain  of  parting  kisses  take  for  him. 
But  leave  this  cloak  to  comfort  my  distress, 
For  it,  within  his  tomb  and  near  his  shade, 
Hath  lain  enwrapping  thee.     If  to  its  folds  810 

One  tiny  mote  of  his  dear  ashes  clings, 
My  eager  lips  shall  seek  it  till  they  find. 
Ulysses:     "(Thy  grief  is  limitless.     Come,  break  away, 
And  end  our  Grecian  fleet's  too  long  delay. 
[He  leads  the  boy  away  with  him.} 


Chorus:       Where  lies  the  home  of  our  captivity  ? 

On  Thessaly's  famed  mountain  heights? 

Where  Tempe's  dusky  shade  invites?  815 

Or  Phthia,  sturdy  warriors'  home, 

Or  where  rough  Trachin's  cattle  roam  ? 

Iolchos,  mistress  of  the  main, 

Or  Crete,  whose  cities  crowd  the  plain  ?  820 

Where  frequent  flow  Mothone's  rills, 

Beneath  the  shade  of  Oete's  hills, 

Whence  came  Alcides'  fatal  bow 

Twice  destined  for  our  overthrow  ?  825 


4 

;m>  Tim      T&AGEDIES     OF     Seneca 

But  whither  shall  our  alien  course  be  sped? 

Perch|nce  to  Pleuron's  gates  we  go, 

Where  Dian's  sell  was  counted  foe; 

Perchance  to  Troezen's  winding  shore, 

The  land  which  mighty  Theseus  bore; 

Or  Pelion,  by  whose  rugged  side 

Their  mad  ascent  the  giants  tried. 

Here,  stretched  within  his  mountain  cave,  830 

Once  Chiron  to  Achilles  gave 

The  lyre,  whose  stirring  strains  attest 

The  warlike  passions  of  his  breast.  835 

What  foreign  shore  our  homeless  band  invites? 

Must  we  our  native  country  deem 

Where  bright  Carystos'  marbles  gleam  ? 

Where  Chalcis  breasts  the  heaving  tide, 

And  swift  Euripus'  waters  glide  ? 

Perchance  unhappy  fortune  calls  840 

To  bleak  Gonoessa's  windswept  walls; 

Perchance  our  wondering  eyes  shall  see 

Elcusin's  awful  mystery;  845 

Or  Elis,  where  great  heroes  strove 

To  win  the  Olympic  crown  of  Jove.  850 

Then  welcome,  stranger  lands  beyond  the  sea! 

Let  breezes  waft  our  wretched  band, 

Where'er  they  list,  to  any  land; 

If  only  Sparta's  cursed  state 

(To  Greeks  and  Trojans  common  fate) 

And  Argos,  never  meet  our  view, 

And  bloody  Pelops'  city  too;  855 

May  we  ne'er  see  Ulysses'  isle, 

Whose  borders  share  their  master's  guile. 
1  But  thee,  O  Hecuba,  what  fate, 

What  land,  what  Grecian  lord  await  ?  860 

ACT  IV 

[Enter  Helen.] 
)  Helen  [aside]:  Whatever  wedlock,  bred  of  evil  fate, 
Is  full  of  joyless  omens,  blood  and  tears, 
Is  worthy  Helen's  baleful  auspices. 


T  RO  AD  E  S  367 


And  now  must  I  still  further  harm  inflict 
Upon  the  prostrate  Trojans:  'tis  my  part 
To  feign  Polyxena,  the  royal  maid, 

Is  bid  to  be  our  Grecian  Pyrrhus'  wife,  865 

And  deck  her  in  the  garb  of  Grecian  brides. 
So  by  my  artful  words  shall  she  be  snared, 
And  by  my  craft  shall  Paris'  sister  fall. 
But  let  her  be  deceived;  'tis  better  so; 
(To  die  without  the  shrinking  fear  of  death 
Is  joy  indeed.     But  why  dost  thou  delay 

Thy  bidden  task  ?     If  aught  of  sin  there  be,  870 

'Tis  his  who  doth  command  thee  to  the  deed. 

[To  Polyxena.] 
O  maiden,  born  of  Priam's  noble  stock, 
The  gods  begin  to  look  upon  thy  house 
In  kinder  mood,  and  even  now  prepare 
To  grant  thee  happy  marriage;  such  a  mate 
As  neither  Troy  herself  in  all  her  power 

Nor  royal  Priam  could  have  found  for  thee.  875 

For  lo,  the  flower  of  the  Pe.lasgian  lords, 
Whose  sway  Thessalia's  far-extending  plains 
Acknowledge,  seeks  thy  hand  in  lawful  wedlock. 
Great  Tethys  waits  to  claim  thee  for  her  own, 
And  Thetis,  whose  majestic  deity 
Doth  rule  the  swelling  sea,  and  all  the  nymphs 
Who  dwell  within  its  depths.     As  Pyrrhus'  bride  880 

Thou  shalt  be  called  the  child  of  Peleus  old, 
And  Nereus  the  divine. 

Then  change  the  garb 
Of  thy  captivity  for  festal  robes, 
And  straight  forget  that  thou  wast  e'er  a  slave. 
Thy  wild,  disheveled  locks  confine;  permit 
—    That  I,  with  skilful  hands,  adorn  thy  head.  885 

This  chance,  mayhap,  shall  place  thee  on  a  throne 
More  lofty  far  than  ever  Priam  saw. 
The  captive's  lot  full  oft  a  blessing  proves. 
Andromache:  This  was  the  one  thing  lacking  to  our  woes — 

That  they  should  bid  us  smile  when  we  would  weep. 
See  there!     Our  city  lies  in  smouldering  heaps; 


368  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

A  fitting  time  to  talk  of  marriar  890 

Hut  wlio  would  dare  refuse?    When  Seles  bids, 

Who  would  not  hasten  to  the  wedding  rites? 
Thou  Common  Curse  of  Greeks  ami  Trojans  too, 
Thou  fatal  scourge,  thou  wasting  pestilence, 
Dost  thou  behold  where  buried  heroes  lie? 
A11J  dost  thou  see  these  poor  unburied  bones 

That  everywhere  lie  whitening  on  the  plain  ? 
This  desolation  hath  thy  marriage  wrought.  895 

For  thee  the  blood  of  Asia  flowed;  for  thee 
Did  Europe's  heroes  bleed,  whilst  thou,  well  pleased, 
Didst  look  abroad  upon  the  warring  kings, 
Who  perished  in  thy  cause,  thou  faithless  jade! 
There!  get  thee  gone!  prepare  thy  marriages! 
What  need  of  torches  for  the  solemn  rites  ? 
What  need  of  fire?     Troy's  self  shall  furnish  forth  900 

The  ruddy  flames  to  light  her  latest  bride. 
Then  come,  my  sisters,  come  and  celebrate 
Lord  Pyrrhus'  nuptial  day  in  fitting  wise: 
With  groans  and  wailing  let  the  scene  resound. 
Helen:      j  Though  mighty  grief  is  ne'er  by  reason  swayed, 
And  oft  the  very  comrades  of  its  woe, 

Unreasoning,  hates;  yet  can  I  bear  to  stand  905 

And  plead  my  cause  before  a  hostile  judge, 
For  I  have  suffered  heavier  ills  than  these. 
Behold,  Andromache  doth  Hector  mourn, 
And  Hecuba  her  Priam;  each  may  claim 
The  public  sympathy;  but  Helena 
Alone  must  weep  for  Paris  secretly. 

Is  slavery's  yoke  so  heavy  and  so  hard  910 

To  bear?     This  grievous  yoke  have  I  endured, 
Ten  years  a  captive.     Doth  your  Ilium  lie 
In  dust,  your  gods  o'erthrown  ?     I  know  'tis  hard 
To  lose  one's  native  land,  but  harder  still 
To  fear  the  land  that  gave  you  birth.     Your  woes 
Are  lightened  by  community  of  grief; 
But  friend  and  foe  are  foes  alike  to  me. 

Long  since,  the  fated  lot  has  hung  in  doubt  915 

That  sorts   you  to  your  lords;  but  I  alone, 


Troades  369 


Without  the  hand  of  fate  am  claimed  at  once. 

Think  you  that  I  have  been  the  cause  of  war, 

And  Troy's  great  overthrow  ?     Believe  it  true 

If  in  a  Spartan  vessel  I  approached 

Your  land;  but  if,  sped  on  by  Phrygian  oars,  920 

I  came  a  helpless  prey;  if  to  the  judge 

Of  beauty's  rival  claims  I  fell  the  prize 

By  conquering  Venus'  gift,  then  pity  me, 

The  plaything  of  the  fates.     An  angry  judge 

Full  soon  my  cause  shall  have — my  Grecian  lord. 

Then  leave  to  him  the  question  of  my  guilt, 

And  judge  me  not. 

But  now  forget  thy  woes 

A  little  space,  Andromache,  and  bid  925 

This  royal  maid — but  as  I  think  on  her 

My  tears  unbidden  flow. 

[She  stops,  overcome  by  emotion.] 
■Andromache  [in  scorn]:  Now  great  indeed 

Must  be  the  evil  when  our  Helen  weeps! 

But  dry  thy  tears,  and  tell  what  Ithacus 

Is  plotting  now,  what  latest  deed  of  shame? 

Must  this  poor  maid  be  hurled  from  Ida's  heights, 

Or  from  the  top  of  Ilium's  citadel  ? 

Must  she  be  flung  into  the  cruel  sea  930 

That  roars  beneath  this  lofty  precipice, 

Which  our  Sigeum's  rugged  crag  uprears  ? 

I  Come,  tell  what  thou  dost  hide  with  mimic  grief. 

In  all  our  ills  there's  none  so  great  as  this, 

That  any  princess  of  our  royal  house 

Should  wed  with  Pyrrhus.     Speak  thy  dark  intent;  935 

What  further  suffering  remains  to  bear? 

To  compensate  our  woes,  this  grace  impart, 

That  we  may  know  the  worst  that  can  befall. 
1  Behold  us  ready  for  the  stroke  of  fate. 
Helen:         Alas!  I  would  'twere  mine  to  break  the  bonds 

Which  bind  me  to  this  life  I  hate;  to  die 

By  Pyrrhus'  cruel  hand  upon  the  tomb  940 

>Of  gre.a  A(  1  lilies,  and  to  share  thy  fate, 

O  poor  Polyxena.     For  even  now, 


i: 


370  T  II  B      T  R.AGBDIES      OF      S  E  N  E  C  A 

The  ghost  doth  bid  that  thou  be  sacrificed, 
And  that  thy  blood  be  spilt  upon  his  tomb; 

That  thus  thy  parting  soul  may  mate  with  his. 
Within  the  borders  of  Elysium. 

Andromache  [observing  the  joy  'villi   which    Polyxena  receives  these 

tidings]:   Behold,  her  soul  leaps  up  with  mighty  joy        945 

At  thought  of  death;  she  seeks  the  festal  robes 

Wherewith  to  deck  her  for  the  bridal  rites, 

And  yields  her  golden  locks  to  Helen's  hands. 

Who  late  accounted  wedlock  worse  than  death, 

Now  hails  her  death  with  more  than  bridal  joy. 
[Observing  Hecuba.] 

But  see,  her  mother  stands  amazed  with  woe, 

Her  spirit  staggers  'neath  the  stroke  of  fate.  950 

[To  Hecuba.] 

Arise,  O  wretched  queen,  stand  firm  in  soul, 

And  gird  thy  fainting  spirit  up. 

[Hecuba  jails  fainting.] 

Behold, 

By  what  a  slender  thread  her  feeble  life 

Is  held  to  earth.     How  slight  the  barrier  now 

That  doth  remove  our  Hecuba  from  joy. 

But  no,  she  breathes,  alas!  she  lives  again, 

For  from  the  wretched,  death  is  first  to  flee. 
Hecuba  [reviving]:  Still  dost  thou  live,  Achilles,  for  our  bane  ?  955 

Dost  still  prolong  the  bitter  strife  ?     O  Paris, 

Thine  arrow  should  have  dealt  a  deadlier  wound. 

For  see,  the  very  ashes  and  the  tomb 

Of  that  insatiate  chieftain  still  do  thirst 

For  Trojan  blood.     But  lately  did  a  throng 

Of  happy  children  press  me  round;  and  I, 

With  fond  endearment  and  the  sweet  caress 

That  mother  love  would  shower  upon  them  all, 

Was  oft  forespent.     But  now  this  child  alone  960 

Is  left,  my  comrade,  comfort  of  my  woes, 

'  For  whom  to  pray,  in  whom  to  rest  my  soul. 

Hers  are  the  only  lips  still  left  to  me 

To  call  me  mother.     Poor,  unhappy  soul, 

Why  dost  thou  cling  so  stubbornly  to  life  ? 


Troades  371 


( )h,  speed  thee  out,  and  grant  mc  death  at  last, 

The  only  boon  I  seek.      Behold,  I  weep; 

And  from  my  cheeks,  o'erwhelmed  with  sympathy,  965 

A  sudden  rain  of  grieving  tears  descends. 
Andromache:  We,  Hecuba,  Oh,  we  should  most  be  mourned, 

Whom  soon  the  fleet  shall  scatter  o'er  the  sea;  970 

While  she  shall  rest  beneath  the  soil  she  loves. 
Helen:         Still  more  wouldst  thou  begrudge  thy  sister's  lot, 

If  thou  didst  know  thine  own. 
Andromache:  Remains  there  still 

Some  punishment  that  I  must  undergo  ? 
Helen:         The  whirling  urn  hath  given  you  each  her  lord. 
Andromache:  To  whom  hath  fate  allotted  me  a  slave?  975 

Proclaim  the  chief  whom  I  must  call  my  lord. 
Helen:         To  Pyrrhus  hast  thou  fallen  by  the  lot. 
Andromache:  O  happy  maid,  Cassandra,  blest  of  heaven, 
^For  by  thy  madness  art  thou  held  exempt 

From  fate  that  makes  us  chattels  to  the  Greeks. 
Helen:         Not  so,  for  even  now  the  Grecian  king 

Doth  hold  her  as  his  prize. 
Hecuba  [to  Polyxena]:  Rejoice,  my  child. 

How  gladly  would  thy  sisters  change  their  lot 

For  thy  death -dooming  marriage. 
[To  Helen.] 

Tell  me  now, 

Does  any  Greek  lay  claim  to  Hecuba  ? 
Helen:         The  Ithacan,  though  much  against  his  will,  980 

Hath  gained  by  lot  a  shortdived  prize  in  thee. 
Hecuba:      What  cruel,  ruthless  providence  hath  given 

A  royal  slave  to  serve  unkingly1  men  ? 

What  hostile  god  divides  our  captive  band  ? 

What  heartless  arbiter  of  destiny 

So  carelessly  allots  our  future  lords, 

That  Hector's  mother  is  assigned  to  him  985 

Who  hath  by  favor  gained  th'  accursed  arms 

Which  laid  my  Elector  low?     And  must  I  then 

Obey  the  Ithacan  ?     Now  conquered  quite, 

Alas,  and  doubly  captive  do  I  seem, 

1  Reading,  haud  regibus. 


37a  The     Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Ami  sore  beset  by  all  my  woes  at  once. 

Now  must  I  blush,  not  for  my  slavery,  990 

But  for  my  master's  sake.     Yet  Ithaca, 

That  barren  land  by  savage  seas  beset, 

Shall  Dot  receive  my  bones. 

Then  up,  Ulysses, 
And  lead  thy  captive  home.     I'll  not  refuse 
To  follow  thee  as  lord;  for  well  I  know 
That  my  untoward  fates  shall  follow  me. 

No  gentle  winds  shall  fill  thy  homeward  sails,  995 

But  stormy  blasts  shall  rage;  destructive  wars, 
And  fires,  and  Priam's  evil  fates  and  mine, 
Shall  haunt  thee  everywhere.     But  even  now, 
While  yet  those  ills  delay,  hast  thou  received 
Some  punishment.     For  I  usurped  thy  lot, 
And  stole  thy  chance  to  win  a  fairer  prize. 

[Enter  Pyrrhus.] 
But  see,  with  hurried  step  and  lowering  brow, 
Stern  Pyrrhus  comes.  1000 

[To  Pyrrhus.] 

Why  dost  thou  hesitate  ? 
Come  pierce  my  vitals  with  thy  impious  sword, 
And  join  the  parents  of  Achilles'  bride. 
Make  haste,  thou  murderer  of  aged  men, 
My  blood  befits  thee  too. 

[Pointing  to  Polyxena.] 

Away  with  her; 
^Defile  the  face  of  heaven  with  murder's  stain, 
Defile  the  shades. — But  why  make  prayer  to  you  ?  1005 

T'll  rather  pray  the  sea  whose  savage  rage 
Befits  these  bloody  rites;  the  selfsame  doom, 
Which  for  my  ship  I  pray  and  prophesy, 
May  that  befall  the  thousand  ships  of  Greece, 
And  so  may  evil  fate  engulf  them  all. 


Chorus:  'Tis  sweet  for  one  in  grief  to  know 

That  he  but  feels  a  common  woe;  1010 

And  lighter  falls  the  stroke  of  care 
Which  all  with  equal  sorrow  bear; 


Troades  373 


'For  selfish  and  malign  is  human  grief  1015 

Which  in  the  tears  of  others  finds  relief. 

Remove  all  men  to  fortune  born, 
And  none  will  think  himself  forlorn; 

Remove  rich  acres  spreading  wide,  1020 

With  grazing  herds  on  every  side: 
I  Straight  will  the  poor  man's  drooping  soul  revive, 
For  none  are  poor  if  all  in  common  thrive.  1025 

J  The  mariner  his  fate  bewails, 

\\*ho  in  a  lonely  vessel  sails, 

And,  losing  all  his  scanty  store, 

With  life  alone  attains  the  shore; 
But  with  a  stouter  heart  the  gale  he  braves, 
That  sinks  a  thousand  ships  beneath  the  waves.  1030 

WTien  Phrixus  fled  in  days  of  old 

Upon  the  ram  with  fleece  of  gold, 

His  sister  Helle  with  him  fared 

And  all  his  exiled  wanderings  shared; 
But  when  she  fell  and  left  him  quite  alone, 
Then  nothing  could  for  Helle's  loss  atone.  1035 

Not  so  they  wept,  that  fabled  pair, 

Deucalion  and  Pyrrha  fair, 

When  'midst  the  boundless  sea  they  stood 

The  sole  survivors  of  the  flood; 
For  though  their  lot  was  hard  and  desolate, 
They  shared  their  sorrow — 'twas  a  common  fate.  1040 

Too  soon  our  grieving  company 

Shall  scatter  on  the  rolling  sea, 

Where  swelling  sails  and  bending  oars  1045 

Shall  speed  us  on  to  distant  shores. 
Oh,  then  how  hard  shall  be  our  wretched  plight, 

When  far  away  our  country  li< 

And  round  us  heaving  billows  rise, 
And  lofty  Ida's  summit  sinks  from  sight. 

Then  mother  shall  her  child  embrace,  1050 

And  point  with  straining  eyes  the  place 


374       The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

Where  Ilium's  smouldering  ruins  lie, 
Far  off  beneath  the  eastern  sky: 
"See  there,  my  child,  our  Trojan  ashes  glow, 
Where  wreathing  smoke  in  murky  clouds 
The  distant,  dim  horizon  shrouds; 
And  by  that  sign  alone  our  land  we  know."  1055 

ACT  V 

Messenger  [entering]:  Oh,  cruel  fate,  Oh,  piteous,  horrible! 

What  sight  so  fell  and  bloody  have  we  seen 

In  ten  long  years  of  war  ?     Between  thy  woes, 

Andromache,  and  thine,  O  Hecuba, 

I  halt,  and  know  not  which  to  weep  the  more. 
Hecuba:      Weep  whosesoe'er  thou  wilt — thou  weepest  mine.  1060 

While  others  bow  beneath  their  single  cares, 

I  feel  the  weight  of  all.     All  die  to  me; 

Whatever  grief  there  is,  is  Hecuba's. 
Messenger:  The  maid  is  slain,  the  boy  dashed  from  the  walls. 

But  each  has  met  his  death  with  royal  soul. 
Andromache:  Expound  the  deed  in  order,  and  display  1065 

I'he  twofold  crime.     My  mighty  grief  is  fain 

To  hear  the  gruesome  narrative  entire. 

Begin  thy  tale,  and  tell  it  as  it  was. 
Messenger:  One  lofty  tower  of  fallen  Troy  is  left, 

Well  known  to  Priam,  on  whose  battlements 

He  used  to  sit  and  view  his  warring  hosts.  1070 

Here  in  his  arms  his  grandson  he  would  hold 

With  kind  embrace,  and  bid  the  lad  admire 

His  father's  warlike  deeds  upon  the  field, 

Where  Hector,  armed  with  fire  and  sword,  pursued 

The  frightened  Greeks.     Around  this  lofty  tower  1075 

Which  lately  stood,  the  glory  of  the  walls, 

But  now  a  lonely  crag,  the  people  pour, 

A  motley,  curious  throng  of  high  and  low. 

For  some,  a  distant  hill  gives  open  view; 

While  others  seek  a  cliff,  upon  whose  edge  1080 

The  crowd  in  tiptoed  expectation  stand. 

The  beech  tree,  laurel,  pine,  each  has  its  load; 

The  whole  wood  bends  beneath  its  human  fruit. 


Troades  375 


One  climbs  a  smouldering  roof;  unto  another 

A  crumbling  wall  precarious  footing  gives;  1085 

While  others  (shameless!)  stand  on  Hector's  tomb. 

Now  through  the  thronging  crowd  with  stately  tread 

Ulysses  makes  his  way,  and  by  the  hand 

He  leads  the  little  prince  of  Ilium. 

With  equal  pace  the  lad  approached  the  wall;  1090 

But  when  he  reached  the  lofty  battlement, 

I  Ie  stood  and  gazed  around  with  dauntless  soul. 

Ami  as  the  savage  lion's  tender  young, 

Its  fangless  jaws,  all  powerless  to  harm, 

Still  snaps  with  helpless  wrath  and  swelling  heart;  1095 

So  he,  though  held  in  that  strong  foeman's  grasp, 

Stood  firm,  defiant.     Then  the  crowd  of  men, 

And  leaders,  and  Ulysses'  self,  were  moved. 

But  he  alone  wept  not  of  all  the  throng 

Who  wept  for  him.     And  now  Ulysses  spake 

)ln  priestly  wise  the  words  of  fate,  and  prayed,  1100 

And  summoned  to  the  rite  the  savage  gods; 

When  suddenly,  on  self-destruction  bent, 

The  lad  sprang  o'er  the  turret's  edge,  and  plunged 

Into  the  depths  below. — 
-Andromache:  What  Colchian,  what  wandering  Scythian, 

What  lawless  race  that  dwells  by  Caspia's  sea  1105 

Could  do  or  dare  a  crime  so  hideous? 

No  blood  of  helpless  children  ever  stained 

Busiris'  altars,  monster  though  he  was; 

Nor  did  the  horses  of  the  Thracian  king 

E'er  feed  on  tender  limbs.     Where  is  my  boy? 

Who  now  will  take  and  lay  him  in  the  tomb?  1 1 10 

M-sscngcr:  Alas,  my  lady,  how  can  aught  remain 

From  such  a  fall,  but  broken,  scattered  bones, 

Dismembered  limbs,  and  all  those  noble  signs 

In  face  and  feature  of  his  royal  birth, 

Confused  and  crushed  ii]>on  the  ragged  ground  ? 

Who  was  thy  son  lies  now  a  shapeless  corse.  1  1  15 

Andromache:  Thus  also  is  he  like  his  noble  sire. 
Messenger:  When  headlong  from  the  tower  the  lad  had  sprung, 

And  all  the  Grecian  throng  bewailed  the  crime 


376  T  ii  i     Tragedies    oi     Seneca 

Which  it  had  seen  and  done;  that  selfsame  throng 

Returned  to  witness  yel  another  crime  1120 

CJpoD  Achilles'  tomb.    The  seaward  side 

Is  beaten  by  Rhoeteum's  lapping  waxes; 

While  on  the  other  sides  a  level  space, 

Ami  rounded,  gently  sloping  hills  beyond, 

Encompass  it,  and  make  a  theater. 

Here  rush  the  multitude  and  fill  the  place  1125 

With  eager  throngs.     A  few  rejoice  that  now 

Their  homeward  journey's  long  delay  will  end, 

And  that  another  prop  of  fallen  Troy 

Is  stricken  down.     But  all  the  common  herd 

Look  on  in  silence  at  the  crime  they  hate. 

The  Trojans,  too,  attend  the  sacrifice,  11 30 

And  wait  with  quaking  hearts  the  final  scene 

Of  Ilium's  fall.     When  suddenly  there  shone 

The  gleaming  torches  of  the  wedding  march; 

And,  as  the  bride's  attendant,  Helen  came 

With  drooping  head.     Whereat  the  Trojans  prayed: 

"Oh,  may  Hermione  be  wed  like  this,  1135 

With  bloody  rites;  like  this  may  Helena 
Return  unto  her  lord."     Then  numbing  dread 
Seized  Greeks  and  Trojans  all,  as  they  beheld 
The  maid.     She  walked  with  downcast,  modest  eyes, 
But  on  her  face  a  wondrous  beauty  glowed 
In  flaming  splendor,  as  the  setting  sun 

Lights  up  the  sky  with  beams  more  beautiful,  1140 

When  day  hangs  doubtful  on  the  edge  of  night. 
All  ^azed  in  wonder.     Some  her  beauty  moved, 
And  some  her  tender  age  and  hapless  fate; 
But  all,  her  dauntless  courage  in  the  face  1145 

/Of  death.     Behind  the  maid  grim  Pyrrhus  came; 
And  as  they  looked,  the  souls  of  all  were  filled 
With  quaking  terror,  pity,  and  amaze. 
But  when  she  reached  the  summit  of  the  mound 
And  stood  upon  the  lofty  sepulcher,  1150 

Still  with  unfaltering  step  the  maid  advanced. 

]And  now  she  turned  her  to  the  stroke  of  death 
With  eyes  so  fierce  and  fearless  that  she  smote 


Troades  377 


The  hearts  of  all,  and,  wondrous  prodigy, 

E'en  Pyrrhus'  bloody  hand  was  slow  to  strike. 

But  soon,  his  right  hand  lifted  to  the  stroke,  1155 

1  [e  drove  the  weapon  deep  within  her  breast; 

And  straight  from  that  deep  wound  the  blood  burst  forth 

In  sudden  streams.     But  still  the  noble  maid 

)Did  not  give  o'er  her  bold  and  haughty  mien, 

'Though  in  the  act  of  death.     For  in  her  fall 

e  smote  the  earth  with  angry  violence, 
As  if  to  make  it  heavy  for  the  dead. 

Then  flowed  the  tears  of  all.     The  Trojans  groaned  1160 

With  secret  woe,  since  fear  restrained  their  tongues; 
But  openly  the  victors  voiced  their  grief. 
And  now  the  savage  rite  was  done.     The  blood 
Stood  not  upon  the  ground,  nor  flowed  away; 
But  downward  all  its  ruddy  stream  was  sucked, 
As  if  the  tomb  were  thirsty  for  the  draught. 
//■   uba:      Now  go,  ye  Greeks,  and  seek  your  homes  in  peace.  1165 

With  spreading  sails  your  fleet  in  safety  now 
May  cleave  the  welcome  sea;  the  maid  and  boy 
Are  slain,  the  war  is  done.     Oh,  whither  now 
Shall  I  betake  me  in  my  wretchedness? 
Where  spend  this  hateful  remnant  of  my  life  ? 
Mv  daughter  or  my  grandson  shall  I  mourn,  n  70 

.  My  husband,  country — or  myself  alone  ? 

\  O  death,  my  sole  desire,  for  boys  and  maids 
Thou  com'st  with  hurried  step  and  savage  mien; 
But  me  alone  of  mortals  dost  thou  fear 
And  shun;  through  all  that  dreadful  night  of  Troy, 
I  sought  thee  'midst  the  swords  and  blazing  brands,  n  75 

But  all  in  vain  my  search.     No  cruel  foe, 
Nor  crumbling  wall,  nor  blazing  fire,  could  give 
The  death  I  sought.     And  yet  how  near  I  stood 
To  ag&3  Priam's  side  when  he  was  slain ! 
\fess(  n  \er.  Ye  captives,  haste  you  to  the  winding  shore; 
The  sails  are  spread,  our  long  delay  is  o'er. 


AGAMKMNON 


AGAMEMNON 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

AGAMEMNON  King  of  Argos,  and  leader  of  all  the  Greeks  in  their  war 

against  Troy. 
Ghost  oj  Thyestcs  Returned  to  earth  to  urge  on  his  son  to  the  vengeance 

which  he  was  born  to  accomplish. 

Aegisthus  .     Son  of  Thyestes  by  an  incestuous  union  with  his  daughter; 
paramour  of  Clytemnestra. 

Clytemnestra  Wife  of  Agamemnon,  who  has  been  plotting  with  Aegisthus 

against  her  husband,  in  his  absence  at  Troy. 
Chorus     .    .   Of  Argive  women. 
Eurybates  .     Messenger  of  Agamemnon. 
Cassandra  .   Daughter  of  Priam,  captive  of  Agamemnon. 
Electra.    .    .  Daughter  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra. 
Strophius  .      King  of  Phocis. 
Orestes.    .    .   Son  of  Agamemnon  (persona  m uta). 
Pylades    .    .   Son  of  Strophius  (persona  inula). 
Band  .      .    .   Of  captive  Trojan  women. 

The  scene  is  laid  partly  within  and  partly  without  the  palace  of  Aga- 
memnon at  Argos  or  Mycenae,  on  the  day  of  the  return  of  the  king  from 
his  long  absence  at  Troy,  beginning  in  the  period  of  darkness  just  preced- 
ing the  dawn. 


The  blood -jend  between  Atreus  and  Thyestes  was  not  ended  with  the 
terrible  vengeance  which  Atreus  wreaked  upon  his  brother.  It  was  yet  in 
fate  that  Thyestes  should  live  to  beget  upon  his  own  daughter  a  son, 
Aegisthus,  who  should  slay  Atreus  and  bring  ruin  and  death  upon  the  great 
Atridcs,  Agamemnon. 

The  Trojan  war  is  done.  And  now  the  near  approach  of  the  victorious 
king,  bringing  his  captives  and  treasure  home  to  Argos,  has  been  announced. 
But  little  does  he  dream  to  what  a  home  he  is  returning.  For  Clytemnestra, 
enraged  at  Agamemnon  because  he  had  sacrificed  her  daughter  Iphigenia  at 
Aulis  to  appease  the  winds,  and  full  of  jealousy  because  he  brings  Cassandra 
as  her  rival  home,  estranged  also  by  the  long-continued  absence  of  her  lord, 
but  most  estranged  by  her  own  guilty  union  with  Aegisthus,  is  now  plotting 
to  slay  Agamemnon  on  his  return,  gaining  thus  at  once  revenge  and  safety  from 
his  wrath. 


ACT  I 

Ghost  of  Thycsks:  Escaped  from  gloomy  Pluto's  murky  realm 

And  leaving  Tartara's  deep  pit  I  come, 

All  doubting  which  abode  I  hate  the  more; 

That  world  I  flee,  but  this  I  put  to  flight. 

My  soul  shrinks  back,  my  limbs  do  quake  with  fear.  5 

I  see  my  father's  house — my  brother's  too! 

Here  is  the  ancient  seat  of  Pelop's  race; 

In  this  proud  hall  it  is  Pelasgians'  wont 

To  crown  their  kings;  here  sit  those  overlords 

Whose  hands  the  kingdom's  haughty  scepter  wield;  10 

Here  is  their  council  chamber — here  they  feast! 

Let  me  go  hence.     Were  it  not  better  far 

To  sit  beside  the  dark,  sad  pools  of  Styx, 

And  see  the  hell-hound's  black  and  tossing  mane? 

Where  one,  bound  fast  upon  a  whirling  wheel,  15 

Back  to  himself  is  borne;  where  fruitless  toil 

Is  mocked  forever  by  the  rolling  stone; 

Where  living  vitals  glut  the  vulture's  greed, 

Consumed  but  e'er  renewed;  and  one  old  man, 

By  mocking  waves  surrounded,  seeks  in  vain  20 

To  sate  his  burning  thirst,  dire  punishment 

For  that  he  strove  to  trick  th'  immortal  gods. 

But,  ranked  with  mine,  how  slight  that  old  man's  sin ! 

Take  count  of  all  whose  impious  deeds  on  earth 

Make  them  to  tremble  at  the  bar  of  hell: 
} By  my  dread  crimes  will  I  outdo  them  all; —  25 

But  not  my  brother's  crimes.     Three  sons  of  mine 

Lie  buried  in  me,  yea,  mine  own  dear  flesh 

Have  I  consumed.     Nor  this  the  only  blot 
^With  which  dire  fortune's  hand  hath  stained  my  soul; 

But,  daring  greater  sin,  she  bade  me  seek 

(Oh,  foul  impiety!)  my  daughter's  arms.  30 

Bold  for  revenge,  I  dared  and  did  the  deed, 

And  so  the  fearful  cycle  was  complete: 

As  sons  the  sire,  so  sire  the  daughter  filled. 

383 


T  II  I       T  B  A  G  EDIES     OF      S  E  N  EC  A 

1  luii  were  the  laws  oi  nature  backward  turned: 
I  mingled  sire  with  grandsire,  sens  with  grandsons; 

Yea,  monstrous!  husband  and  father  did  I  join,  35 

(And  drove  the  day  hark  to  the  shades  of  night. 
Hut  fate  at  last,  though  doubtful,  long  deferred, 

Hath  had  regard  unto  my  evil  plight, 
/      Ami  brought  the  day  of  vengeance  near;  for  lo, 
This  king  of  kings,  this  leader  of  the  Greeks, 
This  Agamemnon  comes,  whose  royal  flag  40 

A  thousand  Grecian  vessels  following 
Once  filled  the  Trojan  waters  with  their  sails. 
Now  ten  bright  suns  have  run  their  course,  and  Troy 
Has  been  o'erthrown,  and  he  is  close  at  hand — 
To  place  his  neck  in  Clytemnestra's  power. 
Now,  now,  this  house  shall  flow  again  with  blood, 
But  this  of  Atreus'  stock !     Swords,  axes^jiarts,  45 

I  see,  and  that  proud  head  with  murderous  stroke 
Asunder  cleft;  now  impious  (rimes  are  near, 
Now  treachery,  slaughter,  blood;  the  feast  is  spread. 
The  cause,  Aegisthus,  of  thy  shameful  birth, 
Is  come  at  last.     But  why  hangs  down  thy  head 
In  shame  ?     Why  hesitates  thy  faltering  hand  50 

And  sinks  inactive  ?     Why  dost  counsel  take 
Within  thy  heart,  and  turn  away,  and  ask 
Whether  this  deed  become  thee  ?     Do  but  think 
Upon  thy  mother;  then  wilt  thou  confess 
It  doth  become  thee  well.     But  what  drags  out 
In  long  delay  this  summer  night's  brief  span 
To  winter's  hours  of  darkness  ?    And  what  cause 
Prevents  the  stars  from  sinking  in  the  sky  ?  55 

S  The  sun  shrinks  from  my  face.     I  must  away, 
That  so  he  may  bring  back  the  light  of  day. 

[Exit.] 


s 


Chorus  of  A,rgive  women:    On  fortune's  headlong  brink  they  stand 
\j  ~  \     Who  hold  the  scepter  in  their  hand; 

No  safe  assurance  can  they  know  60 

Who  on  too  lofty  pathways  go: 


A  G  A  M  E  M  N  O  N  385 


But  care  on  care  pursues  them  to  the  last, 
Their  souls  assailed  and  vexed  by  every  blast. 

As  seas  on  Libya's  sandy  shore 

Their  waves  in  ceaseless  billows  pour;  65 

As  Euxine's  swelling  waters  rise 
Beneath  the  lowering  northern  skies, 
Where  bright  Bootes  wheels  his  team 

1  Iigh  o'er  the  ocean's  darksome  stream:  70 

With  such  assaults,  by  such  wild  tempests  blown, 


Does  fortune  batter  at  a  kingly  throne! 


Who  would  be  feared,  in  fear  must  live. 

No  kindly  night  can  refuge  give; 

Nor  sleep,  that  comforts  all  the  rest,  75 

LCan  bring  care-freedom  to  his  breast. 
at  throne  so  safe,  on  such  foundation  stands, 
That  may  not  be  destroyed  by  impious  hands? 

For  justice,  shame,  the  virtues  all, 

E'en  wifely  faith,  soon  flee  the  hall  80 

Where  courtiers  dwell.     Within,  there  stands 

Bellona  dire  with  bloody  hands; 

Erinys  too,  the  dogging  fate, 

Of  them  who  hold  too  high  estate, 
Which  any  hour  from  high  to  low  may  bring.  85 

TjTOjjgh_axms  be  lacking,  wiles  be  none, 

Still  is  the  will  of  fortune  done: 
By  T  his  own  greatness  falls  the  king. 

'Tis  ever  thus:  the  bellying  sail  90 

rs  the  o'erstrong  though  favoring  gale; 
The  tower  feels  rainy  Auster's  dread 
If  to  the  clouds  it  rear  its  head; 

Huge  oaks  most  feel  the  whirlwind's  lash;  95 

High  mountains  most  with  thunder  crash; 
And  while  the  common  herd  in  safety  feeds, 
Their  mighty  leader,  marked  for  slaughter,  bio  100 

- 
I  Fate  places  us  on  high,  that  so 

To  surer  ruin  we  may  go. 


386  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


The  meanest  things  in  longest  fortune  live. 

Then  happy  he  whose  modest  soul 

In  safety  seeks  a  nearer  goal;  105 

Fearing  to  leave  the  friendly  shore, 

He  rows  with  unambitious  oar, 
Content  in  low  security  to  thrive. 

ACT  II 

Clylcmnestra:) Why,  sluggish  soul,  dost  thou  safe  counsel  seek? 

Why  hesitate  ?     Closed  is  the  better  way. 

Once  thou  couldst  chastely  guard  thy  widowed  couch,  no 

And  keep  thy  husband's  realm  with  wifely  faith; 

But  now,  long  since  has  faith  thy  palace  fled, 

The  homely  virtues,  honor,  piety, 

And  chastity,  which  goes,  but  ne'er  returns. 

Loose  be  thy  reins,  swift  speed  thy  wanton  course; 

The  safest  way  through  crime  is  by  the  path  115 

Of  greater  crime.     Consider  in  thy  heart 

All  woman's  wiles,  what  faithless  wives  have  done, 
^Bereft  of  reason,  blind  and  passion-driven; 

What  bloody  deeds  stepmother's  hands  have  dared; 

Or  what  she  dared,  ablaze  with  impious  love, 

Who  left  her  father's  realm  for  Thessaly:  120 

Dare  sword,  dare  poison;  else  in  stealthy  flight 

Must  thou  go  hence  with  him  who  shares  thy  guilt. 

But  who  would  talk  of  stealth,  of  exile,  flight  ? 

Such  were  thy  sister's  deeds:  some  greater  crime, 

Some  mightier  deed  of  evil  suits  thy  hand. 
Nurse:        O  Grecian  queen,  illustrious  Leda's  child,  125 

What  say'st  thou  there  in  whispered  mutterings  ? 

Or  what  unbridled  deeds  within  thy  breast, 

By  reckless  passion  tossed,  dost  meditate  ? 

Though  thou  be  silent,  yet  thy  face  declares 

Thy  hidden  pain  in  speech  more  eloquent. 
^  Whate'er  thy  grief,  take  time  and  room  for  thought. 
^Time  often  cures  what  reason  cannot  heal.  130 

Clytemnestra:  Too  dire  my  grief  to  wait  time's  healing  hand. 

My  very  soul  is  scorched  with  flaming  pains: 

I  feel  the  goads  of  fear  and  jealous  rage, 


A  G  AMEMNO  N  387 


The  throbbing  pulse  of  hate,  the  pan^s  of  love, 

Base  love  that  presses  hard  his  heavy  yoke  135 

Upon  my  heart,  and  holds  me  vanquished  quite. 

And  always,  'mid  those  flames  that  vex  my  soul, 

Though  faint  indeed,  and  downcast,  all  undone, 

Shame  struggles  on.     By  shifting  seas  I'm  tossed: 

As  when  here  wind,  there  tide  impels  the  deep, 

The  waves  stand  halting  'twixt  the  warring  powers.  140 

And  so  I'll  strive  no  more  to  guide  my  bark. 

Where  wrath,  where  grief,  where  hope  shall  bear  me  on, 

There  will  I  speed  my  course;  my  helmless  ship 

I've  giv'n  to  be  the  sport  of  winds  and  floods. 

Where  reason  fails  'tis  best  to  follow  chance. 

Xitrse:        Oh,  rash  and  blind,  who  follows  doubtful  chance.  145 

Clytemnestra:  Who  fears  a  doubtful  chance,  if  'tis  his  last? 

Xurse:        Thy  fault  may  find  safe  hiding  if  thou  wilt. 

( 'lytemnestra:  Nay,  faults  of  royal  homes  proclaim  themselves. 

Xurse:        Dost  thou  repent  the  old,  yet  plan  the  new  ? 

Clytemnestra:  To  stop  midway  in  sin  is  foolishness.  150 

Xurse:         1 1 i ^  iVars  increase,  who  covers  crime  with  crime. 

Clytemnestra:  But  iron  and  fire  oft  aid  the  healer's  art. 

Xurse:        Yet  desperate  measures  no  one  first  attempts. 

Clytemnestra:  The  path  of  sin  is  headlong  from  the  first. 

Xurse:        Still  let  thy  wifely  fluty  hold  thee  back.  155 

Clytemnestra:  What  long-deserted  wife  regards  her  lord? 

Xur  Your  o .rnmon  children — hast  no  thought  of  them  ? 

Clytemnestra:  I  do  think  on  my  daughter's  wedding  rites. 
High-born  Achilles,  and  my  husband's  lies. 

Xurse:        She  freed  our  Grecian  fleet  from  long  delay,  160 

And  waked  from  their  dull  calm  the  sluggish  seas. 

Clytemnestra:  I  I  meful  th  that  \,  the  heaven diorn  child 

Of  Tyndarus,  should  give  my  daughter  up 
To  save  the  Grecian  fleet!     I  see  once  more 
In  memory  my  daughter's  wedding  clay, 

Which  he  made  worthy  of  base  Pelops'  house,  165 

When,  with  his  pious  face,  this  father  stood 
Before  the  altar  fires — Oh,  monstrous  rites! 
E'en  Calchas  shuddered  at  his  own  dread  words 
And  backward-shrinking  fires.     0  bloody  house, 


;SS  The    Tragedies    or    Seneca 

That  ever  wades  through  crime  to  other  i  rimel 

With  blood  we  soothe  the  winds,  with  blood  we  war.  170 

Nurse:       Yet  by  that  blood  a  thousand  vessels  sailed. 
Clytcmnestra:  But  not  with  favoring  omens  did  they  sail; 

The  port  of  Aulis  fairly  drave  them  forth. 

So  launched  in  war,  he  still  no  better  fared. 
JSmit  with  a  captive's  love,  unmoved  by  prayer,  175 

'  He  held  as  spoil  the  child  of  Phoebus'  priest, 

E'en  then,  as  now,  a  sacred  maiden's  thrall. 

Nor  could  the  stern  Achilles  bend  his  will, 
-  Nor  he  whose  eye  alone  can  read  the  fates 

(A  faithful  seer  to  us,  to  captives  mild),  180 

Nor  his  pest-smitten  camp  and  gleaming  pyres. 

When  baffled  Greece  stood  tottering  to  her  fall, 

This  man  with  passion  pined,  had  time  for  love, 

Thought  ever  on  amours;  and,  lest  his  couch 

Should  be  of  any  Phrygian  maid  bereft,  185 

He  lusted  for  Achilles'  beauteous  bride, 

Nor  blushed  to  tear  her  from  her  lover's  arms. 

Fit  foe  for  Paris!     Now  new  wounds  he  feels, 

And  burns,  inflamed  by  mad  Cassandra's  love. 

And,  now  that  Troy  is  conquered,  home  he  comes,  190 

A  captive's  husband,  Priam's  son-in-law! 
\  Arise,  my  soul;  no  easy  task  essay; 

Be  swift  to  act.     What  dost  thou,  sluggish,  wait 

Till  Phrygian  rivals  wrest  thy  power  away  ? 

Or  do  thy  virgin  daughters  stay  thy  hand,  195 

Or  yet  Orestes,  image  of  his  sire  ? 

Nay,  'tis  for  these  thy  children  thou  must  act, 

Lest  greater  ills  befall  them;  for,  behold, 

A  mad  stepmother  soon  shall  call  them  hers. 

Through  thine  own  heart,  if  so  thou  must,  prepare 

To  drive  the  sword,  and  so  slay  two  in  one.  200 

Let  thy  blood  flow  with  his;  in  slaying,  die. 
-For  death  is  sweet  if  with  a  foeman  shared. 
Nurse:      j  My  queen,  restrain  thyself,  check  thy  wild  wrath, 

And  think  how  great  thy  task.     Atrides  comes 

Wild  Asia's  conqueror  and  Europe's  lord;  205 

He  leads  Troy  captive,  Phrygia  subdued. 


A  G   VMEMNON  389 


« .  linst  him  wouldst  thou  with  sly  assault  prevail, 

Whom  great  Achilles  slew  not  with  his  sword, 

I    ougb  he  with  angry  hand  the  weapon  drew; 

Nor  Telamonian  Ajax,  crazed  with  rage;  210 

\   r  I  let  tor,  Troy's  sole  prop  and  war's  delay; 

Nor  Paris'  deadly  darts;  nor  Mernnon  black; 

Nor  Xanthus,  choked  with  corpses  and  with  arms; 

Nor  Simois'  waves,  empurpled  with  the  slain; 

Nor  Cycnus,  snowy  offspring  of  the  sea;  215 

Nor  warlike  Rhesus  with  his  Thracian  hand; 
^Nor  that  fierce  maid  who  led  the  Amazons, 

Armed  with  the  deadly  battle-axe  and  shield  ? 

This  hero,  home  returned,  dost  thou  prepare 

To  slay,  and  stain  thy  hearth  with  impious  blood  ? 

Would  Greece,  all  hot  from  conquest,  suffer  this?  220 

Bethink  thee  of  the  countless  steeds  and  arms, 

The  sea  a-bristle  with  a  thousand  ships, 

The  plains  of  Ilium  soaked  with  streams  of  bl< 

Troy  taken  and  in  utter  ruin  laid: 

Remember  this,  I  say,  and  check  thy  wrath, 

And  bid  thy  thoughts  in  safer  channels  run.  225 

[Exit.] 
[Enter  Aegisthus.] 
I     isthus:  The  fatal  day  which  I  was  born  to  see, 

Toward  which  I've  ever  looked  with  dread,  is  here. 

Why  dost  thou  fear,  my  soul,  to  face  thy  fa1 

And  turn  away  from  action  scarce  begun  ? 

Be  sure  that  not  thy  hand  is  ordering 

These  'lire  events,  but  the  relentless  gods...  230 

)  Then  put  thy  shame-bought  life  in  pawn  to  fate 

And  let  thy  heart  drain  suffering  i>  the  dr< 

To  one  of  shameful  birth  death  is  a  boon. 
[F.r.ler  Clyteinnestra.] 

Thou  comrade  of  my  perils,  Leda's  child, 

Be  with  me  still  in  this;  and  thy  false  lord,  235 

This  valiant  sire,  shall  pay  thee  blood  for  blood. 

But  why  does  pallor  blanch  thy  trembling  1 

What  bodes  this  softened  face,  this  list!  se  ? 

Clytemmstra:  My  husband's  love  has  met  and  conquered  me. 


39° 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Let  us  retrace  our  steps,  while  still  there's  room, 
To  that  estate  whence  we  should  ne'er  have  come; 


o* 


';f/ 


Let  even  now  fair  fame  be  sought  again; 

For  never  is  it  over  late  to  mend. 

Who  grieves  for  .sin  is  counted  innocent. 
Acgi sthus: What  madness  this?     Dost  thou  believe  or  hope 

That  Agamemnon  will  be  true  to  thee  ? 

Though  no  grave  fears,  of  conscious  guilt  begot, 

Annoyed  thy  soul  with  thoughts  of  punishment; 
\  Still  would  his  swelling,  o'er-inflated  pride, 

Create  in  him  a  dour  and  headstrong  mood. 

Harsh  was  he  to  his  friends  while  Troy  still  stood; 

How,  think'st  thou,  has  the  fall  of  Troy  pricked  on 

His  soul,  by  nature  harsh,  to  greater  harshness? 

Mycenae's  king  he  went;  he  will  return 
<iHer  tyrant.     So  doth  fortune  foster  pride. 

With  how  great  pomp  this  throng  of  rivals  comes! 

But  one  of  these,  surpassing  all  the  rest, 

Apollo's  priestess,  holds  the  king  in  thrall. 

And  wilt  thou  meekly  share  thy  lord  with  her  ? 

But  she  will  not.     A  wife's  last  infamy — 

To  see  her  rival  ruling  in  her  stead. 

No  throne  nor  bed  can  brook  a  rival  mate. 
Clytemnestra:  Aegisthus,  why  dost  drive  me  headlong  on, 

And  fan  to  flames  again  my  dying  wrath  ? 

For  if  the  victor  has  his  right  employed, 

To  work  his  will  upon  a  captive  maid, 

His  wife  should  not  complain  or  reck  of  this. 

The  law  that  binds  the  man  fits  not  the  king. 

And  why  should  I,  myself  in  conscious  guilt, 

Make  bold  to  sit  in  judgment  on  my  lord  ? 

Let  her  forgive  who  most  forgiveness  needs. 
Aegisthus:  In  very  truth  there's  room  for  mutual  grace. 

But  thou  know'st  naught  of  royal  privilege. 

Thee  will  the  king  judge  harshly,  to  himseli 

A  milder  law  in  gentler  mood  apply. 

And  this  they  deem  the  highest  pledge  of  power, 

If,  what  to  common  mortals  is  denied, 

Is  given  by  general  will  to  them  alone. 


240 


245 


250 


255 


260 


265 


270 


Agamemnon  391 


Clykmncstra:  He  pardoned  Helen;  home  is  she  returned, 

To  Mcnelaiis  joined,  though  East  and  West 

Have  been  engulfed  for  her  in  common  woe. 
Aegisthus:  But  Menelaiis  nursed  no  secret  love,  275 

Which  closed  his  heart  unto  his  lawful  wife. 

Thy  lord  seeks  charge  against  thee,  cause  of  strife. 

Suppose  thy  heart  and  life  were  free  from  guilt: 

What  hoots  an  honest  life,  a  stainless  heart, 

When  hate  condemns  the  suppliant  unheard  ?  280 

Wilt  thou  seek  Sparta's  shelter,  and  return 

Into  thy  father's  house  i     No  shelter  waits 

The  scorned  of  kings]  that  hope  were  false  indeed. 
Clykmncstra:  None  knows  my  sin  save  one  most  faithful  friend. 
Aegisthus:  In  vain:  no  faith  is  found  in  royal  courts.  285 

Clykmncstra:  But  surely  gifts  will  buy  fidelity. 
Aegisthus:  Faith  bought  by  gifts  is  sold  for  other  gifts. 
Clykmncstra:  My  strength  and  purity  of  soul  revive. 

Why  wouldst  thou  thwart  me  ?    Why,  with  cozening  words, 

Wj  'uldst  thou  persuade  me  to  jfty  ^vil  rn  nrsp.  ?  290 

Dost  think  that  I  would  leave  a  king  of  kings_ 

And  stoop  to  wed  an  outcast  wretch  like  thee  ? 
Aegisthus:  \vTTaF?     seem  I  less  than  Atrcus'  son  to  thee. 

Who  am  Thyestes'  son  ? 
Clykmncstra:  Why,  so  thou  art, 

And  grandson  too. 
Aegisthus:  My  getting  shames  me  not; 

For  Phoebus'  self  is  voucher  for  my  birth. 
Clykmncstr<i:  Name  Phoebus  not  with  thine  incestuous  stock,  295 

\\  bo  1  becked  his  flying  steeds  and  fled  the  sky, 

Withdrawn  in  sudden  night,  lest  he  behold 

Thy  father's  feast.     Wouldst  thou  besmirch  the  gods. 

Thou,  trained  to  revel  iu  unlaw fulJoxfi.? 

Then  get  thee  gone  in  haste,  and  rid  mine  eyes  300 

Of  that  which  doth  disgrace  this  noble  house; 

This  home  is  waiting  for  its  king  and  lord. 
Aegisthus:  Kxilc  is  naught  to  me,  for  I  am  usi 

To  woe.     At  thy  command  I'll  farther  flee 

Than  from  this  house:  I  but  await  thy  word 

To  plunge  my  dagger  in  this  woeful  breast.  305 


M>- 


Tiie    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Clytemnestn  [aside]:  Shall  1  in  cruel  scorn  desert  him  now  ? 
Who  sin  in  company  should  suffer  so. 

[To  Aegisthus.] 
Nay,  come  with  me;  we  will  together  wait 
\The  issue  of  our  dark  and  dangerous  fate. 
[Exeunt  into  the  paku  < .] 
Chorus:1  Sini:  Phoebus'  praise,  O  race  renowned; 

With  festal  laurel  wreathe  your  heads; 
Am!  let  your  virgin  locks  flow  free, 

Ye  Argive  maids. 
And  ye  who  drink  of  the  cold  Erasinus, 
Who  dwell  by  Eurotas, 

Who  know  the  green  banks  of  the  silent  Ismenus, 
Come  join  in  our  singing; 

And  do  ye  swell  our  chorus,  ye  far  Theban  daughters, 
Whom  the  child  of  Tiresias,  Manto  the  seer, 
Once  taught  to  bow  down  to  the  Delian  gods. 

Now  peace  has  come: 
Unbend  thy  victorious  bow,  O  Apollo, 
Lay  down  from  thy  shoulder  thy  quiver  of  arrows, 
And  let  thy  tuneful  lyre  resound 
To  the  touch  of  thy  swift-flying  fingers. 
No  lofty  strain  be  thine  today, 
But  such  as  on  thy  milder  lyre 
Thou  art  wont  to  sound  when  the  learned  muse 

Surveys  thy  sports. 
And  yet,  an'  thou  wilt,  strike  a  heavier  strain, 
As  when  thou  didst  sing  of  the  Titans  o'ercome 

By  Jupiter's  hurtling  bolts; 
When  mountain  on  lofty  mountain  piled, 
Pelion,  Ossa,  and  pine-clad  Olympus, 
Built  high  to  the  sky  for  the  impious  monsters 

Their  ladder's  rocky  rounds. 
Thou  too  be  with  us,  Juno,  queen, 
Who  sharest  the  throne  of  heaven's  lord. 
Mycenae's  altars  blaze  for  thee. 
Thou  alone  dost  protect  us, 
Anxious  and  suppliant; 

■  The  line  arrangement  of  Schroeder  has  been  followed  in  this  Chorus. 


3IO 


315 


320 


325 


33° 


335 


34o 


A  C  A  M   i:  M  N  ()  X 


393 


Thou  art  the  goddess  of  peace, 

And  the  issues  of  war  are  thine;  345 

And  thine  are  the  laurels  of  victory  twined 
On  the  brow  of  our  king  Agamemnon. 
To  thee  the  boxwood  flute  resounds 

In  solemn  festival; 
To  thee  the  maidens  strike  the  harp  350 

In  sweetest  song; 
To  thee  the  votive  torch  is  tossed; 
The  gleaming  heifer,  all  unmarred 

By  the  plow's  rough  touch 

Falls  at  thy  shrine.  355 

And  thou,  child  of  the  Thunderer, 

Pallas  illustrious,  hear; 
Before  whose  might  the  Dardanian  walls 

Have  trembled  and  fallen  to  dust. 
Thee  maidens  and  matrons  in  chorus  united  360 

Exalt  and  adore;  at  thy  approach 
Thy  temple  doors  swing  open  wide, 
While  the  welcoming  throng,  with  garlands  bedecked, 

Rejoice  at  thy  coming; 
And  feeble,  tottering  elders  come 

To  pay  their  vows  of  thanks  and  praise,  365 

And  pour  their  offerings  of  wine 

With  trembling  hands. 
And  to  thee  with  mindful  lips  we  pray, 
Bright  Trivia,  Lucina  called. 
Thy  native  Delos  didst  thou  bid 

Stand  fast  upon  the  sea,  and  float  370 

No  more,  the  wandering  mock  of  winds. 
Ami  now,  with  firmly  fixed  root, 
It  stands  secure,  defies  the  gale, 
And,  wont  of  old  to  follow  ships, 

Now  gives  them  anchorage. 
fProud  Xiobe  thy  vengeance  felt  375 

Who  thy  divinity  defied. 
Now,  high  on  lonely  Sipylus, 
She  sits  and  weeps  in  stony  grief; 
Though  to  insensate  marble  turned, 


394  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Her  tears  flow  fresh  forevermore. 

And  now  both  men  ami  women  join  380 

In  praise  to  the  twin  divinities. 

Hut  thee,  above  all  god8,  we  praise; 

Our  father  ami  our  ruler  thou, 

Lord  of  the  hurtling  thunderbolt, 

At  whose  dread  nod  the  farthest  poles 
Do  quake  and  tremble. 

O  Jove,  thou  founder  of  our  race,  385 

Accept  our  gifts,  and  have  regard 

Unto  thy  faithful  progeny. 
But  lo,  a  warrior  hither  comes  in  haste, 
With  wonted  signs  of  victory  displayed; 

For  on  his  spear  a  laurel  wreath  he  bears —  390 

Eurybates,  our  king's  own  messenger. 

ACT  III 

[Enter  Eurybates  with  laurel-wreathed  spear.] 
Eurybates:  Ye  shrines  and  altars  of  the  heavenly  gods, 
\Ye  Lares  of  my  fathers,  after  long 

And  weary  wanderings,  scarce  trusting  yet 

My  longing  eyes,  I  give  ye  grateful  thanks. 

Pay  now  your  vows  which  you  have  vowed  to  heaven, 

Ye  Argive  people;  for  behold,  your  king,  395 

The  pride  and  glory  of  this  land  of  Greece, 

Back  to  his  father's  house  as  victor  comes. 
[Enter  Clytemnestra  in  time  to  hear  the  concluding  words  of  the  herald.] 
Clytemnestra:  Oh,  joyful  tidings  that  I  long  to  hear! 

)  But  where  delays  my  lord,  whom  I  with  grief 

For  ten  long  years  have  waited  ?    Doth  the  sea 

Still  stay  his  course,  or  hath  he  gained  the  land  ? 
Eurybates:  Unharmed,  by  glory  crowned,  increased  in  praise,  400 

He  hath  set  foot  upon  the  long-sought  shore. 
Clytemnestra:  Then  hail  this  day  with  joy,  and  thank  the  gods 

Who,  though  their  favoring  aid  was  late  bestowed, 

At  last  have  smiled  propitious  on  our  cause. 

But  tell  me  thou,  does  yet  my  brother  live  ? 

Say,  too,  how  fares  my  sister  Helena  ?  405 

Eurybates:  If  prayer  and  hope  prevail,  they  yet  survive; 


Agamemnon  395 


No  surer  tidings  is  it  given  to  speak 

Of  those  who  wander  on  the  stormy  sea. 

Scarce  had  die  swollen  highways  of  the  deep 

Received  our  fleet,  when  ship  from  kindred  ship 

Was  driven,  and  lost  amid  the  gathering  gloom. 

E'en  Agamemnon's  self  in  doubt  and  fear  410 

Went  wandering  upon  the  trackless  waste, 

And  suffered  more  from  Neptune's  buffetings 

Than  he  had  e'er  endured  in  bloody  war. 

And  now,  a  humble  victor,  home  he  comes, 

With  but  a  shattered  remnant  of  his  fleet. 
Clykmneslra^But  say  what  fate  has  swallowed  up  mj  ships, 

And  scattered  our  great  chieftains  o'er  the  sea  ?  415 

Eurybates:  A  sorry  tale  'twould  be:  thou  bid'st  me  mix 

The  bitter  message  with  the  sweet.     But  I, 

Alas,  am  sick  at  heart,  and  cannot  tell 

For  very  horror  our  most  woeful  tale. 
Clytemnesfra:  But  tell  it  even  so;  for  he  who  shrinks 

From  knowledge  of  his  woe  has  greater  fear. 
'    And  ills  half  seen  are  worse  than  certainty.  420 

Kurybaks:  When  Troy  lies  smouldering  'ncath  our  Grecian  fires 

We  quickly  lot  the  spoil,  and  seek  the  sea 

In  eager  haste.     And  now  our  weary  sides 

Are  ease"d  of  the  falchion's  wonted  load; 

Our  shields  along  the  vessels'  lofty  stems 

Unheeded  hang,  and  once  again  our  hands, 

Long  used  to  swords,  are  fitted  to  the  oar;  425 

And  all  impatiently  we  wait  the  word. 

Then  flashed  from  Agamemnon's  ship  the  sign 

That  bade  us  homeward  speed,  and  clear  and  loud 

The  trumpet  pealed  upon  our  joyful  ears; 
■  The  flagship's  gilded  prow  gleamed  on  ahead, 

The  course  directing  for  a  thousand  ships.  430 

A  kindly  breeze  first  stole  into  our  sails 

And  urged  us  softly  on;  the  tranquil  waves 

Scarce  rippled  with  the  Zephyr's  gentle  breath; 

The  sea  was  all  a-glitter  with  the  fleet 

Which  lit  e'en  while  it  hid  the  watery  way. 

'Tis  sweet  to  see  the  empty  shores  of  Troy,  435 


3q6  The    Tragedies    OP    Seneca 

The  broad  plains  Left  in  lonely  solitude. 

The  eager  sailors  ply  the  bending  oars, 

Hands  aiding  sails,  and  move  their  sturdy  arms 

With  rhythmic  swing.     The  furrowed  waters  gleam, 

And  sing  along  the  sides,  while  rushing  prows  440 

Besprinkle  all  the  sea  with  hoary  spray. 

When  fresher  breezes  fill  our  swelling  sails, 

We  eease  from  toil,  and,  stretched  along  the  thwarts, 

We  watch  the  far-off  shores  of  Ilium, 

Fast  fleeing  as  our  vessels  seaward  fare;  445 

Or  tell  old  tales  of  war:  brave  Hector's  threats, 

His  corpse  dishonored,  and  again  restored 

To  purchased  honors  of  the  funeral  pyre; 

And  Priam  sprinkling  with  his  royal  blood 

The  sacred  altar  of  Hercean  Jove. 

Then  to  and  fro  amid  the  briny  sea 

The  dolphins  sport,  and  leap  the  heaving  waves  450 

With  arching  backs;  now  race  in  circles  wide, 

Now  swim  beside  us  in  a  friendly  band, 

Now  dash  ahead  or  follow  in  our  wake; 

Anon  in  wanton  sport  they  smite  our  prows, 

And  so  our  thousand  rushing  barks  surround.  455 

Now  sinks  the  shore  from  view,  the  spreading  plains; 

And  far-off  Ida  seems  a  misty  cloud. 

And  now,  what  but  the  sharpest  eye  can  see, 

Troy's  rising  smoke  blurs  dim  the  distant  sky. 

The  sun  was  bringing  weary  mortals  rest,  460 

And  waning  day  was  giving  place  to  night; 
Cwhen  clouds  began  to  fill  the  western  sky, 

\nd  dim  the  luster  of  the  sinking  sun — 

The  grim  prognostic  of  a  rising  gale. 
\Young  night  had  spangled  all  the  sky  with  stars,  465 

And  empty  sails  hung  languid  on  the  masts; 

When  low,  foreboding  sighings  of  the  wind 

Spring  from  our  landward  side;  the  hidden  shore 

Resounds  afar  with  warning  mutterings; 
I  The  rising  waves  anticipate  the  storm; 

The  moon  is  blotted  out,  the  stars  are  hid,  470 

iThe  sea  leaps  skyward,  and  the  sky  is  gone. 


Agamemnon  397 


Gloom  broods  o'er  all,  but  not  of  night  alone; 
For  blinding  mists  add  blackness  to  the  night, 

iAnd  murky  waves  with  murky  sky  contend. 
Then  in  concerted  rush  from  every  hand 
The  winds  fall  roughly  on  the  ravished  sea, 
And  heave  its  boiling  billows  from  the  depths;  475 

While  east  with  west  wind  struggles,  south  with  north. 
Each  wields  his  wonted  arms  to  lash  the  sea: 
The  fierce  Strymonian  blast  with  rattling  hail 
Roars  on,  and  Libyan  Auster  heaps  the  waves 
Upon  the  seething  sands.     Nor  those  alone  480 

Provoke  the  strife:  for  raving  Notus  first 
Grows  big  with  bursting  clouds  and  swells  the  waves; 
And  boisterous  Eurus  shakes  the  Orient, 
The  far  Arabian  realms  and  morning  seas. 
What  dire  disaster  did  fierce  Corus  work, 
His  dark  face  gleaming  forth  upon  the  deep? 
We  thought  the  very  heavens  would  be  rent,  485 

The  gods  fall  down  from  out  the  riven  sky, 
And  all  revert  to  chaos  as  of  old. 
The  waves  opposed  the  winds,  the  winds  in  turn 
Hurled  back  the  warring  waves.     Nor  was  the  sea 
Within  itself  contained;  but,  lifted  high, 

It  mingled  with  the  streaming  floods  of  heaven.  490 

Nor  were  we  solaced  in  our  dreadful  plight 
By  open  view  and  knowledge  of  our  ills; 
For  darkness  like  the  murky  night  of  Styx 
Hedged  in  our  view.     Vet  was  this  darkness  rent, 
'  When  flashing  lightnings  cleft  the  inky  clouds  495 

With  crashing  bolts.     Vet  e'en  this  fearful  gleam 
Was  welcome  to  our  eyes:  so  sweet  it  is 
To  those  in  evil  plight  to  see  their  ills. 
The  fleet  assists  its  own  destruction,  too, 
Prow  dashing  hard  on  prow,  and  side  on  side; 
Jow  sinks  it  headlong  in  the  yawning  flood, 


(And  now,  belched  forth,  it  sees  the  air  again.  500 

One  plunges  down,  of  its  own  weight  compelled; 
Another,  through  its  gaping  side,  invites 
Destruction  from  the  raging  floods;  a  third 


398  The    TfcAGBDiBS    of    Seneca 

Is  smothered  by  the  tenth  and  mightiest  wave. 
Here  idly  Boats  a  mangled,  shattered  thing, 

Of  all  its  boastful  decoration  shorn; 

And  there  a  ship  sans  sails  and  oars  and  all. 

No  lofty  mast  with  hanging  spars  remains,  5°5 

But,  helpless  hulks,  the  shattered  vessels  drift 

Upon  the  boundless  sea.     Amid  such  ills, 

Of  what  avail  the  hardy  sailor's  art? 

Cold  horror  holds  our  limbs.     The  sailors  stand 

In  dumb  amaze,  and  all  their  tasks  forget; 

While  all,  in  abject  terror,  drop  their  oars, 

And  turn  their  wretched  souls  to  heaven  for  aid.  510 

Now  (marvel  of  the  fates!)  with  common  vows 

The  Greeks  and  Trojans  supplicate  the  skies. 

Now  Pyrrhus  envies  great  Achilles'  fate; 

Ulysses,  Ajax';  Menelaiis,  Hector's; 

And  Priam  seems  to  Agamemnon  blest: 

Yea  all  who  perished  on  the  plains  of  Troy, 

Whose  lot  it  was  to  die  by  human  hand, 

Are  counted  blest  of  heaven,  secure  in  fame,  515 

For  they  rest  safely  in  the  land  they  won. 
"Shall  winds  and  waves  engulf  in  common  fate 

The  faint  of  heart  who  nothing  noble  dare, 
f  And  those  brave  souls  who  quit  themselves  like  men  ? 
,  Must  we  for  naught  resign  ourselves  to  death  ? 

O  thou  of  gods  who  art  not  even  yet 

With  these  our  evil  fortunes  satisfied,  520 

At  last  have  pity  on  our  woeful  plight, 

Which  Ilium  itself  would  weep  to  see. 

If  still  thine  anger  holds,  and  'tis  decreed 

That  we  of  Greece  must  perish  utterly, 

Why  doom  these  Trojans,  for  whose  sake  we  die, 

To  share  our  fate  ?    Allay  the  raging  sea:  525 

For  this  our  fleet  bears  Greeks  and  Trojans  too." 

So  prayed  we,  but  in  vain ;  our  suppliant  words 

Were  swallowed  by  the  raging  storm.     And  lo, 

Another  shape  of  death !     For  Pallas,  armed 

With  those  swift  bolts  her  angry  father  wields, 

Essays  what  ruin  dire  her  threatening  spear, 


s 


Agamemnon  399 

Her  aegis  set  with  stony  Gorgon's  head,  530 

And  these  her  father's  thunderbolts,  can  work. 

Unconquered  by  his  ills,  with  daring  soul, 

Bold  Ajax  struggles  on.     Him,  shortening  sail 

With  halyards  strained,  a  falling  thunderbolt 

Smote  full;  again  the  goddess  poised  her  bolt  535 

With  hand  far  backward  drawn,  like  Jove  himself, 

And  hurled  it  true  with  shock  impetuous. 

Straight  fell  the  bolt,  and,  piercing  man  and  ship, 

It  strewed  them  both  in  ruin  on  the  sea. 

Still  undismayed,  he  overtops  the  waves, 

All  charred  and  blasted  like  some  rugged  cliff,  540 

\  And  bravely  breasts  the  wildly  raging  sea. 

Still  gleaming  with  the  lightning's  lurid  glare, 

He  shines  amid  the  blackness  like  a  torch 

Which  sheds  its  beams  afar  upon  the  deep. 
.At  length  a  jutting  rock  he  gains,  and  shouts 

In  madness:  "Now  have  I  o'ercome  the  sea,  545 

The  flames;  'tis  sweet  to  conquer  sky,  and  waves, 

The  thunderbolts,  and  her  who  brandished  them. 

I've  braved  the  terrors  of  the  god  of  war; 

With  my  sole  arm  I  fronted  Hector,  huge, 

Nor  did  the  darts  of  Phoebus  frighten  me. 

Those  gods,  together  with  their  Phrygians,  550 

I  set  at  naught;  and  shall  I  quake  at  thee  ? 

Thou  hurl'st  with  weakling's  hand  another's  bolts: 

But  what  if  Jove  himself — " 
'  When  madly  thus  he  dared  blaspheme  the  gods, 

Great  Neptune  witli  his  trident  smote  the  rock, 

And  whelmed  its  tottering  bulk  beneath  the  sea.  555 

So,  falling  with  its  fall,  the  madman  lies 

By  earth  and  fire  and  billows  overcome. 

But  us,  poor  shipwrecked,  hopeless  mariners, 

A  worse  destruction  waits.     There  is  a  reef, 

Low  lying,  treacherous  with  ragged  shoals, 

Where  false  Caphereus  hides  his  rocky  foot 

Beneath  the  whirling  waters  of  the  sea.  560 

j  Above  this  reef  the  billows  heave  and  dash, 

And  madly  seethe  with  each  recurring  wave. 


tf 


400  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

High  o'er  this  sp>t  a  frowning  crag  projects, 
Which  views  on  either  side  the  spreading  sea. 

There  distant  lie  thine  own  Pelopian  shores, 

And  there  the  curving  Isthmus,  deep  withdrawn, 

Shielding  the  broad  Aegean  from  the  west  565 

There  blood-stained  Lemnos  looms;  here  Chains1  lies; 

And  yonder  wind-locked  Aulis'  peaceful  port. 

This  lofty  cliff  old  Nauplius  occupied, 

With  hate  inspired  for  Palamedcs'  sake. 

There  his  accursdd  hand  a  beacon  raised 

And  lured  us  onward  to  the  fatal  spot.  570 

Now  hang  our  barks  by  jagged  rocks  transfixed, 

Or  founder,  wrecked  and  wrecking  in  the  shoals; 

And  where  but  now  our  vessels  sought  to  land, 

They  flee  the  land  and  choose  the  angry  waves.  575 

1  With  dawn  the  sea's  destructive  rage  was  spent, 

And  full  atonement  had  been  made  to  Troy. 

Then  came  the  sun  again;  and  brightening  day 

Revealed  the  awful  havoc  of  the  night. 
Clytemnestra:  I  know  not  which  were  better,  grief  or  joy. 

I  do  rejoice  to  see  my  lord  again,  580 

And  yet  my  kingdom's  losses  counsel  tears. 

O  father  Jove,  at  whose  august  command 

The  sounding  heavens  quake,  regard  our  race, 

And  bid  the  angry  gods  be  merciful. 

Let  every  head  be  decked  with  festal  wreath, 

The  flute  resound,  and  at  the  stately  shrine 

Let  snowy  victims  fall  in  sacrifice.  585 

But  lo,  a  grieving  throng,  with  locks  unkempt, 

The  Trojan  women  come;  and  at  their  head, 

With  step  majestic,  queenly,  heaven  inspired, 

Apollo's  bride,  with  his  own  laurel  tired. 
[Enter  band  of  Trojan  women,  led  by  Cassandra.] 
Band  0}  Trojan  women:  Alas,  how  bitter,  yet  how  sweet  a  thing, 

This  love  of  life  we  mortals  cherish  so! 

AVhat  madness,  when  the  door  stands  open  wide  590 

That  frees  us  from  our  ills,  and  death  calls  loud 

And  welcomes  us  to  everlasting  rest ! 

1  Reading,  hinc  el  Chalcida. 


Agamemnon  401 


Who  finds  that  refuge,  fears  no  more 

These  nameless  terrors,  these  assaults, 

These  insolent  assaults  of  fate, 

And  sidelong-glancing  bolts  of  Jove.  595 

Deep  peace  of  death  ! 
\No  frenzied  burgher-throng  to  fear, 
1  No  victor's  threatening  madness  here; 

No  wild  seas  ruffled  by  the  blast; 

No  hosts  in  serried  battle  massed, 

Where  whirling  clouds  of  dust  disclose  600 

The  savage  riders  to  their  foes; 
No  nation  falling  with  its  city's  fall, 
'Mid  smouldering  battlement  and  crumbling  wall; 
No  wasting  fires, 
No  burning  pyres, 
And  all  the  horrors  impious  war  inspires. 
*)  They  from  the  servile  bonds  of  fate  605 

This  human  life  emancipate, 

Who  fickle  fortune  dare  to  brave, 

And  face  the  terrors  of  the  grave; 

Who  joyful  view  the  joyless  Styx, 

And  dare  their  mortal  span  to  fix. 
How  like  a  king,  how  like  a  god  on  high 

Is  he  who  faces  death  nor  fears  to  die!  610 

In  one  dark  night  we  saw  our  city  doomed, 
When  Doric  fires  the  Dardan  homes  consumed; 
But  not  in  battle,  not  by  warlike  arts, 
As  once  it  fell  beneath  Alcides'  darts. 

No  son  of  Thetis  dealt  the  blow  615 

Which  wrought  our  final  overthrow, 

Nor  his  loved  friend,  Patroclus  hight, 

When  once,  in  borrowed  armor  dight, 

Hi   put  our  Trojan  chiefs  to  (light; 

Nor  when  Pelides'  self  gave  o'er  620 

The  fierce  resentment  that  he  bore, 

And  sped  him  forth  on  vengeance  bent — 

Not  even  in  such  evils  pent, 

Did  Troy  to  cruel  fortune  bend, 

But  struggled  bravely  to  the  end. 


- 


402  The    Tragedies    or    Seneca 

Her  bitter  Gate    for  ten  Long  years  to  stand. 

Ami  fall  at  last  1  >y  one  vile  trickster's  hand.  625 

In  memory  still  we  see  the  monstrous  bulk 

I  m'  that  pretended  and  most  fatal  gift, 

The  Grecian  horse,  which  we,  too  credulous, 

With  our  own  hands  into  our  city  led. 

The  noisy-footed  monster  stumbled  oft  630 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  city  gate, 

While  in  its  roomy  hold  crouched  kings  and  war. 

And  we  might  well  have  turned  their  crafty  arts 

To  work  their  own  destruction.     But  alas, 

We  neither  saw  nor  heeded.     Oftentimes 

The  sound  of  clashing  shields  smote  on  our  ears, 

And  low  and  angry  mutterings  within  635 

Where  Pyrrhus  'gainst  the  shrewd  Ulysses  strove. 

Now  free  from  fear  our  Trojan  youth 

Crowd  round  to  touch  the  sacred  cords 

With  joyous  hands.     Astyanax 

Here  leads  his  youthful  playmates  on, 

While  'midst  the  maidens  gaily  comes 

The  maid  Polyxena,  foredoomed 

To  bleed  upon  Achilles'  tomb.  640 

Mothers  in  festal  garments  bring 

Their  votive  offerings  to  the  gods, 

And  sires  press  gaily  round  the  shrines.  645 

Throughout  the  town  all  faces  tell 

One  tale  of  joy,  e'en  Hecuba, 

Who,  since  her  Hector's  fatal  pyre, 

Had  never  ceased  her  tears,  was  glad. 

But  now,  unhappy  grief,  what  first, 

What  last,  dost  thou  prepare  to  weep  ?  650 

Our  city  walls  in  ruin  laid, 

Though  built  by  heavenly  hands  ?  our  shrines 

Upon  their  very  gods  consumed  ? 

Nay,  nay;  long  since  our  weary  eyes 

Have  dried  their  tears  for  these.     But  now 

We  weep,  O  father,  king,  for  thee.  655 

We  saw,  writh  our  own  eyes  we  saw, 
The  old  man  slain  by  Pyrrhus'  impious  hand, 


Agamemnon  403 


Whose  scanty  blood  scarce  stained  the  gleaming  brand. 
Cassandra:  Restrain  your  tears  which  lingering  time  awaits, 

Ye  Trojan  dames;  weep  Dot  for  me  and  mine.  660 

Let  each  bewail  her  several  woes;  but  I 
For  my  own  heavy  grief  have  tears  enough. 
Band:  Yet  'tis  a  balm  of  grief  to  know 

That  our  own  tears  with  others'  How; 

More  sharply  gnawrs  the  hidden  care  665 

Which  we  with  others  may  not  share: 
\  And  thou,  though  strong  of  soul,  inured  to  grief, 
/  Canst  not  in  thine  own  weeping  find  relief. 

Though  Philomel  for  Itys  sing  670 

Her  sad,  sweet  notes  in  wakening  spring; 

Though  Procne,  with  insistent  din, 

Bewail  her  husband's  hidden  sin;  675 

Not  these,  with  all  their  passionate  lament, 
Can  voice  the  sorrows  in  thy  bosom  pent. 

Let  Cycnus  raise  his  dying  song, 

And  its  soft,  plaintive  strains  prolong; 

Let  Halcyon  mourn  her  Ceyx  brave,  680 

A-flutter  o'er  the  tossing  wave; 

Let  priests  of  tower-crowned  Cybele  685 

Their  tears  for  Attis  share  with  thee: 
Still  would  our  tears  in  no  such  measure  flow,  690 

For  sufferings  like  these  no  limits  know. 
[Cassandra  lays  aside  her  fillets.] 
But  why  dost  lay  aside  the  sacred  wool  ? 
VMost  by  the  wretched  should  the  gods  be  feared. 
Cassandrai\But  ills  like  mine  o'erleap  the  hounds  of  fear.  695 

I'll  supplicate  the  heavenly  gods  no  more, 
For  now  am  I  beyond  their  power  to  harm, 
And  I  have  drained  to  dregs  the  cup  of  fate. 
No  country  have  I  left,  no  sister,  sire; 

For  tombs  and  altars  have  my  blood  consumed.  700 

Where  is  that  happy  throng  of  brothers  now  ? 
Departed  all!     And  only  weak  old  men 
Remain  within  the  lonely  palace  walls 
To  serve  the  wretched  king;  and  these,  alas, 
Throughout  those  stately  chambered  halls  behold, 


404  T 111.    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Save  Spartan  Helen,  none  but  widowed  wives. 

And  Hecuba,  proud  mother  of  a  ran-  705 

Of  kings,  herself  the  queen  of  Phrygia, 

Fecund  for  funeral  pyres,  became  the  mock 
/Of  fickle  fate;  and  now  in  bestial  form, 

Barks  madly  round  the  ruins  of  her  home, 

Surviving   Troy,  son,  husband,  and  herself. 
Band:  Why  falls  this  sudden  silence  on  her?     See,  710 

\Hcr  cheeks  are  pale,  and  fits  of  trembling  fear 

Possess  her  frame;  her  locks  in  horror  rise, 

And  we  can  hear,  though  pent  within  her  breast, 

The  loud  pulsations  of  her  fluttering  heart. 

Her  glance  uncertain  wanders;  and  anon 

Her  eyes  seem  backward  turned  into  herself,  715 

Then  fix  again  and  harshly  stare  abroad. 

Now  higher  than  her  wont  she  lifts  her  head 

And  walks  with  stately  step;  and  now  she  strives 

To  open  her  reluctant  lips.     At  last, 

Though  struggling  still  against  th'  inspiring  god, 
\The  maddened  priestess  speaks  with  muttered  words. 
Cassandra:  Why  prick  me  on  with  fury's  goads  anew,  720 

Ye  sacred  slopes  of  high  Parnassus  ?    Why 

>Tust  I,  insensate,  prophesy  afresh? 

Away,  thou  prophet  god !     I  am  not  thine. 

Subdue  the  fires  that  smoulder  in  my  breast. 

Whose  doom  yet  waits  my  frenzied  prophecy  ? 

Now  Troy  is  fallen — must  I  still  rave  on,  725 

And  speak  unheeded  words  ?     Oh,  where  am  I  ? 

The  kindly  light  has  fled,  and  deepest  night 

Enshrouds  my  face,  and  all  the  heavens  lie  wrapped 

In  deepest  gloom.     But  see,  with  double  sun, 

The  day  shines  forth  again;  and  doubled  homes 

In  doubled  Argos  seem  to  stand.     Again 

I  see  Mount  Ida's  groves.     The  shepherd  sits  730 

Amid  those  awful  goddesses  to  judge 

(Oh,  fatal  judgment!)  twixt  their  rival  charms. 

Ye  mighty  kings,  I  warn  ye,  fear  the  fruit 

Of  stolen  love;  that  rustic  foundling  soon 

Shall  overthrow-  your  house. 


Agamemnon  405 


Beware  the  .gusen ! 

Why  does  she  madly  in  her  woman's  hand 

Those  naked  weapons  bear  ?     Whom  does  she  seek  735 

With  brandished  battle-ax,  though  Spartan  bred, 

(,Like  some  fierce  warrior  of  the  Amazons  ? 

What  horrid  vision  next  affronts  mine  eyes? 

A  mighty  Afric  lion,  king  of  beasts, 

Lies  low,  death -smitten  by  his  cruel  mate; 

While  at  his  mangled1  neck  a  low-born  beast  740 

Gnaws  greedily. 

Why  do  ye  summon  me, 

Saved  only  of  my  house,  ye  kindred  shades  ? 

I'll  follow  thee,  my  father,  buried2  deep 
^Beneath  the  stones  of  Troy;  and  thee,  O  prop 

Of  Phrygia,  the  terror  of  the  Greeks, 

I  see,  though  not  in  brave  and  fair  array, 

As  once  thou  cam'st,  still  flushing  with  the  glow  745 

Of  burning  ships;  but  with  thy  members  torn 

And  foully  mangled  by  the  dragging  thongs. 

And  thee,  O  Troi'lus,  I  follow  too, 

Alas,  too  quickly  met  with  Peleus'  son ! 

I  see  thy  face,  my  poor  Delphobus, 

Past  recognition  scarred.     Is  this  the  gift 

Of  thy  new  wife  ?  750 

Ah  me,  'tis  sweet  to  go 

Along  the  borders  of  the  Stygian  pool; 

To  see  the  savage  hound  of  Tartarus, 

The  realms  of  greedy  Dis,  and  Charon  old, 

Whose  dusky  skiff  shall  bear  two  royal  souls 

Across  the  murky  Phlegethon  today, 

The  vanquished  and  the  vanquisher.     Ye  shades, 

And  thee,  dread  stream,  by  which  the  gods  of  heaven  755 

Do  swear  their  straightest  oaths,  I  pray  ye  both: 

Withdraw  the  curtain  of  your  hidden  realm, 

That  so  yon  shadowy  throng  of  Phrygians 

May  look  upon  Mycenae's  woes.     Behold, 
^Poor  souls;  the  wheel  of  fortune  backward  turns. 

See,  see !  the  squalid  sisters  come,  760 

'  Reading,  vexalus.  '  Reading,  MA  TroiA  scpulle. 


i 


406  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Tlu-ir  bloody  lashes  brandishing, 

And  smoking  torches  half  consumed. 

A  sickly  pallor  overspreads 

Their  bloated  cheeks;  and  dusky  robes 

Of  death  begird  their  hollow  loins. 

I  be  gloomy  night  with  fearsome  cries  765 

Resounds,  and  to  my  startled  eyes 

Oread  sights  appear:  tlnre  lie  the  bones 

Of  that  huge  giant,  far  outstretched, 

Upon  a  slimy  marsh's  brink 

All  white  and  rotting.     Now  I  see 

That  old  man,  wan  with  suffering, 

Forget  awhile  the  mocking  waves,  770 

Forget  his  burning  thirst,  to  grieve 

For  this  disaster  hovering 

About  his  house; 

But  Dardanus  exults  to  see 

His  foeman's  baleful  destiny. 
Band:  Now  has  her  rage  prophetic  spent  itself,  775 

And  fall'n  away;  like  some  devoted  bull, 
Which  sinks  with  tottering  knees  before  the  shrine 
Beneath  the  sacrificial  axe's  stroke. 
Let  us  support  her  ere  she  faint  and  fall. 
But  see,  our  Agamemnon  comes  at  last 
To  greet  his  gods,  with  bay  of  victory  crowned; 
And,  all  in  festal  garb,  with  glad  accord.  780 

His  consort  welcomes  her  returning  lord. 

ACT  IV 

[Enter    Agamemnon.     He    is    met    and   greeted   by    his   wife,    who 

returns  into  the  palace.] 

Agamemnon:  At  last  in  safety  am  I  home  returned. 

Oh,  hail,  belovdd  land !     I  bring  thee  spoil 
From  many  barbarous  tribes;  and  Troy  at  length, 
I  So  long  the  mistress  of  the  haughty  east,  785 

Submits  herself  as  suppliant  to  thee. 
But  see,  Cassandra  faints,  and  trembling  falls 
With  nerveless  form.     Ye  slaves  with  speed  uplift  her; 
Revive  her  drooping  spirits  with  the  chill 


Agamemnon  407 


Of  water  on  her  face.     Her  languid  eyes 

Again  behold  the  light  of  day.     Arise, 

Cassandra,  and  recall  thy  sluggish  sense. 

That  shelter  from  our  woes,  so  long  desired,  790 

Is  here  at  last.     This  is  a  festal  day. 
Cassandra:  Remember  Ilium's  festal  day.  1H 

Agamemnon:  But  come, 

We'll  kneel  before  the  shrine. 
Cassandra:  Before  the  shrine 

My  father  fell. 
Agamemnon:  We  will  together  pray 

In  thankfulness  to  Jove. 
Cassandra:  Hercean  Jove? 

Agamemnon:  Thou  think'st  of  Ilium  ? 
Cassandra:  And  Priam  too. 

Agamemnon:  This  is  not  Troy.  795 

Cassandra:  Where  a  Helen  is,  is  Troy. 

Agamemnon:  Fear  not  thy  mistress,  though  in  captive's  bonds. 
Cassandra:  But  freedom  is  at  hand. 
Agamemnon:  Live  on  secure. 

^Cassandra:  I  think  that  death  is  my  security. 
Agamemnon:  For  thee  there's  naught  to  fear. 
Cassandra:  But  much  for  thee. 

Agamemnon:  What  can  a  victor  fear? 
Cassandra:  What  least  he  fears. 

Agamemnon:  Keep  her,  ye  faithful  slaves,  in  careful  guard,  800 

Till  she  shall  throw  this  mood  of  madness  off, 

Lest  in  unbridled  rage  she  harm  herself. 

To  thee,  O  father,  who  the  blinding  bolt 

Dost  hurl,  at  whose  command  the  clouds  disperse, 

Who  rul'st  the  starry  heavens  and  the  lands, 

To  whom  triumphant  victors  bring  their  spoils; 

And  thee,  O  sister  of  thy  mighty  lord,  805 

Argolic  Juno,  here  I  offer  now 

All  fitting  gifts — and  so  fulfil  my  vow. 
[Exit  into  the  palace.) 
Chorus  oj  Argive  women:  O  Argos,  famed  for  thy  worthy  sons, 
And  dear  to  the  jealous  Juno's  heart, 
How  mighty  the  children  who  feed  at  thy  breast!  810 


408  'Fur      T  B   \  G  E  D  I  E  S     0  P      S  E  N  E  C  A 

Thou  hast  added  a  god  to  the  ranks  of  immortals; 
For  Alt  ides  has  won  by  liis  labors  heroic 
The  right  to  be  named  with  the  lords  of  the  sky. 
Abides  the  groat!  at  his  birth  were  the  laws 
( >t'  the  universe  broken;  for  Jove  bade  the  night 
Hi.  To  double  the  dew-laden  hours  of  the  darkness.  815 

y.  At  liis  command  did  the  god  of  the  sun 

,\To  a  sluggish  pace  restrain  his  car; 

I  And  slow  of  foot  around  their  course, 
O  pale,  white  moon,  thy  horses  paced. 
He  also  checked  his  feet,  the  star, 

Which  hails  the  dawn,  but  glows  as  oft  820 

In  the  evening  sky;  and  he  marveled  that  he 
Should  be  called  Hesperus.     'Tis  said  that  Aurora 
Roused  to  her  wonted  task,  but  again 
Sank  back  to  her  sleep  on  the  breast  of  Tithonus: 
For  long  must  the  night  be,  and  tardy  the  morning, 
That  waits  for  the  birth  of  a  hero  divine.  825 

The  swift-whirling  vault  of  the  sky  stood  still 
To  greet  thee,  O  youth  to  the  heavens  appointed. 
Thy  labors  how  many  and  mighty!     Thy  hand 
Has  the  terrible  lion  of  Nemea  felt,  830 

The  fleet-footed  hind,  and  the  ravaging  boar 
That  Arcadia  feared.     Loud  bellowed  the  bull 

When  torn  from  the  fields  of  Crete; 
Thou  didst  conquer  the  Hydra,  which  fed  on  destruc- 
tion, 835 
And  severed  the  last  of  its  multiplied  heads. 
The  dread  giant,  Geryon,  three  monsters  in  one, 
Fell  slain  with  one  blow  of  thy  crashing  club; 
But  his  oxen,  the  famous  Hesperian  herds, 
Were  driven  away  as  the  spoils  of  the  east.  840 
The  terrible  steeds  of  the  Thracian  king, 
Which  their  master  fed  not  on  the  grass  of  the  Strymon, 
Or  the  green  banks  of  Hobrus  (but,  cruel  and  bloody, 
With  flesh  of  the  hapless  wayfarer  he  fed  them),  845 
These  steeds  did  our  Hercules  take,  and  in  vengeance, 
As  their  last  gory  feast  gave  the  flesh  of  their  master. 
The  spoil  of  her  girdle  Hippolyte  saw 


A  G  A  M   I    M  N  O  N  409 


A-gleam  on  her  conqueror's  breast. 
The  Stymphalian  bird  fell  down  from  the  clouds  850 

By  his  arrows  death-smitten, 
And  the  tree  which  bears  the  fruit  of  gold 
Feared  his  approach,  but,  despoiled  of  its  treasures, 
Lifted  high  in  the  air  its  burdenless  branches. 
Forth  from  the  ravished  grove  he  strode  855 

With  its  golden  fruit  full  laden;  in  vain 
Did  the  deadly,  sleepless  dragon  guard 
Hear  the  sound  of  the  musical  metal. 
By  triple  chains  to  the  upper  world 

The  hound  of  hell  was  meekly  dragged;  860 

His  three  great  mouths  in  silence  gaped, 

Amazed  by  the  light  of  day. 
And,  greatest  of  toils,  beneath  his  might, 
The  lying  house  of  Dardanus 
Was  overthrown,  and  felt  the  force 
Of  that  dread  bow  which  it  was  doomed 
In  far-off  time  to  feel  again. 
Ten  days  sufficed  for  Troy's  first  overthrow;  865 

As  many  years  her  second  ruins  know. 

ACT  V 

Cassandra  [alone  upon  the  stage,  standing  where  she  can  see  the  interior 
0}  the  palace,  describes  what  is  going  on  there;  or  else  she  sees  it  by 
clairvoyant  power]: 

Great  deeds  are  done  within,  the  cruel  match 

For  ten  long  years  of  suffering  at  Troy. 
Was,  what  do  they  there  ?     Arise,  my  soul, 

/And  take  reward  for  thy  mad  prophecies. 

The  conquered  Phrygians  are  victors  now. 

'Tis  well!  O  Troy,  thou  risest  from  the  dust,  870 

For  thou  hast  now  to  equal  ruin  brought 

Mycenae  too.     Low  lies  thy  conqueror. 

«  >h,  ne'er  before  has  my  prophetic  soul 

So  clearly  seen  the  things  of  which  it  raved. 

I  see,  and  no  false  image  cheats  my  sight, 

I    ee  it  plainly:  there,  within  the  hall.  875 

A  royal  feast  is  spread,  and  thronged  with  guests, 


410      The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 

Like  that  last  fatal  feast  of  ours  at  Troy. 
The  couches  gleam  with  Trojan  tapestries; 
Their  wine  they  quaff  from  rare  old  cups  of  gold 
That  once  cheered  greal  Assaracus;  and  see, 
^The  king  himself,  in  'broidered  vestment  dad, 
Sits  high  in  triumph  at  the  table's  head,  880 

With  Priam's  noble  spoils  upon  his  breast. 
Now  comes  his  queen  and  bids  him  put  away 
The  garment  which  his  enemy  has  worn, 
And  don  instead  the  robe  which  she  has  made 
With  loving  thoughts  of  him 

Oh,  horrid  deed! 
I  shudder  at  the  sight.     Shall  that  base  man, 
That  exile,  smite  a  king  ?     the  paramour 
The  husband  slay  ?    The  fatal  hour  has  come.  885 

The  second  course  shall  flow  with  royal  bloody 
And  gory  streams  shall  mingle  with  the  wine. 
And  now  the  king  has  donned  the  deadly  robe, 
\  Which  gives  him  bound  and  helpless  to  his  fate. 
His  hands  no  outlet  find;  the  clinging  gown 
Enwraps  his  head  in  dark  and  smothering  folds. 
With  trembling  hand  the  coward  paramour  890 

Now  smites  the  king,  but  not  with  deadly  wound; 
For  in  mid  stroke  his  nerveless  hand  is  stayed. 
But,  as  some  shaggy  boar  in  forest  wilds, 
Within  the  net's  strong  meshes  caught,  still  strives 
And  strains  to  burst  his  bonds,  yet  all  in  vain: 
So  Agamemnon  seeks  to  throw  aside  895 

The  floating,  blinding  folds.     In  vain;  and  yet, 
Though  blind  and  bound,  he  seeks  his  enemy. 
Now  frenzied  Clytemnestra  snatches  up 
A  two-edged  battle-ax;  and,  as  the  priest, 
Before  he  smites  the  sacrificial  bull, 
Marks  well  the  spot  and  meditates  his  aim: 
So  she  her  impious  weapon  balances.  900 

He  has  the  blow.     'Tis  done.     The  severed  head 
Hangs  loosely  down,  and  floods  the  trunk  with  gore. 
Nor  do  they  even  yet  their  weapons  stay: 
The  base-born  wretch  hacks  at  the  lifeless  corpse, 


A'gamemnon  411 


While  she,  his  mate,  pursues  her  bloody  task.  905 

So  each  responds  to  each  in  infamy. 

Thyestes'  son  in  very  truth  is  he, 

While  she  to  Helen  proves  her  sisterhood. 

The  sun  stands  doubtful  on  the  edge  of  day; 

Shall  he  go  on  or  backward  bend  his  way  ? 
[Remains  beside  the  altar.] 

[Enter  Electra,  leading  her  little  brother,  Orestes.] 
Electra:       Flee,  sole  avenger  of  my  father's  death,  910 

Oh,  flee,  and  shun  these  impious  butchers'  hands. 

Our  royal  house  is  utterly  o'erthrown, 

Our  kingdom  gone. 

But  see,  a  stranger  comes, 

His  horses  driven  to  their  utmost  speed; 

Come,  brother,  hide  thyself  beneath  my  robe. 
I  But,  O  my  foolish  heart,  whom  dost  thou  fear  ?  915 

A  stranger  ?     Nay,  thy  foes  are  here  at  home. 

Put  off  thy  fears,  for  close  at  hand  I  see 

The  timely  shelter  of  a  faithful  friend. 
[Enter  Strophius  in  a  chariot,  accompanied  by  his  son  Pylades.] 
Strophius:  I,  Strophius,  had  left  my  Phocian  realm, 

And  now,  illustrious  with  th'  Olympic  palm, 

I  home  return.     My  hither  course  is  bent 

To  'gratulate  my  friend,  by  whose  assault  920 

Has  Ilium  fallen  after  years  of  war. 
[Noticing  Electra's  distress.] 

But  why  these  flowing  tears  and  looks  of  woe  ? 
\  And  why  these  marks  of  fear  ?     I  recognize 

In  thee  the  royal  house.     Electra  !     Why, 

When  all  is  joyful  here,  dost  thou  lament  ? 
Electra:        My  father  lies  within  the  palace,  slain  925 

By  Clytemnestra's  hand.     His  son  is  doomed 

To  share  his  father's  death.     Aegisthus  holds 

The  throne  which  he  through  guilty  love  has  gained. 
Strophius:  Oh,  happiness  that  never  long  endures! 
Electra:        By  all  thy  kindly  memories  of  my  sire, 

By  his  proud  scepter,  known  to  all  the  earth,  930 

And  by  the  fickle  gods,  I  pray  thee  take 

My  brother  hence,  and  hide  him  from  his  foes. 


4ia  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Stropliius:  (Although  dead  Agamemnon  bitls  me  fear, 

I'll  brave  the  danger  and  thy  1  neither  save. 

Good  fortune  asks  for  faith;  adversity 

Compels  us  to  be  true. 

[Takes  Orestes  into  the  <  hariol.] 
My  lad,  attend: 

Wear  this  wild-olive  wreath  upon  thy  brow,  935 

The  noble  prize  I  won  on  Pisa's  plain; 

And  hold  above  thy  head  this  leafy  branch, 

The  palm  of  victory,  that  it  may  be 

A  shield  and  omen  of  success  to  thee. 

And  do  thou  too,  O  Pylades,  my  son,  940 

Who  dost  as  comrade  guide  thy  father's  car, 

From  my  example  faith  in  friendship  learn. 

Do  you,  swift  steeds,  before  the  eyes  of  Greece 

Speed  on  in  flight,  and  leave  this  faithless  land. 
[Exeunt  at  great  speed.] 
Electra  [looking  ajter  them]:  So  is  he  gone.     His  car  at  reckless  pace 

Fast  vanishes  from  sight.     And  now  my  foes,  945 

.  With  heart  released  from  care,  will  I  await, 
1  And  willingly  submit  my  head  to  death. 

Here  comes  the  bloody  conqueror  of  her  lord, 

And  bears  upon  her  robes  the  stains  of  blood. 

Her  hands  still  reek  with  gore,  and  in  her  face 

She  bears  the  witness  of  her  impious  crime.  950 

I'll  hie  me  to  the  shrine;  and,  kneeling  here, 

I'll  join  Cassandra  in  our  common  fear. 
[Enter  Clytemnestra,  jresh  from  the  murder  oj  her  husband.] 
Clytemnestra  [to  Electra]:  Thou  base,  unfilial,  and  fro  ward  girl, 

Thy  mother's  foe,  by  what  authority 

Dost  thou,  a  virgin,  seek  the  public  gaze  ? 
Electra:       Because  I  am  a  virgin  have  I  left  955 

The  tainted  home  of  vile  adulterers. 
Clytemnestra:  Who  would  believe  thee  chaste  ? 
Electra:  I  am  thy  child. 

Clytemnestra:  Thou  shouldst  thy  mother  speak  with  gentler  tongue. 
Electra:       Shall  I  learn  filial  piety  of  thee  ? 
Clytemnestra:  Thou  hast  a  mannish  soul,  too  puffed  with  pride; 

But  tamed  by  suffering  thou  soon  shalt  learn 


Agamemnon  413 


To  play  a  woman's  part. 
Electra:  A  woman's  part! 

Yea,  truly,  'tis  to  wield  the  battle-ax.  960 

Clytemnestra:  Thou  fool,  dost  think  thyself  a  match  for  us? 
Electra:     "For  us  ?"     Hast  thou  another  husband  then  ? 

Speak  thou  as  widow,  for  thy  lord  is  dead. 
Clytemnestra:  As  queen  I  soon  shall  curb  thy  saucy  tongue, 

And  break  thy  pride.     But  meanwhile  quickly  tell,  965 

Where  is  my  son,  where  is  thy  brother  hid  ? 
Eleclra:       Far  from  Mycenae  fled. 

Clytemnestra:  Then  bring  him  back. 

Electra:        Bring  hark  my  father  too. 
Clytemnestra:  'Where  lurks  the  boy? 

Electra:       In  safety,  where  he  fears  no  rival's  power. 

This  will  content  a  loving  mother. 
Clytemnestra:  Yes, 

But  not  an  angry  one.     Thou  diest  today.  970 

Eleclra:       Oh,  let  me  perish  by  thy  practiced  hand ! 

Ik-hold,  I  leave  the  altar's  sheltering  side; 

Wilt  plunge  the  knife  into  my  tender  throat  ? 

I  yield  me  to  thy  will.     Or  dost  prefer 

At  one  fell  stroke  to  smite  away  my  head  ? 

My  neck  awaits  thy  deadly  aim.     Let  crime  975 

By  other  crime  be  purged.     Thy  hands  are  stained 

And  reeking  with  thy  murdered  husband's  blood: 

Come,  cleanse  them  in  the  fresher  stream  of  mine. 
[Enter  Aegisthus.] 
Clytemnestra:  Thou  partner  of  my  perils  and  my  throne, 

Aegisthus,  come;  this  most  unnatural  child 

Assails  her  mother  and  her  brother  hides.  980 

Aegisthus: ■(Thou  mad  and  foolish  girl,  restrain  thy  tongue, 

For  such  wild  words  offend  thy  mother's  ears. 
Electra:       Thou  arch  contriver  of  most  impious  crime, 

Wilt  thou  admonish  me  ?     Thou  base-born  wretch, 

Thou  sister's  son,  and  grandson  of  thy  sire!  '985 

Clytemnestra:  Aegisthus,  how  canst  thou  restrain  thy  hand 

From  smiting  off  her  head  ?     But  hear  my  word: 

Let  her  give  up  her  brother  or  her  life. 
Aegisthus:  Nay,  rather,  in  some  dark  and  stony  cell 


414  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Let  her  be  straight  confined;  and  there,  perchance, 

By  cruel  tortures  racked,  will  sin-  give  up  990 

Whom  now  she  hides.    Resouroeless,  starving  there, 

In  dunk  and  loathsome  solitude  immured, 

Widowed,  ere  wedded,  exiled,  scorned  of  all — 

Then  will  she,  though  too  late,  to  fortune  yield. 
Elcctra:     |Oh,  grant  me  death. 
I-  ristkus:  If  thou  shouldst  plead  for  life, 

I'd  grant  thee  death.     A  foolish  ruler  he,  995 

Who  balances  by  death  the  score  of  sin. 
Ekdro:        Can  any  punishment  be  worse  than  death  ? 
Aegisthus:  Yes!  Life  for  those  who  wish  to  die.     Away, 

Ye  slaves,  seek  out  some  dark  and  lonely  cave, 

Far  from  Mycenae's  bounds;  and  there  in  chains, 

Confine  this  bold,  unmanageable  maid, 

If  haply  prison  walls  may  curb  her  will.  1000 

[Electra  w  led  away.] 
Clytcmnestra  [indicating  Cassandra]:  But  she  shall  die,  that  rival  of  my 
couch, 

That  captive  bride.     Go,  drag  her  hence  at  once, 

That  she  may  follow  him  she  stole  from  me. 
Cassandra:  Nay,  drag  me  not;  for  I  with  joy  will  go, 

Outstripping  your  desire.     How  eagerly 

I  hasten  to  my  Phrygians,  to  tell  1005 

The  news:  the  ocean  covered  with  the  wrecks 

Of  Argive  ships;  Mycenae  overthrown; 

The  leader  of  a  thousand  leaders  slain 

(And  thus  atoning  for  the  woes  of  Troy) 

By  woman's  gift  of  wantonness  and  guile. 

Make  haste!  I  falter  not,  but  thank  the  gods,  1010 

That  I  have  lived  to  see  my  land  avenged. 
Clylemnestra:  O  maddened  wretch,  thy  death  I  wait  to  see. 
Cassandra:  A  fateful  madness  waits  as  well  for  thee. 


OCTAVIA 


OCTAVIA 
A  FABULA  PRAETEXTA 
THE   ONLY   EXTANT  ROMAN   HISTORICAL  DRAMA 

INTRODUCTION 

The  Roman  historical  drama  had  a  place  among  the  earliest  products 
of  Roman  literature,  and  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  degree  of  popularity 
through  all  succeeding  periods.  That  Roman  literary  genius  did  not 
find  a  much  fuller  expression  through  this  channel  was  not  due  to  a  lack 
of  national  pride  and  patriotism,  nor  yet  to  a  dearth  of  interesting  and 
inspiring  subjects  in  Roman  history.  The  true  reason  is  probably  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  by  the  time  national  conditions  were  ripe  for  the  devel- 
opment of  any  form  of  literature,  the  Greeks  had  already  worked,  and 
well  worked,  nearly  all  available  fields,  and  had  produced  a  mass  of  litera- 
ture which  dazzled  the  Roman  mind  when  at  last  circumstances  brought 
these  two  nations  into  closer  contact. 

The  natural  and  immediate  result  was  an  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  Romans  to  imitate  these  great  models.  And  hence  we  have  in 
drama,  both  in  tragedy  and  comedy,  a  wholesale  imitation  of  the  Greek 
dramas,  oftentimes  nothing  more  than  a  translation  of  these,  with  only 
here  and  there  an  attempt  to  produce  something  of  a  strictly  native  char- 
acter, entirely  independent  of  the  Greek  influence. 

This  imitative  impulse  was  augmented  by  the  fact  that  the  Romans 
were  followingjhf  l'nf>  "f  l«-n«>t  resistance,  since  it  is  always  easier  to  imitate 
than  to  create.  Furthermore,  they  had  as  yet  developed  no  national 
pride  of  literature  to  hold  them  to  their  own  lines  of  national  development; 
they  had  no  forms  of  their  own  so  well  established  that  the  mere  force  of 
literary  momentum  would  carry  them  steadily  on  toward  a  fuller  devel- 
opment, in  spite  of  the  disturbing  influences  of  the  influx  of  other  and  better 
models.  They  had,  indeed,  developed  a  native  Saturnian  verse  which, 
had  it  been  allowed  a  free  field,  might  have  reached  a  high  pitch  of  literary 
excellence.  But  it  speedily  gave  way  at  the  approach  of  the  more  elegant 
imported  forms. 

The  overwhelming  influence  of  Greek  tragedy  upon  the  Roman  drama- 
tists can  be  seen  at  a  glance  as  we  review   the   dramatic  product  of   the 

4i7 


4i8  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Roman  tragedians.     We  have  titles  and  fragments  of  nine  tragedies  by 

I.ivius  Andronicus,  seven  by  Naevius,  twenty  two  by  Knnius,  thirteen  by 
Pacuvius,  forty  six  by  Accius,  and  many  unassignable  fragments  from 
each  of  these  which  indicate  numerous  other  plays  of  the  same  character. 

To  these  should  be  added  scattering  additions  from  nearly  a  score 
more  of  Roman  writers  during  the  next  two  hundred  years  after 
Accius.  All  the  above-mentioned  plays  are  on  Greek  subjects;  and  most 
of  those  whose  fragments  are  sufficiently  extensive  to  allow  us  to  form  an 
opinion  of  their  character  are  either  translations  or  close  imitations  of  the 
( i  reeks,  or  are  so  intluenced  by  these  as  to  be  decidedly  Greek  rather  than 
Roman  in  character. 

And  what  of  the  genuine  Roman  dramatic  product  ?  Speaking  for  the 
jabula  pradexta,  or  Roman  historical  drama,  alone,  the  entire  output,  so 
far  as  our  records  go,  is  contained  in  the  following  list  of  authors  and  titles. 

From  Naevius  (265-204  B.  c.)  we  have  the  Clastidium,  written  in 
celebration  of  the  victory  of  Marcellus  over  Vidumarus,  king  of  the  Trans- 
padane  Gauls,  whom  Marcellus  slew  and  stripped  of  his  armor,  thus 
gaining  the  rare  spolia  opima;  this  at  Clastidium  in  222  B.  c.  The 
play  was  probably  written  for  the  especial  occasion  either  of  the  triumph 
of  Marcellus  or  of  the  celebration  of  his  funeral. 

We  have  also  from  Naevius  a  play  variously  entitled  Lupus  or  Romulus 
or  Alimomum  Remi  et  Romuli,  evidently  one  of  those  dramatic  reproduc- 
tions of  scenes  in  the  life  of  a  god,  enacted  as  a  part  of  the  ceremonies  of  his 
worship.  These  are  comparable  to  similar  dramatic  representations 
among  the  Greeks  in  the  worship  of  Dionysus. 

The  Ambracia  and  the  Sabinae  of  Ennius  (239-169  B.  c.)  are  ordinarily 
classed  as  jabulae  praelextae,  although  Lucian  Miiller  classes  the  fragments 
of  the  Ambracia  among  the  Saturae  of  Ennius;  while  Vahlen  puts  the 
Ambracia  under  the  heading  Comoediarum  et  celerorum  carminum  reliquiae, 
and  classifies  the  fragments  of  the  Sabinae  under  ex  incertis  saturarum 
libris.  The  Ambracia  is  evidently  called  after  the  city  of  that  name  in 
Epirus,  celebrated  for  the  long  and  remarkable  siege  which  it  sustained 
against  the  Romans  under  M.  Fulvius  Nobilior.  That  general  finally 
captured  the  city  in  189  b.  c.  If  the  piece  is  to  be  considered  as  a  play, 
it  wras,  like  the  Clastidium,  written  in  honor  of  a  Roman  general,  and 
acted  on  the  occasion  either  of  his  triumph  or  of  his  funeral. 

W7e  have  four  short  fragments  from  the  Paulus  of  Pacuvius  (220-130 
b.  a),  written  in  celebration  of  the  exploits  of  L.  Aemilius  Paulus  who 
conquered  Perseus,  king  of  Macedonia,  in  the  battle  of  Pydna,  168  B.  c. 


OCTAVIA  419 


The  fragments  of  the  plays  already  mentioned  are  too  brief  to  afford 
any  adequate  idea  of  the  character  or  content  of  the  plays.  But  in  the 
Brutus  of  Accius  (b.  170  b.  c),  which  centers  around  the  expulsion  of  the 
Tarquins  and  the  establishment  of  the  Republic,  we  have  a  larger  glimpse 
into  the  play  through  two  most  interesting  fragments  consisting  of  twelve 
iambic  trimeters  and  ten  trochaic  tetrameters,  respectively.  In  the  first, 
King  Tarquin  relates  to  his  seer  an  ill-ominous  dream  which  he  has  had; 
the  second  is  the  seer's  interpretation  of  this  dream,  pointing  to  Tarquin's 
dethronement  by  Brutus.  Other  short  fragments  give  glimpses  of  the  out- 
rage of  Lucretia  by  Sextus  at  Collatia,  and  the  scene  in  the  forum  where 
Brutus  takes  his  oath  of  office  as  first  consul.  This  play,  unlike  its  prede- 
cessors, was  not  written  at  the  time  of  the  events  which  it  portrays,  but 
may  still  be  classed  with  them,  so  far  as  its  object  is  concerned,  since  it  is 
generally  thought  to  have  been  written  in  honor  of  D.  Junius  Brutus  who 
was  consul  in  138  B.  c,  and  with  whom  the  poet  enjoyed  an  intimate 
friendship. 

Another  practrxta  of  Accius  is  preserved,  the  Deems,  of  which  eleven 
short  fragments  remain.  This  play  celebrates  the  victory  of  Quintus 
Fabius  Maximus  and  P.  Decius  Mus  over  the  Samnites  and  Gauls  at 
Sentinum  in  295  B.  c.  The  climax  of  the  play  would  be  the  self-immola- 
tion of  Decius  after  the  example  of  his  father  in  the  Latin  war  of  340  B.  c. 

In  addition  to  these  plays  of  the  Roman  dramatists  of  the  Republic,  we 
have  knowledge  of  a  few  which  date  from  later  times.  There  was  a 
historical  drama  entitled  Iter,  by  L.  Cornelius  Balbus,  who  dramatized 
the  incidents  of  a  journey  which  he  made  to  Pompey's  camp  at  Dyrrachium 
at  the  opening  of  civil  war  in  49  B.  c.  Balbus  was  under  commission  from 
Caesar  to  treat  with  the  consul,  L.  Cornelius  Lentulus,  and  other  optimates 
who  had  fled  from  Rome,  concerning  their  return  to  the  city.  The  journey 
was  a  complete  fiasco,  so  far  as  results  were  concerned;  but  the  vanity  of 
Balbus  was  so  flattered  by  his  (to  him)  important  mission  that  he  must 
needs  dramatize  his  experiences  and  present  the  play  under  his  own  direc- 
tion in  his  native  city  of  Gades. 

We  have  mention  also  of  an  Aeneas  by  Pomponius  Secundus,  and  of 
two  praetextae  by  Curiatius  Maternus,  entitled  Domitius  and  Cato. 

These  eleven  historical  plays  are,  as  we  have  seen,  for  the  most  part, 
plays  of  occasion,  and  would  be  at  best  of  but  temporary  interest,  born  of 
the  special  circumstances  which  inspired  them.  They  are  in  no  way  com- 
parable with  such  historical  dramas  on  Roman  subjects  as  Shakespeare V 
Julius  Caesar  or  Coriolauus,  whose  interest  is  for  all  times. 


4^o  Tim      Tragedies     of     S  E  N  E  C  A 

We  have  .--till  a  twelfth  play  of  this  class,  which  enjoys  the  unique  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  only  Roman  historical  drama  which  has  come  clown 
'to  us — the  Octavia.  Its  authorship  is  unknown,  although  tradition  gives 
it  a  place  among  the  tragedies  of  Seneca,  the  philosopher.  The  general 
opinion  of  modern  critics,  however,  is  against  this  tradition,  chiefly  because 
one  passage  in  the  play,  in  the  form  of  a  prophecy,  too  circumstantially 
describes  the  death  of  Nero,  which  occurred  three  years  after  the  death 
of  Seneca.  It  is  generally  agreed  that  the  play  must  have  been  written 
soon  after  the  death  of  Nero,  and  by  some  one,  possibly  Matcrnus,  who 
had  been  an  eye-witness  of  the  events,  and  who  had  been  inspired  by  his 
sympathies  for  the  unfortunate  Octavia  to  write  this  story  of  her  sufferings. 


OCTAVIA 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 
Octavia   .    .Stepsister  and  wife  of  Nero. 
Nurse   .    .    .of  Octavia. 

Poppaea  .  .  Mistress  and  afterward  wife  of  Nero. 
Ghost  oj  Agrippina  Mother  of  Nero,  slain  by  him. 
Nero      .    .    .  Emperor  of  Rome. 

Seneca   .    .    .Former  tutor  of  Nero,  and  later  one  of  his  chief  counselors. 
Prefect  oj  Roman  Soldiers. 
Messenger. 

Chorus  oj  Romans  Sympathetic  with  Octavia. 
Chorus  .    .    .Attached  to  the  interests  of  the  court. 

The  scene  is  laid  throughout  in  different  apartments  of  the  palace  of 
I  Nero,  and  is  concerned  with  the  events  of  the  year  62  A.  D. 


ACT  I 

Octavia:      Xow  doth  the  flushing  dawn  from  heaven  drive 

The  wandering  stars;  the  sun  mounts  into  sight 
.With  radiant  beams,  and  brings  the  world  once  more 
.The  light  of  day.     Up,  then,  my  heavy  soul, 

With  grievous  cares  o'erburdened,  and  resume  5 

Thy  woe;  out-wail  the  sea -bred  Halcyons, 

And  those  sad  birds  of  old  Pandion's  house; 

For  this  thy  lot  is  heavier  far  than  theirs. 

O  mother,  constant  source  of  tears  to  me,  10 

Hear  now  thy  woeful  daughter's  sad  complaints, 

If  aught  of  sense  remains  among  the  shades. 

Oh,  that  the  grizzly  Clotho  long  ago, 

With  her  own  hand  had  dipt  my  thread  of  life!  15 

Through  blinding  tears  I  saw  thy  bleeding  wounds, 

Thy  features  sprinkled  with  defiling  blood. 

Oh,  light  of  day,  abhorrent  to  my  eyes! 

From  that  dread  hour  I  hate  the  day's  pure  light  20 

More  than  the  night's  dark  gloom;  for  daily  now 

Must  I  endure  a  cruel  stepdame's  rule, 

Must  daily  bear  her  hateful  looks  and  words. 

She,  she  the  baleful  fury  fiend  it  was 

Who  at  my  marriage  rites  bore  torches  lit  25 

With  hellish  fires;  'twas  she  who  wrought  thy  death, 

O  wretched  father,  whom  but  yesterday 

The  whole  world  owned  as  lord  on  land  and  sea; 

To  whom  the  Britain  bowed,  though  ne'er  before 

Had  he  a  Roman  master  known  or  owned.  30 

Alas,  my  father,  by  thy  wife's  fell  plots 

Thou  liest  low,  and  I  and  all  thy  house 
\  Like  captives  groan  beneath  the  tyrant's  sway. 
[Exit  in  her  chamber.] 
Nurse  [entering]:    Who  stands  in  wonder,  smitten  by  the  gloss  35 

And  splendor  of  a  princely  court,  amazed 

At  sight  of  easy -won  prosperity, 

(Let  him  behold  how,  at  the  stroke  of  fate, 


1' 


423 


424  The    Tragedies    01    Seneca 

The  bouse  of  Claudius  is  overthrown, 

To  whose  control  the  world  was  subjugate,  40 

Whose  rule  an  ocean,  long  to  sway  unknown, 

t  Ibeyed,  and  bore  our  ships  with  subject  will. 

I  .•>.  he,  who  first  the  savage  Britains  curbed, 

And  filled  an  unknown  OOSan  with  his  Beet, 

And  passed  in  safety  'mid  barbaric  tribes— r 

By  his  own  wife's  impiety  was  slain.  45 

And  she  is  destined  by  her  son  to  fall, 

Whose  hapless  brother  lies  already  slain 

By  jxnson's  hand,  whose  sister-wife  alone 
t  Is  left  to  mourn.     Nor  may  she  hide  her  grief, 

By  bitter  wrath  impelled  to  speak.     She  shuns 

Her  cruel  lord's  society,  and,  fired  50 

With  equal  hate,  with  mutual1  loathing  burns. 

Our  pious  faithfulness  in  vain  consoles 

Her  grieving  heart;  her  cruel  woes  reject 
[  Our  aid;    the  noble  passion  of  her  soul 

Will  not  be  ruled,  but  grows  on  ills  renewed. 

Alas,  my  fears  forebode  some  desperate  deed,  55 

Which  may  the  gods  forbid ! 
Octavia  [heard  speaking  from  within  her  chamber]:  O  fate  of  mine, 
that  can  no  equal  know ! 

Thy  woes,  Electra,  were  no  match  for  these; 
^For  thou  couldst  soothe  with  tears  the  grief  thou  hadst  60 

For  thy  dear  father's  fall;  thou  couldst  avenge 

The  murder  by  thy  brother's  ready  hand, 

Who  by  thy  piety  was  saved  from  death, 

And  whom  thy  faith  concealed.     But  me  base  fear 

•orbids  to  weep  my  parents  reft  away  65 

Jy  cruel  fate;  forbids  to  weep  the  death 

Of  him,  my  brother,  who  my  sole  hope  was, 

My  fleeting  comfort  of  so  many  woes. 

And  now,  surviving  but  to  suffer  still, 

I  live,  the  shadow  of  a  noble  name.  70 

Nurse:        Behold,  the  voice  of  my  sad  foster-child 

\  Falls  on  my  list'ning  ears.     Slow  steps  of  age, 

Why  haste  ye  not  within  her  chamber  there  ? 

•  Reading,  mariti  muiua. 


l; 


O  CT A VI  A 


425 


Nurse: 

Octavia: 

Nurse: 

Octaina: 

Nurse: 


Octavia: 


[Starts  to  enter  the  chamber,  but  is  met  by  Octavia  coming  jorlh.] 
Octavia:      Within  thy  bosom  let  me  weep,  dear  nurse, 

I  Thou  ever  trusty  witness  of  my  grief.  75 

What  day  shall  free  thee  from  thy  woes,  poor  child  ? 

The  day  that  sends  me  to  the  Stygian  shades. 

May  heaven  keep  such  dark  omens  far  away !  80 

^  'Tis  not  thy  prayers,  but  fate  that  shapes  my  life. 

But  God  will  brin<j  thy  life  to  better  days. 

Do  thou  but  be  appeased,  and  win  thy  lord 

With  mild  obedience.  85 

I'll  sooner  tame 
_The  savage  lion's  heart,  the  tiger's  rage, 
j  Than  curb  that  brutal  tyrant's  cruel  soul. 

He  hates  all  sons  of  noble  blood,  and  gods 

And  men  he  sets  at  naught;  nor  can  he  bear  90 

That  high  estate  to  which  along  the  paths 

Of  shameful  crime  his  impious  mother  led; 

For  though  it  shames  him  now,  ungrateful  one, 

To  hold  the  scepter  which  his  mother  gave; 

And  though  by  death  he  has  requited  her:  95 

Still  will  the  glory  of  the  empire  won 

Belong  to  her  for  centuries  to  come. 

Restrain  these  words  that  voice  thy  raging  heart, 
1  And  check  thy  tongue's  too  rash  and  thoughtless  speech. 

Though  I  should  bear  what  may  be  borne,  my  woes,  100 

Save  by  a  cruel  death,  could  not  be  ended. 
"  For,  since  my  mother  was  by  murder  slain, 

And  my  father  taken  off  by  crime  most  foul, 

Robbed  of  my  brother,  overwhelmed  with  woe, 

Oppressed  with  sadness,  by  my  husband  scorned, 

Degraded  to  the  level  of  my  slave,  105 

I  find  this  life  no  more  endurable. 

My  heart  doth  tremble,  not  with  fear  of  death, 

'But  slander  base,  employed  to  work  my  death. 

Far  from  my  name  and  fate  be  that  foul  blot. 

For  death  itself — Oh,  'twould  be  sweet  to  die; 

For  'tis  a  punishment  far  worse  than  death, 

To  live  in  contact  with  the  man  I  loathe, 

To  see  the  tyrant's  face  all  passion  puffed,  no 


Xurse: 


Octavia: 


426      The  Tragedies  or  Skneca 

And  fierce  with  rage,  to  kiss  my  deadliest  foe. 
That  I  should  fear  bis  nod,  obey  his  will, 
M\  grief,  resentful,  will  not  suffer  me, 
Since  by  his  hand  my  brother  was  destroyed, 

Whose  kingdom  he  usurps,  and  boasts  himself 
The  author  of  that  shameful  deed/    How  oft  115 

Before  my  eyes  does  that  sad  image  come, 
My  brother's  ghost,  when  I  have  gone  to  rest, 
I  And  sleep  has  closed  my  eyelids  faint  with  tears! 
Now  in  his  weakling  hand  lie  brandishes 
The  smoking  torch,  and  violently  assails 
His  brother  to  his  face;  now,  trembling  sore, 
He  flees  for  refuge  to  my  sheltering  arms.  120 

His  foe  pursues,  and,  as  his  victim  clings 
Convulsively  to  me,  he  thrusts  his  sword 
With  murderous  intent  through  both  our  sides. 
Then,  all  a-tremble,  do  I  start  awake, 
And  in  my  waking  sense  renew  my  fear. 

Add  to  these  cares  a  rival,  arrogant,  125 

Who  queens  it  in  the  spoils  of  this  our  house; 
At  whose  behest  the  mother  was  enticed 
To  that  fell  ship  which  should  have  carried  her 
To  Orcus'  depths;  but  when  o'er  ocean's  waves 
She  triumphed,  he,  than  ocean's  waves  more  harsh 
And  pitiless,  despatched  her  with  the  sword. 
Amid  such  deeds,  what  hopes  of  peace  have  I  ?  130 

O'erblown  with  hate,  triumphant,  doth  my  rival 
Within  my  very  chamber's  hold  defy  me; 
With  deadly  malice  doth  she  blaze  against  me, 
And  as  the  price  of  her  adulterous  sweets, 
Doth  she  demand  that  he,  my  husband,  give 
My  life,  his  lawful  wife's,  in  sacrifice. 
Oh,  rise  thou,  father,  from  the  gloomy  shades, 
.  And  help  thy  daughter  who  invokes  thine  aid;  135 

•)  Or  else  cleave  wide  the  earth  to  Stygian  depths, 
And  let  me  plunge  at  last  to  shelter  there. 
Nurse:        In  vain  dost  thou  invoke  thy  father's  soul, 

Poor  child,  in  vain;  for  there  among  the  shades 
He  little  thinks  upon  his  offspring  here; 


Oct  a  vi  a  427 

Who,  when  in  life,  unto  his  own  true  son 

Preferred  the  offspring  of  another's  blood,  140 

And  to  himself  in  most  incestuous  bonds 

And  rites  unhallowed  joined  his  brother's  child. 
^From  this  foul  source  beta  flowed  a  stream  of  crime: 
''Of  murder,  treachery,  the  lust  of  power, 

The  thirst  for  blood.     Thy  promised  husband  fell, 

A  victim  slain  to  grace  that  wedding  feast,  145 

Lest,  joined  with  thee,  he  should  too  mighty  grow. 

Oh,  monstrous  deed !     Silanus,  charged  with  crime, 

Was  slain  to  make  a  bridal  offering, 
^  And  stained  the  household  gods  with  guiltless  blood. 

And  then  this  alien  comes,  Oh,  woe  is  me,  150 

And  by  his  mother's  wiles  usurps  the  house, 

Made  son-indaw  and  son  to  the  emperor, 
)  A  youth  of  temper  most  unnatural, 
[To  impious  crime  inclined,  whose  passion's  flame 

His  mother  fanned,  and  forced  thee  at  the  last 

In  hated  wedlock  into  his  embrace. 

Emboldened  by  this  notable  success,  155 

She  dared  to  dream  of  wider  sovereignty. 

What  tongue  can  tell  the  changing  forms  of  crime, 

Her  impious  hopes,  her  cozening  treacheries, 

Who  seeks  the  throne  along  the  ways  of  sin  ? 

Then  Piety  with  trembling  haste  withdrew,  160 

And  Fury  through  the  empty  palace  halls 

With  baleful  tread  resounded,  and  defiled 

The  sacred  imams  with  Stygian  brands. 
.All  holy  laws  of  nature  and  of  heaven 
\n  mad  abandon  did  she  set  at  naught. 

She  mingled  deadly  poison  for  her  lord,  765 

And  she  herself  by  the  impious  mandate  fell 

Of  her  own  son.     Thou  too  dost  lifeless  lie, 

Poor  youth,  forever  to  be  mourned  by  us, 

Ill-starred  Britannicus,  so  late,  in  life. 

The  brightest  star  of  this  our  firmament, 

The  prop  and  stay  of  our  imperial  house; 

But  now,  Oh,  woe  is  me,  a  heap  of  dust, 

Of  unsubstantial  dust,  a  flitting  shade.  170 


■J-'s 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Nay,  even  thy  stepmother's  cruel  cheeks 
Were  wet  with  tears,  when  00  the  funeral  ]>vrc 
She  placed  thy  form  and  saw  the  flames  consume 
Thy  limbs  ami  face  fair  as  the  winded  god's. 

Octavia:      Me,  t<»>,  he  DQUSl  destroy — or  fall  by  me. 

Nurse:        But  nature  has  not  given  thee  strength  to  slay.  175 

Octavia:      Yet  anguish,  anger,  pain,  distress  of  soul. 
The  ecstasy  of  grief  will  give  me  strength. 

Nurse:        Nay,  by  compliance,  rather,  win  thy  lord. 

Octavia:      That  thus  he  may  restore  my  brother  slain  ? 

Xitrsc:  That  thou  thyself  mayst  go  unscathed  of  death; 
That  thou  by  thine  own  offspring  mayst  restore 
Thy  father's  falling  house.  180 

Octavia:  This  princely  house 

Expects  an  heir,  'tis  true;  but  not  from  me, 
^  For  I  am  doomed  to  meet  my  brother's  fate. 

Nurse:        Console  thy  heart  with  this,  that  thou  art  dear 
Unto  the  populace,  who  love  thee  well. 

Octavia:     iThat  thought  doth  soothe,  but  cannot  cure  my  grief. 

Xurse:        Their  power  availeth  much.  185 

Octavia:  The  prince's  more. 

Nurse:        He  will  regard  his  wife. 

Octavia:  My  foe  forbids. 

Nurse:        But  she  is  scorned  by  all. 

Octavia:  Yet  loved  by  him. 

Nurse:        She  is  not  yet  his  wife. 

Octavia:  But  soon  will  be, 

And  mother  of  his  child,  his  kingdom's  heir. 

Xurse:      }  The  fire  of  youthful  passion  glows  at  first 

With  heat  impetuous;  but  soon  abates,  190 

And  vanishes  like  flickering  tongues  of  flame. 

Unhallowed  love  cannot  for  long  endure; 

But  pure  and  lasting  is  the  love  inspired 

By  chaste  and  wifely  faith.     She  who  has  dared 

To  violate  thy  bed,  and  hold  so  long 

Thy  husband's  heart  in  thrall,  herself  a  slave, 

Already  trembles  lest  his  fickle  love  195 

Shall  thrust  her  forth  and  set  a  rival  there. 

Subdued  and  humble,  even  now  she  shows 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A  429 

I  I.iw  deep  and  real  her  fear;  for  her,  indeed, 

Shall  wingc'd  Cupid,  false  and  fickle  god, 

Abandon  and  betray.     Though  face  and  form 

Be  passing  fair,  though  beauty  vaunt  herself, 

And  boast  her  j>ower,  still  arc  her  triumphs  brief,  200 

Her  joys  a  passing  dream. 

Nay,  Juno's  self, 
Though  queen  of  heaven,  endured  such  grief  as  thine, 
When  he,  her  lord,  and  father  of  the  gods, 
Stole  from  her  side  to  seek  in  mortal  forms 
The  love  of  mortal  maids.     Now,  in  his  need,  205 

He  dons  the  snowy  plumage  of  a  swan; 
Now  horned  seems,  like  a  Sidonian  bull; 
And  now  a  glorious,  golden  shower  he  falls, 
And  rests  within  the  arms  of  Danae. 
Nor  yet  is  Juno's  sum  of  woe  complete: 
The  sons  of  Leda  glitter  in  the  sky 
In  starry  splendor;  Bacchus  proudly  stands 
Beside  his  father  on  Olympus'  height; 
j  Divine  Alcides  hath  to  Hebe's  charms  210 

i  Attained,  and  fears  stern  Juno's  wrath  no  more. 
Her  very  son-indaw  hath  he  become 
Whom  once  she  hated  most.     Yet  in  her  heart 
^Deep  down  she  pressed  her  grief,  and  wisely  won, 
By  mild  compliance  to  his  wayward  will, 

Her  husband's  love  again.     And  now  the  queen,  215 

Secure  at  last  from  rivalry,  holds  sway 
Alone,  within  the  Thunderer's  heart.     No  more, 
By  mortal  beauty  smitten,  does  he  leave 
His  royal  chambers  in  the  vaulted  sky. 

Thou,  too,  on  earth,  another  Juno  art,  220 

The  wife  and  sister  of  our  mighty  lord. 
Then  be  thou  wise  as  she,  make  show  of  love, 
And  hide  thy  crushing  sorrows  witli  a  smile. 
Octavia:      The  savage  seas  shall  sooner  mate  with  stars, 
And  fire  with  water,  heav'n  with  gloomy  hell, 
Glad  light  with  shades,  and  day  witli  dewy  night, 
Than  shall  my  soul  in  amity  consort  225 

With  his  black  heart,  most  foul  and  impious: 


4,;o  T  ii  i     T  b  \  g  i  i'  i  i".  s    or    Sen  e  c  a 

Too  mindful  I  <>f  my  poor  brother's  ghost. 

And  oh,  that  he  who  guides  the  heavenly  worlds, 

Who  shakes  the  realms  <>f  earth  with  deadly  Mts, 

Ami  with  his  dreadful  thunders  awes  our  minds, 

Would  wl  elm  in  fury  death  this  murderous  prince.  230 

Strange  portents  have  we  seen:  the  comet  dire, 

Shining  with  baleful  light,  his  glowing  train 

Far  gleaming  in  the  distant  northern  sky, 

Where  slow  Hootes,  numb  with  arctic  frosts, 

Directs  his  jxmdcrous  wagon's  endless  rounds. 

The  very  air  is  tainted  by  the  breath  235 

Of  this  destructive  prince;  and  for  his  sake 

The  stars,  resentful,  threaten  to  destroy 

The  nations  which  so  dire  a  tyrant  rules. 

Not  such  a  pest  was  impious  Typhon  huge, 

Whom  earth,  in  wrath  and  scorn  of  heaven,  produced. 

This  scourge  is  more  destructive  far  than  he.  240 

He  is  the  bitter  foe  of  gods  and  men, 

Who  drives  the  heavenly  beings  from  their  shrines, 

And  from  their  native  land  the  citizens; 

W7ho  from  his  brother  took  the  breath  of  life, 

And  drained  his  mother's  blood. 

And  does  he  live, 

This  guilty  wretch,  and  draw  his  tainted  breath  ? 

O  Jove,  thou  high -exalted  father,  why  245 

Dost  thou  so  oft  with  thine  imperial  hand 

Thy  darts  invincible  at  random  hurl  ? 

Why  from  his  guilty  head  dost  thou  withhold 

Thy  hand  of  vengeance  ?     Oh,  that  he  might  pay 

For  all  his  crimes  the  fitting  penalty, 

This  son  of  deified  Domitius, 
'This  Nero,  heartless  tyrant  of  the  world,  250 

Which  he  beneath  the  yoke  of  bondage  holds, 

This  moral  blot  upon  a  noble  name! 
Nurse:        Unworthy  he  to  be  thy  mate,  I  know; 

[But,  dearest  child,  to  fate  and  fortune  yield, 

Lest  thou  excite  thy  savage  husband's  wrath. 

Perchance  some  god  will  come  to  right  thy  wrongs,  255 

And  on  thy  life  some  happier  day  will  dawn. 


O  C  T  A  VI  A  4^1 


Octavia:      That  may  not  be.     Long  since,  our  ill-starred  house 
Has  groaned  beneath  the  heavy  wrath  of  heaven. 
That  wrath  at  first  my  hapless  mother  felt, 
Whom  Venus  cursed  with  lust  insatiate; 

For  she,  with  heedless,  impious  passion  fired,  260 

Unmindful  of  her  absent  lord,  of  us, 
Her  guiltless  children,  and  the  law's  restraints, 
In  open  day  another  husband  wed. 
To  that  fell  couch  avenging  Fury  came 
With  streaming  locks  and  serpents  intertwined, 
Ami  quenched  those  stolen  wedding  fires  in  blood. 
For  with  destructive  rage,  on  murder  bent,  265 

She  fired  the  prince's  heart;  and  at  his  word, 
Ah,  woe  is  me,  my  ill-starred  mother  fell, 
(And,  dying,  doomed  me  to  perpetual  grief. 
For  after  her  in  quick  succession  came 
Her  husband  and  her  son;  and  this  our  house, 
Already  falling,  was  to  ruin  plunged. 

Xurse:     ^Forbear  with  pious  tears  to  renew  thy  grief,  270 

1  And  do  not  so  disturb  thy  father's  shade, 
Who  for  his  rage  has  bitterly  atoned. 


Chorus  [sympathetic  with  Octavia]:  False  prove  the  rumor  that  of  late 
To  our  ears  has  come!     May  its  vaunted  threats 
Fall  fruitless  out  and  of  no  avail!  275 

May  no  new  wife  invade  the  bed 
Of  our  royal  prince;  may  Octavia,  born 
Of  the  Claudian  race,  maintain  her  right 
And  bear  us  a  son,  the  pledge  of  peace, 
In  which  the  joyful  world  shall  rest,  280 

And  Rome  preserve  her  glorious  name. 
Most  mighty  Juno  holds  the  lot 
By  fate  assigned — her  brother's  mate; 
But  this  our  Juno,  sister,  wife 

Of  our  august  prince,  why  is  she  driven  285 

From  her  father's  court  ?     Of  what  avail 
Her  faith,  her  father  deified, 
Her  love  and  spotless  chastity  ? 
We,  too,  of  our  former  master's  fame 


43a  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Have  been  unmindful,  and  his  child 

At  the  best  <>f  cringing1  fear  betrayed.  290 

Not  so  of  old:  then  Rome  could  boast 

1  >f  manly  \  irtuc,  martial  blood. 

There  lived  a  race  of  heroes  then 
Who  curbed  the  power  of  haughty  kings 
And  drove  them  forth  from  Rome;  and  thee, 
O  maiden,  slain  by  thy  father's  hand,  295 

Lest  thou  shouldst  in  slavery's  bonds  be  held, 
And  lest  foul  lust  its  victorious  will 
Should  work  on  thee,  did  well  avenge. 
Thee,  too,  a  bloody  war  avenged, 

( )  chaste  Lucretia;  for  thou,  300 

By  the  lust  of  an  impious  tyrant  stained, 
With  wretched  hand  didst  seek  to  cleanse 
Those  stains  by  thy  innocent  blood. 
Then  Tullia  with  her  guilty  lord, 
Base  Tarquin,  dared  an  impious  deed, 
Whose  penalty  they  paid;  for  she  305 

Over  the  limbs  of  her  murdered  sire, 
A  heartless  child,  drove  cruel  wheels, 
And  left  his  corpse  unburied  there. 
Such  deeds  of  dire  impiety 
Our  age  has  known,  our  eyes  have  seen, 
^When  the  prince  on  the  mighty  Tyrrhene  deep  310 

In  a  fatal  bark  his  mother  sent, 
By  guile  ensnared. 
The  sailors  at  his  bidding  haste 
To  leave  the  peaceful  harbor's  arms; 

And  soon  the  rougher  waves  resound  315 

Beneath  their  oars,  and  far  away 
Upon  the  deep  the  vessel  glides; 
When  suddenly  the  reeling  bark 
With  loosened  beams  yawns  open  wide, 
And  drinks  the  briny  sea. 

A  mighty  shout  to  heaven  goes,  320 

With  women's  lamentations  filled, 
And  death  stalks  dire  before  the  eyes 

1  Reading,  sano. 


O  C  T A  VI  A 


433 


Of  all.     Each  seeks  to  save  himself. 

Some  naked  cling  upon  the  planks 

Of  the  broken  ship  and  fight  the  floods,  325 

While  others  swimming  seek  the  shore. 


.But  most,  alas!  a  watery  death 

By  fate  awaits.    Then  did  the  queen 


In  mad  despair  her  garments  rend; 

Her  comely  locks  she  tore,  and  tears 

Fell  streaming  down  her  grieving  cheeks.  330 

At  last,  with  hope  of  safety  gone, 

With  wrath  inflamed,  by  woes  o'ercome, 
"  I  tost  thou,  O  s<>n,  make  this  return," 

She  cried,  "for  that  great  boon  I  gave? 

Such  death  I  merit,  I  confess,  335 

Who  bore  such  monstrous  child  as  thou, 

Who  gave  to  dice  the  light  of  day, 

And  in  my  madness  raised  thee  high 

To  Caesar's  name  and  Caesar's  throne. 
<|Oh,  rise  from  deepest  Acheron, 

My  murdered  husband,  feast  thine  eyes  340 

Upon  my  righteous  punishment; 

For  I  brought  death  to  thee,  poor  soul, 

And  to  thy  son.     See,  see,  I  come, 

Deep  down  to  meet  thy  grieving  shade; 

And  there,  as  I  have  merited, 

Shall  I  unburicd  lie,  o'erwhelnud  345 

By  the  raging  sea."     E'en  as  she  spoke, 

The  lapping  waves  broke  o'er  her  lips, 

And  deep  she  plunged  below.     Anon 

She  rises  from  the  briny  depths, 

d,  stung  by  bar  of  death,  she  strives 

With  frenzied  hands  to  conquer  fate; 

But,  spent  with  fruitless  toil  at  last,  350 

yields  and  waits  the  end.      But  lo, 

In  hearts  which  in  trembling  silence  watch, 

I  aith  triumphs  over  deadly  fear, 

And  to  their  mistress,  spent  and  wan 

With  fruitless  bufferings,  they  dan' 

To  lend  their  aid  with  cheering  words  355 


.»;»  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


• 


And  helping  bands. 

But  what  avails 

VTo  escape  the  grasp  of  the  savage  sea  ? 

Bj  the  sword  of  the  son  is  she  doomed  to  die, 

Whose  monstrous  <\w<\  posterity 

Will  scarce  believe.    With  rage  and  grief  360 

Inflamed,  he  raves  that  still  she  lives, 
"jHis  mother,  snatched  from  the  wild  sea's  jaws, 

And  doubles  crime  on  impious  crime. 

Bent  on  his  wretched  mother's  death, 

1  le  brooks  no  tarrying  of  fate.  365 

His  willing  creatures  work  his  will, 

And  in  the  hapless  woman's  breast 

The  fatal  sword  is  plunged;  but  she 

(To  that  fell  minister  of  death 

Appeals  with  dying  tongue:  "Nay  here, 

Here  rather  strike  the  murderous  blow, 

Here  sheathe  thy  sword,  deep  in  the  womb  370 

Which  such  a  monster  bore." 

So  spake  the  dying  queen,  her  words 

And  groans  commingling.     So  at  last 

Through  gaping  wounds  her  spirit  fled  375 

yln  grief  and  agony. 

ACT  II 

Seneca  [alone]:\Why  hast  thou,  potent  Fate,  with  flattering  looks, 
Exalted  me,  contented  with  my  lot, 
That  so  from  this  great  height  I  might  descend 
With  heavier  fall,  and  wider  prospect  see  380 

Of  deadly  fears  ?     Ah,  better  was  I,  hid 
Far  from  the  stinging  lash  of  envy's  tongue, 
Amid  the  lonely  crags  of  Corsica. 
There  was  my  spirit  free  to  act  at  will, 
Was  master  of  itself,  had  time  to  think 
And  meditate  at  length  each  favorite  theme. 
Oh,  what  delight,  than  which  none  greater  is,  385 

Of  all  that  mother  nature  hath  produced, 
To  watch  the  heavens,  the  bright  sun's  sacred  rounds, 
The  heavenly  movements  and  the  changing  night, 


O  C  T  A  V  I  a  435 


The  moon's  full  orb  with  wandering  stars  begirt, 
The  far-effulgent  glory  of  the  sky!  390 

I  And  is  it  growing  old,  this  structure  vast, 
Doomed  to  return  to  groping  nothingness? 
"Then  must  that  final  doomsday  be  at  hand, 
That  shall  by  heaven's  fall  o'erwhelm  a  race 
So  impious,  that  thus  the  world  may  see 

A  newer  race  of  men,  a  better  stock,  395 

Which  once  the  golden  reign  of  Saturn  knew. 

)Then  virgin  Justice,  holy  child  of  heaven, 
In  mercy  ruled  the  world;  the  race  of  men 
Knew  naught  of  war,  the  trumpet's  savage  blare,  400 

The  clang  of  arms;  not  yet  were  cities  hedged 
With  ponderous  walls;  the  way  was  free  to  all, 
And  free  to  all  the  use  of  everything. 

The  earth,  unfilled,  spread  wide  her  fertile  lap,  405 

The  happy  mother  of  a  pious  stock. 
Then  rose  another  race  of  sterner  mold; 
Another  yet  to  curious  arts  inclined, 
But  pious  still;  a  fourth  of  restless  mood, 
Which  lusted  to  pursue  the  savage  beasts,  410 

To  draw  the  fishes  from  their  sheltering  waves 
With  net  or  slender  pole,  to  snare  the  birds, 
To  force  the  headstrong  bullocks  to  endure 
The  bondage  of  the  yoke,  to  plow  the  earth 
vW'hich  never  yet  had  felt  the  share's  deep  wound, 
[And  which  in  pain  and  grief  now  hid  her  fruits 
Within  her  sacred  bosom's  safer  hold.  415 

Now  deep  within  the  bowels  of  the  earth 
Did  that  debased,  unfilial  age  intrude; 
And  thence  it  dug  the  deadly  iron  and  gold, 
And  soon  it  armed  its  savage  hands  for  war. 
It  fixed  the  bounds  of  realms,  constructed  towns,  420 

Fought  for  its  own  abodes,  or  threat'ning  strove 
To  plunder  those  of  1  thcrs  as  a  prize. 
Then  did  abandoned  Justice,  heavenly  maid, 
In  terror  flee  the  earth,  the  bestial  ways 
Of  men,  their  hands  with  bloody  slaughter  stained, 
And,  fixed  in  heaven,  now  shines  among  the  stars.  425 


436 


The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 


" 


Nero  [to 


Prefect: 


Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
Nero: 
Seneca: 
>\t.'?Nero: 
Seneca: 


Then  lust  of  war  increased,  and  greed  for  gold, 
Throughout  the  world;  and  luxury  arose, 

That  deadliest  of  evils,  luring  pest, 

To  whose  fell  |x>\\rrs  new  strength  and  force  were  given 

By  custom  long  observed,  and  precedent 

( >f  evil  into  worser  evil  led. 

This  flood  of  vice,  through  many  ages  dammed,  430 

In  ours  has  hurst  its  l>ounds  and  overflowed. 

By  this  dire  age  we're  fairly  overwhelmed — 

An  age  when  crime  sits  regnant  on  the  throne, 

Impiety  stalks  raging,  unrestrained; 

Foul  lust,  with  all  unbridled  power,  is  queen, 

And  luxury  long  since  with  greedy  hands 

Has  snatched  the  boundless  riches  of  the  world,  435 

That  she  with  equal  greed  may  squander  them. 

[Enter  Nero,  followed  by  a  Prefect.] 
But  see,  with  frenzied  step  and  savage  mien, 
The  prince  approaches.     How  I  fear  his  will. 
Prefect]:  Speed  my  commands:  send  forth  a  messenger 
Who  straight  shall  bring  me  here  the  severed  heads 
Of  Plautus  and  of  Sulla. 

Good,  my  lord; 
Without  delay  I'll  speed  me  to  the  camp. 

[Exit.] 
One  should  not  rashly  judge  against  his  friends.  44° 

-Let  him  be  just  whose  heart  is  free  from  fear. 
But  mercy  is  a  sovereign  cure  for  fear. 
A  ruler's  part  is  to  destroy  his  foes. 
A  ruler's  better  part,  to  save  his  friends. 

A  mild  old  man's  advice  is  fit  for  boys.  445 

Still  more  does  hot  young  manhood  need  the  rein — 
I  deem  that  at  this  age  we're  wrise  enough. 
That  on  thy  deed  the  heavenly  gods  may  smile. 
Thou  fool,  shall  I  fear  gods  myself  can  make  ? 
Fear  this  the  more,  that  so  great  power  is  thine.  45° 

jNly  royal  fortune  grants  all  things  to  me. 
But  trust  her  cautiously;  she  may  deceive. 
A  fool  is  he  who  does  not  what  he  may. 
To  do,  not  what  he  may,  but  ought,  wins  praise. 


Oct  a vi a 


437 


Nero:  The  crowd  spurns  sluggish  men. 

Seneca:  The  hated,  slays. 

Arcro:  Yet  swords  protect  a  prince. 

Seneca:  Still  better,  faith. 

Nero:         A  Caesar  should  be  feared. 

Seneca:  I  And  more  be  loved. 

Nero:      1    But  men  must  fear. 

Seneca:  Enforced  commands  are  hard. 

Nero:  Let  them  obey  our  laws. 

Seneca:  Make  better  laws — 

Nero:  I'll  be  the  judge. 

Seneca:  Which  all  men  may  approve. 

Nero:  The  sword  shall  force  respect. 

Seneca:  May  heaven  forbid! 

Nero:  Shall  I  then  tamely  let  them  seek  my  blood, 

That  suddenly  despised  and  unavenged, 
I  may  be  taken  off  ?     Though  exiled  far, 
The  stubborn  spirits  are  not  broken  yet 
Of  Plautus  and  of  Sulla.     Still  their  rage 
Persistent  spurs  their  friends  to  seek  my  death ; 
For  still  have  they  the  people's  love  in  Rome, 
Which  ever  nourishes  the  exile's  hopes. 
Then  let  the  sword  remove  my  enemies; 
My  hateful  wife  shall  die,  and  follow  him, 
vThat  brother  whom  she  loves.     The  high  must  fall. 

Seneca:        How  fair  a  thing  it  is  to  be  the  first 

Among  great  men,  to  think  for  fatherland, 
To  spare  the  weak,  to  hold  the  hand  of  power 
From  deeds  of  blood,  to  give  wrath  time  to  think, 
jGive  rest  to  a  weary  world,  peace  to  the  age. 
This  is  the  noblest  part;  by  this  high  path 
Is  heaven  sought.     So  did  Augustus  first, 
The  father  of  his  country,  gain  the  stars, 
^\.nd  as  a  god  is  worshiped  at  the  shrines. 
Yet  he  was  long  by  adverse  fortune  tossed 
|On  land  and  sea,  in  battle's  deadly  chance, 
Until  his  father's  foes  he  recompensed. 
(But  fortune  hath  to  thee  in  peaceful  guise 
Bent  her  divinity;  with  unstained  hand 


455 


460 


465 


470 


475 


480 


438  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Hath  she  the  reins  of  government  bestowed, 

And  given  world -dominion  to  thy  nod. 

Sour  hate  is  overcome,  and  in  its  stead  485 

'  Is  filial  harmony;  the  senate,  knights, 

All  orders  yield  obedience  to  thy  will; 

For  in  the  fathers'  judgment  and  the  prayers 
■     Of  humbler  folk,  thou  art  the  arbiter 

Of  peace,  the  god  of  human  destinies, 

(  > nlained  to  rule  the  world  by  right  divine. 

Thy  country's  father  thou.     This  sacred  name  490 

Doth  suppliant  Rome  beseech  thee  to  preserve, 

And  doth  commend  her  citizens  to  thee. 
Nero:  It  is  the  gift  of  heaven  that  haughty  Rome, 

Her  people,  and  her  senate  bow  to  me, 

And  that  my  terror  doth  extort  those  prayers 

And  servile  words  from  their  unwilling  lips. 

To  save  the  citizens!  seditious  men, 

Who  ever  'gainst  their  land  and  prince  conspire,  495 

f  Puffed  up  with  pride  of  race — sheer  madness  that, 

When  all  my  enemies  one  word  of  mine 

Can  doom  to  death.     Base  Brutus  raised  his  hand 

To  slay  that  prince  from  whom  he  had  his  all; 

And  he,  who  never  'mid  the  shock  of  arms 

Had  been  o'ercome,  the  world's  great  conqueror,  500 

Who  trod,  a  very  Jove,  the  lofty  paths 

Of  honor,  he  was  slain  by  impious  hands — 

Of  citizens!    What  streams  of  blood  hath  Rome, 

So  often  rent  by  civil  strife,  beheld ! 

That  very  saint  of  thine,  Augustus'  self,  505 

Who,  as  thou  said'st  but  now,  did  merit  heaven 

By  piety — how  many  noble  men 

Did  he  destroy,  in  lusty  youth,  in  age, 
(At  home,  abroad,  when,  spurred  by  mortal  fear, 
"fThey  fled  their  household  gods  and  that  fell  sword 

Of  the  Triumvirate,  consigned  to  death 

Upon  those  mindful  tablets'  fatal  lists. 

The  grieving  parents  saw  their  severed  heads  510 

Upon  the  rostra  set,  but  dared  not  weep 

Their  hapless  sons;  the  forum  reeked  with  blood, 


O  CT A  VI  A 


439 


Seneca: 


Nero: 


Seneca: 


Nero: 


And  gore  down  all  those  rotting  faces  dripped. 
Nor  this  the  end  of  slaughter  and  of  death: 
Long  did  the  plains  of  grim  Philippi  feed 
The  ravenous  birds  and  prowling  beasts  of  prey; 
While  ships  and  men,  in  deadly  conflict  met, 
Beneath  Sicilia's  waters  were  engulfed. 
The  whole  world  trembled  with  the  shock  of  arms; 
And  now,  when  all  was  lost,  with  fleeing  ships, 
That  mighty  leader  sought  the  distant  Nile, 
Doomed  soon  himself  to  perish  there.     And  thus, 
Once  more  incestuous  Egypt  drank  the  blood 
Of  Rome's  great  captains.     Now  his  flitting  shade 
Is  hovering  there;  ^ind  there  is  civil  strife, 
So  long  and  impious,  at  last  interred. 
Now  did  the  weary  victor  sheathe  his  sword, 
All  blunted  with  the  savage  blows  he  gave, 
And  held  his  empire  with  the  rein  of  fear. 
He  lived  in  safety  'neath  the  ample  shield 
Of  loyal  guards;  and  when  his  end  was  come, 
The  pious  mandate  of  his  son  proclaimed 
Him  god,  and  at  the  temples'  sacred  shrines 
Was  he  adored.     So  shall  the  stars  expect 
My  godhead  too,  if  first  I  seize  and  slay 
■  With  .sword  relentless  all  who  bear  me  hate. 
And  on  a  worthy  offspring  found  my  house. 
But  she  will  fill  thy  house  with  noble  sons, 
rThat  heaven -born  glory  of  the  Claudian  stock, 
Who  by  the  will  of  fate  was  wed  to  thee, 
As  Juno  to  her  brother  Jove  was  given. 
A  child  of  hers  would  .stain  my  noble  line, 
For  she  herself  was  of  a  harlot  born; 
And  more — her  heart  was  never  linked  to  me. 
In  tender  years  is  faith  not  manifest, 
When  love,  by  shame  o'ercome,  conceals  its  fires. 
This  I  myself  long  trusted,  but  in  vain, 
Though  she  was  clearly  of  unloving  heart, 
And  every  look  betrayed  her  hate  of  me. 
At  length,  in  angry  grief,  I  sought  reveng 
And  I  have  now  a  worthy  wife  obtained. 


515 


520 


525 


530 


535 


540 


440 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Nero: 

Seneca 
Nero: 


Seneca: 


In  race  ami  beauty  blessed,  before  whose  charms  545 

Minerva,  Venus,  Juno — all  would  bow. 
Seneca:         But  honor,  wifely  faith,  and  modesty — 

These  should  the  husband  seek,  for  these  alone, 
£  The  priceless  treasures  of  the  heart  and  soul, 

Remain  perpetual;  but  beauty's  flower 
I  Doth  fade  and  languish  with  each  passing  day.  550 

On  her  has  heaven  all  its  charms  bestowed, 

And  fate  has  given  her  from  her  birth  to  me. 

But  love  will  fail;  do  not  too  rashly  trust. 

Shall  he  give  way,  that  tyrant  of  the  skies, 

Whom  Jove,  the  Thunderer,  cannot  remove, 

Who  lords  it  over  savage  seas,  the  realms  555 

Of  gloomy  Dis,  and  draws  the  gods  to  earth  ? 

'Tis  by  our  human  error  that  we  paint 

Love  as  a  god,  winged,  implacable, 

And  arm  his  sacred  hands  with  darts  and  bow, 

Assign  him  blazing  torches,  count  him  son 

Of  fostering  Venus  and  of  Vulcan.     Nay,  560 

SBut  love  is  of  the  heart's  compelling  power, 

A.  fond  and  cozening  passion  of  the  soul; 

Of  hot  youth  is  it  born,  and  in  the  lap 

Of  ease  and  luxury,  'midst  fortune's  joys, 

Is  fostered.     But  it  sickens  straight  and  dies 

When  you  no  longer  feed  and  fondle  it.  565 

Nero:       ( I  deem  the  primal  source  of  life  is  this, 
f'The  joy  of  love;  and  it  can  never  die, 

Since  by  sweet  love,  which  soothes  e'en  savage  breasts, 

The  human  race  is  evermore  renewed. 

This  god  shall  bear  for  me  the  wedding  torch,  570 

^And  join  me  with  Poppaea  in  his  bonds. 
Seneca:       The  people's  grief  could  scarce  endure  to  see 

That  marriage,  nor  would  piety  permit. 
Nero:  —     Shall  I  alone  avoid  what  all  may  do  ? 

Seneca:       The  state  from  loftiest  souls  expects  the  best.  575 

Nero:     V   I  fain  would  see  if,  broken  by  my  power, 

This  rashly  cherished  favor  will  not  yield. 
Seneca:        'Tis  better  calmly  to  obey  the  state. 
Nero:     —  111  fares  the  state,  when  commons  govern  kings. 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A 


441 


Seneca:    >   They  justly  chafe  who  pray  without  avail.  580 

Nero:      1   When  prayers  do  not  avail,  should  force  be  sought  ? 

Seneca:  v     Rebuffs  are  hard. 

Nero:  'Tis  wrong  to  force  a  prince. 

Seneca:        He  should  give  way. 

Nero:  Then  rumor  counts  him  forced. 

Seneca:        Rumor's  an  empty  thing. 

Nero:  But  harmful  too. 

Seneca:        She  fears  the  strong.  585 

Nero:  But  none  the  less  maligns. 

Seneca:        She  soon  can  be  o'ercome.     But  let  the  youth, 

The  faith  and  chastity  of  this  thy  wife, 

The  merits  of  her  sainted  sire  prevail 

To  turn  thee  from  thy  will. 
Nero:  Have  done  at  last, 

For  wearisome  has  thy  insistence  grown; 

One  still  may  do  what  Seneca  comdemns. 

And  I  myself  have  now  too  long  delayed  590 

The  people's  prayers  for  offspring  to  the  throne. 
^Tomorrow's  morn  her  wedding  day  shall  prove, 

Who  bears  within  her  womb  my  pledge  of  love. 
[Exeunt.] 

ACT  III 

■Ghost  of  Agrippina  [bearing  a  flaming  torch]:  Through  cloven  earth  from 
Tartarus  I  come, 
To  bring  in  bloody  hands  this  torch  of  hell 
To  light  these  cursed  rites;  with  such  dire  flames  595 

Let  this  Poppaea  wed  my  son,  which  soon 
His  mother's  grief  and  vengeful  hand  shall  turn 
To  funeral  fires.     And  ever  'mid  the  shades 
My  impious  murder  in  my  memory  dwells, 
A  heavy  weight  ujxin  my  grieving  soul 
Still  unavenged;  for,  Oh,  ingratitude 

He  gave  me  in  return  for  all  my  gifts,  600 

E'en  for  the  gift  of  empire  did  he  give 
A  murderous  ship  designed  to  work  my  death. 
I  would  have  wept  my  comrades'  plight,  and  more, 
My  son's  most  cruel  deed:  no  time  for  tears 


£ 


442  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Was  given,  but  even  higher  did  lie  heap  605 

His  sum  of  crime.     Though  I  escaped  the  sea, 
I  felt  the  keen  sword's  thrust,  and,  with  my  blood 
The  very  gods  defiling,  poured  my  soul 
In  anguish  forth.     But  even  yet  his  hate 
Was  not  appeased.     Against  my  very  name 
The  tyrant  raged;  my  merits  he  obscured;  610 

My  statues,  my  inscriptions,  honors — all, 
On  pain  of  death  he  bade  to  be  destroyed 
Throughout  the  world — that  world  my  hapless  love, 
To  my  own  direful  punishment,  had  given 
To  be  by  him,  an  untried  boy,  controlled. 
And  now  my  murdered  husband's  angry  ghost 
^  Shakes  vengeful  torches  in  my  guilty  face,  615 

Insistent,  threat'ning;  blames  his  death  on  me, 
His  murdered  son,  and  loud  demands  that  now 
The  guilty  cause  be  given  up.     Have  done: 
He  shall  be  given,  and  that  right  speedily. 
Avenging  furies  for  his  impious  head 

Are  planning  even  now  a  worthy  fate:  620 

Base  flight  and  blows,  and  fearful  sufferings, 
By  which  the  raging  thirst  of  Tantalus 
He  shall  surpass;  the  cruel,  endless  toil 
Of  Sisyphus;  the  pain  that  Tityus  feels, 
And  the  dread,  racking  anguish  of  the  wheel 
On  which  Ixion's  whirling  limbs  are  stretched. 
Let  gold  and  marble  deck  his  palace  walls; 
Let  armed  guards  protect  him;  let  the  world  625 

Be  beggared  that  its  treasures  vast  may  flow 
Into  his  lap;  let  suppliant  Parthians  bend 
To  kiss  his  hands,  and  bring  rich  offerings: 
The  day  and  hour  will  come  when  for  his  crimes 
His  guilty  soul  shall  full  atonement  make,  630 

When  to  his  enemies  he  shall  be  given, 
Deserted  and  destroyed  and  stripped  of  all. 
Oh,  to  what  end  my  labors  and  my  prayers  ? 
Why  did  thy  frenzied  madness,  O  my  son, 
And  fate  impel  thee  to  such  depths  of  crime 
That  e'en  thy  mother's  wrath,  whom  thou  didst  slay,  635 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A  443 

Is  all  too  small  to  match  her  sufferings? 
Oh,  would  that,  ere  I  brought  thee  forth  to  light, 
And  suckled  thee,  my  vitals  had  been  rent 
By  savage  beasts!     Then  senseless,  innocent, 
And  mine  wouldst  thou  have  perished;  joined  to  me 
Wouldst  thou  forever  see  the  quiet  seats  640 

Of  this  abode  of  souls,  thy  mighty  sire, 
And  grandsires  too,  those  men  of  glorious  name, 
Whom  now  perpetual  shame  and  grief  await 
Because  of  thee,  thou  monster,  and  of  me. 
But  why  delay  in  hell  to  hide  my  face, 

Since  I  have  proved  a  curse  to  all  my  race  ?  645 

[Vanishes.] 
Octavia  [to  the  Chorus  in  deprecation  of  their  grief  because  of  her  divorce]: 
Restrain  your  tears;  put  on  a  face  of  joy, 
As  on  a  festal  day,  lest  this  your  love 
And  care  for  me  should  stir  the  royal  wrath, 
And  I  be  cause  of  suffering  to  you.  650 

j This  wound  is  not  the  first  my  heart  has  felt; 

Far  worse  have  I  endured;  but  all  shall  end, 

Perchance  in  death,  before  this  day  is  done. 
No  more  upon  my  brutal  husband's  face 

Shall  I  be  forced  to  look;  that  hateful  couch,  655 

Long  since  consigned  to  slavish  uses,  base, 

I  shall  behold  no  more. 

For  now  Augustus'  sister  shall  I  be, 

And  not  his  wife.     But  Oh,  be  far  from  me 

All  cruel  punishments  and  fear  of  death.  660 

Poor,  foolish  girl !  and  canst  thou  hope  for  this  ? 

Bethink  thee  of  his  former  sins — and  hope. 

Nay,  he  has  spared  thy  wretched  life  till  now, 

That  thou  mayst  at  his  marriage  altars  fall. 

But  why  so  often  turn  thy  streaming  eyes  665 

Upon  thy  home  ?     Now  speed  thy  steps  away. 

And  leave  this  bloody  prince's  hall  for  aye. 
Chorus:       Now  dawns  at  last  the  day  we  long  have  feared 

And  talked  of.     Lo,  our  Claudia,  driven  forth  670 

By  cruel  Nero's  threats,  leaves  that  alx)de 

Which  even  now  Poppaea  calls  her  own; 


444  TnE    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

While  we  must  sit  and  grieve  with  sluggish  woe, 

By  heavy  fear  oppressed.  675 

Where  is  that  Roman  people's  manhood  now, 

Which  once  the  pride  of  mighty  leaders  crushed, 

(lave  righteous  laws  to  an  unconquered  land, 

Cave  powers  at  will  to  worthy  citizens, 

Made  peace  and  war,  fierce  nations  overcame,  680 

And  held  in  dungeons  dark  their  captive  kings? 

Behold,  on  every  side  our  eyes  are  grieved 

By  this  Poppaea's  gleaming  statues  joined 

With  Nero's  images — a  shameful  sight.  685 

Come,  overturn  them  with  indignant  hands, 

Too  like  in  feature  to  her  living  face. 

And  her  we'll  drag  from  off  that  royal  couch ; 

And  then,  with  flaming  brand  and  deadly  sword, 

Attack  the  princely  palace  of  her  lord. 

ACT  rv 

Nurse  [to  Poppaea,  who  appears,  distraught,  coming  out  of  her  chamber]: 

Wrhy  dost  thou  from  thy  husband's  chamber  come,        690 
Dear  child,  with  hurried  step  and  troubled  face  ? 
vWhy  dost  thou  seek  a  lonely  place  to  weep  ? 
For  surely  has  the  day  we  long  have  sought 
With  prayers  and  promised  victims  come  at  last. 
Thou  hast  thy  Caesar,  firmly  joined  to  thee 
By  ties  of  marriage,  whom  thy  beauty  won,  695 

Whom  Venus  gave  to  thee  in  bonds  of  love, 
Though  Seneca  despised  and  flouted  her. 
How  beautiful,  upon  the  banquet  couch 
Reclining  in  the  palace,  didst  thou  seem ! 
The  senate  viewed  thy  beauty  in  amaze 

When  thou  didst  offer  incense  to  the  gods,  700 

'And  sprinkle  wine  upon  the  sacred  shrines, 
^Thy  head  the  while  with  gauzy  purple  veiled. 
And  close  beside  thee  was  thy  lord  himself; 
Amid  the  favoring  plaudits  of  the  crowd 
He  walked  majestic,  in  his  look  and  mien 
Proclaiming  all  his  pride  and  joy  in  thee.  705 

So  did  the  noble  Peleus  lead  his  bride 


O  c  t  a  v  I  A  445 

Emerging  from  the  ocean's  snowy  foam, 

Whose  wedding  feast  the  heavenly  gods  adorned, 

With  equal  joy  the  sea  divinities. 

What  sudden  cause  has  clouded  o'er  thy  face?  710 

Tell  me,  what  mean  thy  pallor  and  thy  tears! 
Poppaca:    Dear  nurse,  this  night  I  had  a  dreadful  dream; 

And  even  now,  as  I  remember  it, 

My  mind  is  troubled  and  my  senses  fail. 

For  when  the  joyful  day  had  sunk  to  rest, 

And  in  the  darkened  sky  the  stars  appeared,  715 

I  lay  asleep  within  my  Nero's  arms. 

But  that  sweet  sleep  I  could  not  long  enjoy; 

For  suddenly  a  grieving  crowd  appeared 

To  throng  my  chamber — Roman  matrons  they, 

With  hair  disheveled  and  loud  cries  of  woe.  720 

'Then  'midst  the  oft-repeated,  strident  blasts 

Of  trumpets/  there  appeared  my  husband's  mother, 

And  shook  before  my  face  with  threat'ning  mien 

A  bloody  torch.     Compelled  by  present  fear, 

I  followed  her;  when  suddenly  the  earth  725 

{  Seemed  rent  asunder  to  its  lowest  depths. 

Headlong  to  these  I  plunged,  and  even  there 

In  wonder  I  beheld  my  wedding  couch, 

Whereon  I  sank  in  utter  weariness. 

Then  with  a  throng  of  followers  I  saw 

My  son  and  former  husband  drawing  near. 

Straightway  Crispinus  hastened  to  my  arms,  730 

And  on  my  lips  his  eager  kisses  fell: 

When  suddenly  within  that  chamber  burst 

My  lord  the  king  with  frantic,  hurrying  steps, 

And  plunged  his  sword  into  that  other's  throat. 
V  A  mighty  terror  siezed  me,  and  at  last 

It  roused  me  from  my  sleep.     I  started  up 

With  trembling  limbs  and  wildly  beating  heart.  735 

Long  was  I  speechless  from  that  haunting  fear, 

Until  thy  fond  affection  gave  me  tongue. 

Why  do  the  ghosts  of  hades  threaten  me? 

Or  why  did  I  behold  my  husband's  blood  ? 
Xurse:        All  things  which  occupy  the  waking  '  mind,  740 

'  Reading,  intentus. 


446  The    Tragedies    of    S'eneca 

Some  subtle  power,  swift  working,  weaves  again 
Int. i  our  web  of  dreams.    Small  wonder  then, 
Thy  sleeping  thoughts  were  filled  with  marriage  beds 
And  husbands,  when  thy  newly  mated  lord 
Held  thee  in  his  embrace.    Does  it  seem  strange 
That  thou  shouldst  dream  tonight  of  sounds  of  woe,  745 

Of  breasts  hard  beaten  and  of  streaming  hair? 
Octavia's  departure  did  they  mourn 
Within  her  brother's  and  her  father's  house. 
The  torch  which  thou  didst  follow,  borne  aloft 
By  Agrippina's  hand,  is  but  a  sign 
That  hate  shall  win  for  thee  a  mighty  name. 
Thy  marriage  couch,  in  realms  infernal  seen,  750 

Portends  a  lasting  state  of  wedded  joy. 
Since  in  Crispinus'  neck  the  sword  was  sheathed, 
/"Believe  that  no  more  wars  thy  lord  shall  wage, 
But  hide  his  sword  within  the  breast  of  peace. 
Take  heart  again,  recall  thy  joys,  I  pray, 

|  Throw  off  thy  fears,  and  to  thy  couch  return.  755 

Poppaea:    Nay,  rather  will  I  seek  the  sacred  shrines, 
_And  there  make  sacrifice  unto  the  gods, 
^That  they  avert  these  threats  of  night  and  sleep, 
And  turn  my  terrors  all  upon  my  foes. 

Do  thou  pray  for  me  and  the  gods  implore  760 

That  in  this  happy  state  I  may  endure. 
[Exeunt  Poppaea  and  Nurse.] 
Chorus  [of  Roman  women  in  sympathy  with  Poppaea]:  If  babbling 
rumor's  tales  of  Jove, 
His  secret  joys  in  mortal  love, 
Are  true,  he  once,  in  plumage  dressed, 
Was  to  the  lovely  Leda  pressed;  765 

And  as  a  savage  bull  he  bore 
Europa  from  her  native  shore: 
But  should  he  once  thy  form,  Poppaea,  see, 
He  would  leave  his  shining  stars  to  dwell  with  thee. 

For  thou  than  Leda  many  fold  770 

Art  fairer,  or  that  maid  of  old 

Whom  Jove  embraced  in  showers  of  gold. 

Let  Sparta  boast  her  lovely  dame, 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A  447 

Who,  as  his  prize,  to  Paris  came: 

Though  Helen's  beauty  drove  the  world  to  arms,  775 

She  still  must  yield  to  our  Poppaea's  charms. 
[Enter  Messenger.] 

But  who  comes  here  with  hurried  step  and  wild? 

What  tidings  bears  he  in  his  heaving  breast? 
Messenger:  Whoever  guards  our  noble  prince's  house,  780 

Let  him  defend  it  from  the  people's  rage. 

Behold,  the  prefects  lead  their  men  in  haste, 
.  To  save  the  city  from  the  furious  mob 

Whose  reckless  passion  grows,  unchecked  by  fear. 
Chorus:     [_What  is  the  madness  that  inflames  their  hearts  ?  785 

Messenger:  The  people  for  their  loved  Octavia 

Are  wild  with  rage  and  grief;  and  now  in  throngs 

Are  rushing  forth  in  mood  for  any  deed. 
Chorus:       What  are  they  bent  to  do,  or  with  what  plan  ? 
Messenger:  To  give  Octavia  back  her  father's  house, 

Her  brother's  bed,  and  her  due  share  of  empire.  790 

Chorus:       But  these  Poppaea  holds  as  Nero's  wife. 
Messenger:  'Tis  even  she  'gainst  whom  the  people's  rage 

Burns  most  persistent,  and  to  reckless  deeds 

Is  driven  headlong  on.     Whate'er  they  see, 

Of  noble  marble  wrought,  or  gleaming  bronze, 

The  hated  image  of  Poppaea's  face,  795 

They  cast  it  to  the  earth  with  wanton  hands 

And  crushing  bars.     The  shattered  parts  they  drag 

Along  the  streets,  and  with  insulting  heel 

Deep  in  the  filthy  mud  they  trample  them. 

These  savage  deeds  are  mingled  with  such  words 

As  I  should  fear  to  utter  in  your  ears.  800 

Soon  will  they  hedge  the  royal  house  with  flames, 

Unless  the  prince  his  new-made  wife  give  up 

To  sate  the  people's  wrath,  and  then  restore 

To  noble  Claudia  her  father's  house. 

That  he  himself  may  know  these  threatened  deeds, 

I'll  haste  to  tell  him  as  the  prefect  bade.  805 

[Exit.] 
Chorus:       Why  vainly  strive  against  the  powers  above? 

For  Cupid's  weapons  are  invincible. 


448  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Your  puny  furs  by  those  fierce  flames  he'll  dim 
By  which  he  oft  has  quenched  the  bolts  of  Jove, 
And  brought  the  Thunderer  captive  from  the  sky.  810 

For  this  offense  you  shall  dire  forfeit  pay, 
E'en  with  your  blood;  for  hot  of  wrath  is  he, 
And  may  not  be  o'ercome.     At  his  command 
)  Did  fierce  Achilles  strike  the  peaceful  lyre; 
He  forced  the  Greeks  and  Agamemnon  proud  815 

To  do  his  will.     Illustrious  cities,  too, 
And  Priam's  realm  he  utterly  destroyed. 
y\nd  now  my  mind  in  fear  awaits  to  see 
What  Cupid's  cruel  penalties  will  be. 

ACT  V 

Nero  [seated  in  a  room  of  his  palace]i  Too  slow  my  soldiers'  hands,         820 
too  mild  my  wrath, 

When  citizens  have  dared  such  crimes  as  these. 

Those  torches  that  they  kindled  'gainst  their  prince 

Their  blood  shall  quench;  and  Rome,  who  bore  such  men, 

Shall  be  bespattered  with  her  people's  gore, 
j  Yet  death  is  far  too  light  a  punishment  825 

For  such  atrocities;  this  impious  mob 

Shall  suffer  worse  than  death.     But  she,  my  wife 
]  And  sister,  whom  I  hate  with  deadly  fear, 
r  For  whose  sole  sake  the  people  rage  at  me, 
]  Shall  give  her  life  at  last  to  sate  my  grief, 

And  quench  my  anger  in  her  flowing  blood.  830 

Soon  shall  my  flames  enwrap  the  city's  walls, 

And  in  the  ruins  of  her  falling  homes 
^The  people  shall  be  buried;  squalid  want, 

Dire  hunger,  grief — all  these  shall  they  endure. 

Too  fat  upon  the  blessings  of  our  age 

Has  this  vile  mob  become,  and  know  not  how  835 

To  bear  our  clemency  and  relish  peace; 
(-But,  rash  and  reckless,  are  they  ever  borne 

By  shifting  tides  of  passion  to  their  hurt. 

They  must  be  held  in  check  by  suffering, 

Be  ever  pressed  beneath  the  heavy  yoke, 

Lest  once  again  they  dare  assail  the  throne,  840 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A  449 

And  to  the  august  features  of  my  wife 

Dare  lift  again  their  vulgar  eyes.     O'erawed 

By  fear  of  punishment  must  they  be  taught 

To  yield  obedience  to  their  prince's  nod. 

But  here  I  see  the  man  whose  loyalty 

Has  made  him  captain  of  my  royal  guards.  845 

[Enter  Prefect.] 
Prefect:       The  people's  rage  by  slaughter  of  a  few, 

Who  most  resistance  made  is  overcome. 
Nero:  Is  that  enough  ?     Was  that  my  word  to  thee  ? 

\  "Is  overcome  ?"     Where  then  is  my  revenge  ? 
Prefect:       The  guilty  leaders  of  the  mob  are  dead.  850 

Nero:  Nay,  but  the  mob  itself,  which  dared  to  assail 

My  house  with  flames,  to  dictate  laws  to  me, 

To  drag  my  noble  wife  from  off  my  bed, 

And  with  unhallowed  hands  and  angry  threats 

To  affront  her  majesty — are  they  unscathed  ?  855 

Prefect:       Shall  angry  grief  decide  their  punishment  ? 
Nero:  It  shall — whose  fame  no  future  age  shall  dim. 

Prefect:     *)  Which  neither  wrath  nor  fear  shall  moderate  ?' 
Nero:  She  first  shall  feel  my  wrath  who  merits  it. 

Prefect:       Tell  whom  thou  mean'st.     My  hand  shall  spare  her  not.      860 
Nero:  My  wrath  demands  my  guilty  sister's  death. 

Prefect:        Benumbing  horror  holds  me  in  its  grasp. 
Nero:  Wilt  not  obey  my  word  ? 

Prefect:  Why  question  that  ? 

Nero:  Because  thou  spar'st  my  foe. 

Prefect:  A  woman,  foe? 

Nero:  If  she  be  criminal.  865 

Prefect:  But  what  her  crime  ? 

Nero:  The  people's  rage. 

Prefect:  But  who  can  check  their  rage? 

Nero:  The  one  who  fanned  its  flame. 

Prefect:  But  who  that  one  ? 

Nero:  A  woman  she,  to  whom  an  evil  heart 

Hath  nature  given,  a  soul  to  fraud  inclined. 
Prefect:        But  not  the  power  to  act.  870 

Nero:  That  she  may  be 

1  Reading,  quam  tempcrcl  non  ira,  etc. 


45©  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

Without  the  power  to  act,  thai  present  fear 

May  break  her  strength,  let  punishment  at  once, 

Too  long  delayed,  crush  out  her  guilty  life. 

Have  done  at  once  with  arguments  ami  prayers, 

And  do  my  royal  bidding:  let  her  sail 

To  some  far  distant  shore  and  there  be  slain,  875 

i^That  thus  at  last  my  fears  may  he  at  rest. 
[Exeunt.] 
Chorus  [attached  to  Octavia]:  Oh,  dire  and  deadly  has  the  people's  love 

To  many  proved,  which  fills  their  swelling  sails 

With  favoring  breeze,  and  bears  them  out  to  sea; 

But  soon  its  vigor  languishes  and  dies,  880 

And  leaves  them  to  the  mercy  of  the  deep. 

The  wretched  mother  of  the  Gracchi  wept 

Her  murdered  sons,  who,  though  of  noble  blood, 

Far  famed  for  eloquence  and  piety,  885 

Stout-hearted,  learned  in  defense  of  law, 

Were  brought  to  ruin  by  the  people's  love 

And  popular  renown.     And  Livius,  thee 
1  To  equal  fate  did  fickle  fortune  give, 

Who  found  no  safety  in  thy  lictors'  rods, 
^No  refuge  in  thy  home.     But  grief  forbids 

To  tell  more  instances.     This  hapless  girl,  890 

To  whom  but  now  the  citizens  decreed 

The  restoration  of  her  fatherland, 

Her  home,  her  brother's  couch,  is  dragged  away 

In  tears  and  misery  to  punishment, 

With  citizens  consenting  to  her  death !  895 

Oh,  blessed  poverty,  content  to  hide 
JBeneath  the  refuge  of  a  lowly  roof ! 

For  lofty  homes,  to  fame  and  fortune  known, 

By  storms  are  blasted  and  by  fate  o'erthrown ! 
[Enter  Octavia  in  the  custody  0}  the  palace  guards,  who  are  draggmg  her 

roughly  out  into  the  street.] 
Octavia:  S  Oh,  whither  do  ye  hurry  me  ?     What  fate 

I  Has  that  vile  tyrant  or  his  queen  ordained  ?  900 

Does  she,  subdued  and  softened  by  my  woes, 

Grant  me  to  live  in  exile  ?     Or,  if  not, 

If  she  intends  to  crown  my  sufferings 


O  C  T  A  V  I  A  45I 

With  (hath,  why  does  her  savage  heart  begrudge 

That  I  should  die  at  home?     But  now,  alas,  905 

I  can  no  longer  hope  for  life;  behold, 

My  brother's  bark,  within  whose  treacherous  hold 

His  mother  once  was  borne;  and  now  for  me, 

Poor  wretch,  his  slighted  sister-wife,  it  waits.  910 

No  more  has  right  a  place  upon  the  earth, 

Nor  heavenly  gods.     Grim  Fury  reigns  supreme. 

Oh,  who  can  fitly  weep  my  evil  plight  ? 
.  What  nightingale  has  tongue  to  sing  my  woes  ?  915 

Would  that  the  fates  would  grant  her  wings  to  me! 

Then  would  I  speed  away  on  pinions  swift, 

And  leave  my  grievous  troubles  far  behind, 

Leave  these  unholy  haunts  of  savage  men.  920 

(There,  all  alone,  within  some  forest  wide, 
\Among  the  swaying  branches  would  I  sit, 

\And  let  my  grieving  spirit  weep  its  fill. 
Chorus:     (The  race  of  men  is  by  the  fates  controlled, 

And  none  may  hope  to  make  his  own  secure;  925 

And  o'er  the  ever-shifting  ways  of  life 
(The  day  which  most  we  fear  shall  come  to  us. 

But  comfort  now  thy  heart  with  thought  of  those 

Of  thine  own  house  who  suffered  ill,  and  ask:  930 

In  what  has  fortune  been  more  harsh  to  thee? 

Thee  first  I  name,  Agrippa's  noble  child, 

The  famous  mother  of  so  many  sons, 

Great  Caesar's  wife,  whose  name  throughout  the  world        935 

In  (laming  glory  shone,  whose  teeming  womb 

Brought  forth  so  many  hostages  of  peace: 

E'en  thee  did  exile  wait,  and  cruel  chains, 

Blows,  bitter  anguish,  and  at  last  a  death  940 

Of  lingering  agony.     And  Livia,  thou, 

Though  fortunate  in  husband  and  in  sons, 

Didst  walk  the  way  of  sin     and  punishment. 
Vnd  Julia,  too,  endured  her  mother's  fate; 

For,  though  no  evil  deed  was  charged  to  her,  945 

She  fell  a  victim  to  the  sword  at  last. 

What  could  not  once  thy  mighty  mother  do 

Who  ruled  supreme  the  house  of  Claudius, 


459 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


By  him  beloved,  and  in  her  son  secure? 

Yet  she  at  last  was  subject  tX)  a  slave,  950 

And  fell  beneath  a  brutal  soldier's  sword. 

For  what  exalted  heights  of  royalty 

Might  not  our  Nero's  mother  once  have  hoped  ? 

Mishandled  first  by  vulgar  sailors'  hands,  955 

Then  slain  and  mangled  by  the  bungling  sword, 

She  lay  the  victim  of  her  cruel  son. 
Octavia:   \  Me,  too,  the  tyrant  to  the  world  of  shades 

'  Is  sending.     Why  delay  ?     Then  speed  my  death,  960 

(  For  fate  hath  made  me  subject  to  your  power. 

I  pray  the  heavenly  gods — what  wouldst  thou,  fool  ? 

I  Pray  not  to  gods  who  show  their  scorn  of  thee. 

But,  O  ye  gods  of  hell,  ye  furies  dire,  965 

Who  work  your  vengeance  on  the  crimes  of  men, 

And  thou,  my  father's  restless  spirit,  come 

And  bring  this  tyrant  fitting  punishment. 
[To  her  guards.] 

The  death  you  threaten  has  no  terrors  now 

For  me.     Go,  set  your  ship  in  readiness,  970 

Unfurl  your  sails,  and  let  your  pilot  seek 

The  barren  shores  of  Pandataria. 

[Exit  Octavia  with  guards.] 
Chorus:     <  Ye  gentle  breezes  and  ye  zephyrs  mild, 

Which  once  from  savage  Dian's  altar  bore  975 

Atrides'  daughter  in  a  cloud  concealed, 

This  child  of  ours,  Octavia  too,  we  pray, 

Bear  far  away  from  these  too  cruel  woes, 

And  set  her  in  the  fane  of  Trivia. 

For  Aulis  is  more  merciful  than  Rome, 

The  savage  Taurian  land  more  mild  than  this:  980 

There  hapless  strangers  to  their  gods  they  feed, 

But  Rome  delights  to  see  her  children  bleed. 


COMPARATIVE  ANALYSES 


COMPARATIVE   ANALYSES  OF   SENECA'S  TRAGEDIES   AND 
THE  CORRESPONDING  GREEK  DRAMAS 

The  Phoaiissae,  if,  indeed,  these  fragments  are  to  be  considered  as 
belonging  to  one  play,  has  no  direct  correspondent  in  Greek  drama; 
although,  in  the  general  situations  and  in  some  details,  it  is  similar  to 
parts  of  three  plays:  The  Seven  Against  Thebes  of  Aeschylus,  the  Oedipus 
at  CoionitS  of  Sophocles,  and  the  Phoenician  Damsels  of  Euripides.  The 
Thyesks  is  without  a  parallel  in  extant  Greek  drama;  and  the  Octavia, 

of  Course,   gt^nr|g  nlone . 

The  other  seven  tragedies  attributed  by  tradition  to  Seneca,  together 
with  their  Greek  correspondents,  are  here  presented  in  comparative  analyses 
in  order  that  the  reader  may  be  enabled  easily  to  compare,  at  least  so  far 
as  subject-matter  and  dramatic  structure  are  concerned,  the  Roman 
tragedies  and  their  Greek  originals. 

Although  the  traditional  division  into  acts  is  followed  in  the  English 
version  of  the  several  plays,  it  seems  wise  in  these  comparisons  to  give 
the  more  minute  division  into  prologue,  episodes,  and  choral  interludes. 

THE   OEDIPUS  OF  SOPHOCLES,   AND   THE   OEDIPUS  OF 

SENECA 


Prologue. — Dialogue  between  Oedi- 
pus and  the  priest  of  Zeus, who  discloses 
the  present  plague-smitten  condition 
of  the  people,  and  prays  the  king  for 
aid  since  he  is  so  wise.  The  fatherly 
regard  of  Oedipus  for  his  people,  in 
that  he  has  already  sent  a  messenger 
to  ask  the  aid  of  the  oracle,  is  por- 
trayed. 

The  answer  of  the  oracle:  first  ref- 
erence to  an  unexpiated  sin.  Short 
question  and  answer  between  Oedipus 
and  Creon,  the  messenger,  bringing 
out  the  facts  of  Laius'  death. 

The  irony  of  fate:  Oedipus  pro- 
poses, partly  in  his  own  interest,  to 
seek  out  the  murderer.  As  yet  there 
is  no  foreshadowing  of  evil  in  the  king's 


Prologue. — In  the  early  morning 
Oedipus  is  seen  lamenting  the  plague- 
smitten  condition  of  his  people.  He 
narrates  how  he  had  fled  from  Corinth 
to  avoid  the  fulfilment  of  a  dreadful 
oracle,  that  he  should  kill  his  father 
and  wed  his  mother.  Even  here  be 
cannot  feel  safe,  but  still  fears  some 
dreadful  fate  that  seems  threatening. 
He  describes  with  minute  detail  the 
terrors  of  the  pestilence  which  has 
smitten  man  and  bea>t  and  even  the 
vegetable  world.  He  prays  for  death 
that  he  may  not  survive  his  Btri<  ken 
people.  Jocasta  remonstrates  with 
him  for  his  despair  and  reminds  him 
that  it  is  a  king's  duty  to  bear 
reverses  with  checrfuness. 


455 


456 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


mind.  At  the  <"<\  of  the  prologue  <  >cdi- 
|>us  remains  alone  upon  the  stage. 

Parade,  or  chorus  entry.  Thci  horns 
enlarges  upon  the  distresses  <>f  the 
dry,  and  appeals  to  tin-  gods  for  aid. 


First  episode. — The  curse  of  Oedi- 
pus upon  the  unknown  murderer 
is  pronounced,  and  the  charge  is  made 
by  Tiresias  (who  long  refuses  to  speak 
but  is  forced  to  do  so  by  Oedipus), 
"Thou  art  the  man."  Oedipus' 
explanation  of  Tiresias'  charge;  it  is 
a  plot  between  the  latter  and  Crcon. 
The  facts  of  Oedipus'  birth  are  hinted 
at.  Tiresias  prophesies  the  after-life 
of  the  king,  with  the  name  but  thinly 
veiled. 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
reflects  upon  the  oracle  and  the  certain 
discovery    of    the    guilty   one.     Ideal 


Parade,  or  chorus  entry.      The  (horns 

appeals  to  Bacchus,  relating  how  the 
descendants  of  his  old  Theban  com 
rades  are  perishing.     It  enlarges  upon 
the  distresses  of  the  city,  and  deplores 

the  violence  of  the  plague.    The  suf- 
ferings of  the  people  are  described  in 

minute  detail. 

First  episode. — Creon,  returned 
from  the  consultation  of  the  oracle  at 
Delphi,  announces  that  the  plague  is 
caused  by  the  unatoned  murder  of 
Lai'us,  former  king  of  Thebes.  Oedi- 
pus anxiously  inquires  who  the  mur- 
derer is,  but  is  told  that  this  is  still  a 
mystery.  Creon  describes  the  scene 
at  Delphi  in  the  giving  of  the  oracle. 
Oedipus  declares  himself  eager  to 
hunt  out  the  murderer  and  inquires 
why  the  matter  has  been  left  so  long 
uninvestigated.  He  is  told  that  the 
terrors  of  the  Sphinx  had  driven  all 
other  thoughts  out  of  the  people's 
mind. 

The  irony  of  fate:  Oedipus  pro- 
nounces a  dreadful  curse  upon  the 
murderer  of  Lai'us  and  vows  not  to 
rest  until  he  finds  him.  He  inquires 
where  the  murder  took  place  and 
how.  At  this  moment  the  blind  old 
Tiresias  enters,  led  by  his  daughter, 
Manto.  Tiresias  tries  by  the  arts  of 
divination  (which  are  described  with 
the  greatest  elaboration)  to  ascertain 
the  name  of  the  murderer,  but  with- 
out avail;  and  says  that  recourse 
must  be  had  to  necromancy,  or  the 
raising  of  the  dead. 

First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sings  a  dithyrambic  strain  in  praise  of 
the  wonderful  works  of  Bacchus.     No 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


457 


picture  of  the  flight  of  the  murderer. 
While  troubled  by  the  charge  of  Tire- 
sias,  the  chorus  still  refuses  to  give  it 
credence.  After  all,  the  seer  is  only 
a  man  and  liable  to  be  mistaken. 
Oedipus  has  shown  himself  a  wiser 
man  by  solving  the  riddle  of  the 
Sphinx. 

Second  episode. — Quarrel  of  Oedi- 
pus and  Creon  based  upon  the  charges 
of  the  former.  Oedipus'  argument: 
The  deed  was  done  long  ago,  and 
Tiresias,  though  then  also  a  seer,  made 
no  charge.  Now,  when  forced  by  the 
recent  oracle,  the  seer  comes  forward 
with  Creon.  This  looks  like  a  con- 
spiracy. Creon  pleads  for  a  fair  and 
complete  investigation.  Jocasta  tries 
to  reconcile  the  two,  but  in  vain,  and 
Creon  is  driven  out.  Jocasta  relates 
the  circumstances  of  Laius'  death, 
which  tally  in  all  details  but  one  with 
the  death  of  one  slain  by  Oedipus.  A 
terrible  conclusion  begins  to  dawn 
upon  the  king.  He  tells  his  queen 
the  story  of  his  life  and  the  dreadful 
oracle,  the  fear  of  the  fulfilment  of 
which  drove  him  from  Corinth.  At 
the  end  of  this  episode  the  death  of 
Laius  at  the  hands  of  Oedipus  is  all 
but  proved,  but  the  relation  between 
the  two  is  not  yet  hinted  at. 

Second  choral  interlude. — Prayer  for 
a  life  in  accordance  with  the  will  of 
heaven.  Under  the  shadow  of  im- 
pending ill,  the  chorus  seeks  the  aid 
of  God,  meditates  upon  the  doom  of 
the  unrighteous,  and  considers  the 
seeming  fallibility  of  the  oracle. 

Third  episode. — A  messenger  from 
Corinth  brings  the  news  of  Polybus' 
death,  the  supposed  father  of  Oedipus. 
The  irony  of  fate:   the  king  is  lifted 


reference    is    made    to    the    tragedy 
which  is  in  progress. 


Second  episode. — Creon  returns  from 
the  rites  of  necromancy  in  which  he 
had  accompanied  Tiresias,  and  strives 
to  avoid  telling  the  result  of  the  inves- 
tigation to  the  king.  Being  at  last 
forced  to  reveal  all  that  he  knows,  he 
describes  with  great  vividness  of 
detail  how  Tiresias  has  summoned 
up  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  among 
them  Laius.  The  latter  declares 
that  Oedipus  himself  is  the  murderer, 
having  slain  his  father  and  married 
his  mother.  Oedipus,  strong  in  the 
belief  that  Polybus  and  Meropc  of 
Corinth  are  his  parents,  denies  the 
charge,  and  after  a  hot  dispute  orders 
Creon  to  be  cast  into  prison,  on  sus- 
picion of  a  conspiracy  with  Tiresias 
to  deprive  Oedipus  of  the  scepter. 


Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus refuses  to  believe  the  charge 
against  Oedipus,  but  lays  the  blame 
of  all  these  ills  upon  the  evil  fate  of 
Thebes  which  has  pursued  the  The- 
bans  from  the  first. 

Third  episode. — Oedipus,  remem- 
bering that  he  had  slain  a  man  on  his 
way  to  Thebes,  questions  Jocasta 
more  closely  as  to  the  circumstances 


458 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


up  with  joy  that  now  the  oracle  cannot 
be  fulfilled  that  he  should  kill  his  own 
father.  Step  by  step  the  details  of 
the  king's  infancy  come  out,  which 
reveal  the  awful  truth  to  Jocasta.  To 
Oedipus  the  only  result  of  the  present 
revelation  is  that  he  is  probably  base- 
born.  Jocasta  tries  to  deter  Oedipus 
from  further  investigation. 

Strophe  and  antistrophe. — A  partial 
interlude,  while  they  wait  for  the  shep- 
herd who  is  to  furnish  the  last  link  in 
the  chain  of  evidence.  The  chorus 
conjectures  as  to  the  wonderful  birth 
of  Oedipus;  possibly  his  father  is  Pan, 
or  Apollo,  or  Mercury,  or  Bacchus. 

The  shepherd,  arriving,  also  seeks 
to  keep  the  dreadful  truth  from  the 
king,  but  a  second  time  the  passion  of 
Oedipus  forces  the  truth  from  an 
unwilling  witness.  At  last  the  whole 
story  comes  out,  and  Oedipus  realizes 
that  he  has  slain  his  father  and  wed 
his  mother. 


Third  choral  interlude. — The  utter 
nothingness  of  human  life,  judged  by 
the  fate  of  Oedipus,  who  above  all 
men  was  successful,  wise,  and  good. 
It  is  inscrutable;  why  should  such  a 
fate  come  to  him  ?  The  chorus 
laments  the  doom  of  the  king  as  its 
own. 

Exode. — The  catastrophe  in  its  final 
manifestations.  A  messenger  de- 
scribes the  lamentations  and  suicide 
of  Jocasta,  the  despair  of  Oedipus,  and 


of  Lalus'  death,  and  finding  these 
circumstances  to  tally  with  his  own 
experience,  is  convinced  that  he  was 
indeed  the  slayer  of  Lalus. 

At    this    point    a    messenger    from 
Corinth,  an  old  man,  announces  to 
Oedipus   the   death   of  Polybus,   the 
king   of   Corinth,    and   the   supposed 
father  of  Oedipus.     The  latter  is  sum- 
moned to  the  empty  throne  of  Corinth. 
A  quick  succession  of  questions  and 
answers  brings  to  light  the  fact  that 
Oedipus    is    not   the  child   of    Poly- 
bus and  Merope,  but  that  the  mes- 
senger himself  had  given  him  when 
an    infant    to    the    Corinthian    pair. 
This     announcement     removes     the 
chief  support  of  Oedipus  against  the 
charges  of  Tiresias,  and  now  he  rushes 
blindly  on  to  know  the  rest  of  the 
fatal   truth.     The   shepherd   is   sum- 
moned who  had  given  the  baby  to 
the    old    Corinthian.     He    strives    to 
avoid  answering,  but,  driven  on  by  the 
threats  of  Oedipus,  he  at  last  states 
that  he  had  received  the  child  from 
the  royal  household  of  Thebes,  and 
that  it  was  in  fact  the  son  of  Jocasta. 
At    this    last    and    awful    disclosure, 
Oedipus  goes  off  the  stage  in  a  fit  of 
raving    madness. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
reflects  upon  the  dangerous  position 
of  the  man  who  is  unduly  exalted,  and 
illustrates  this  principle  by  the  case  of 
Icarus. 


Exode. — Although  there  is  a  short 
chorus  interjected  here  (fines  980-97) 
on  the  inevitableness  of  fate,  all  the 
remainder  of  the  play  is  really  the 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


459 


the  wild  mood  in  which  he  inflicts 
blindness  upon  himself.  He  comes 
upon  the  stage  piteously  wailing  and 
groping  his  way.  He  prays  for  death 
or  banishment  at  the  hands  of  Creon, 
who  is  now  king.  He  takes  a  tender 
farewell  of  his  daughters  and  consigns 
them  to  Creon's  care. 

The  play  ends  with  the  solemn 
warning  of  the  chorus  "to  reckon  no 
man  happy  till  ye  witness  the  closing 
day;  until  he  pass  the  border  which 
severs  life  from  death,  unscathed  by 
sorrow." 


exode,  showing  the  catastrophe  in  its 
final  manifestation.  A  messenger 
describes  with  horrible  minuteness 
how  Oedipus  in  his  ravings  has  dug 
out  his  eyes.  At  this  point  Oedipus 
himself  comes  upon  the  stage,  rejoic- 
ing in  his  blindness,  since  now  he  can 
never  look  upon  his  shame.  And 
now  Jocasta  appears,  having  heard 
strange  rumors.  On  learning  the 
whole  truth,  she  slays  herself  on  the 
stage  with  Oedipus'  sword.  The  play 
ends  as  the  blind  old  king  goes  grop- 
ing his  way  out  into  darkness  and 
exile. 


THE  MEDEA  OF  EURIPIDES,  AND  THE  MEDEA  OF  SENECA 


Prologue. — The  old  nurse  of  Medea, 
alone  upon  the  stage,  laments  that 
the  Argo  was  ever  framed  and  that 
Medea  had  ever  fled  from  Colchis. 
Then  had  she  never  been  here  in 
Corinth  an  exile  and  now  deserted 
even  by  her  husband,  Jason.  In 
describing  Medea's  distracted  condi- 
tion, the  nurse  first  voices  the  fear  of 
that  violence  which  forms  the  catas- 
trophe of  the  play.  Enter  an  old 
attendant  with  the  two  sons  of  Medea, 
who  announces  a  new  woe — that 
Creon,  the  king,  has  decreed  the  ban- 
ishment of  Medea  and  her  children. 
The  nurse  repeats  her  warning  note, 
and  urges  the  attendant  to  keep  the 
children  out  of  the  sight  of  their 
mother,  who  even  now  can  be  heard 
raving  within,  and  vowing  the  destruc- 
tion of  her  children  and  her  husband. 
The  attendant  retires  with  the  chil- 
dren. 

Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  chorus 
of   Corinthian    women   comes  to   the 


Prologue. — Medea,  finding  herself 
deserted  by  Jason,  calls  upon  gods  and 
furies  to  grant  her  vengeance.  She 
prays  for  destruction  to  light  upon  her 
rival,  and  imprecates  curses  upon 
Jason.  She  thinks  it  monstrous  that 
the  sun  can  still  hold  on  his  way,  and 
prays  for  power  to  subvert  the  whole 
course  of  nature.  She  finally  realizes 
that  she  is  impotent  save  as  she  has 
recourse  to  her  old  sorceries  which  she 
has  long  since  laid  aside,  and  resolves 
upon  them  as  a  means  of  revenge. 


Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — A  chorus 
of  Corinthians  chants  an  epithalamium 


4(>o 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


front  of  the  palace  to  inquire  the 
cause  of  Medea's  cries,  which  they 
have  beard,  and  to  profess  their 
attachment  to  her.  From  time  to 
time  Medea's  voice  can  be  heard  from 
within  as  she  prays  for  death  and 
imprecates  curses  upon  Jason.  The 
nurse  at  the  suggestion  of  the  chorus 
undertakes  to  induce  her  mistress  to 
come  forth,  that  converse  with  her 
friends  may  soothe  her  grief.  The 
nurse  goes  within,  leaving  the  chorus 
alone  upon  the  stage. 

First  episode. — Medea  comes  forth 
from  the  palace  to  explain  to  the 
chorus  her  position  and  unhappy 
condition.  She  deplores  the  lot  of 
women  in  general,  and  especially  in 
relation  to  marriage,  and  enlists  the 
sympathy  of  the  chorus  in  her  attempt 
to  secure  some  revenge  for  her  wrongs. 
They  confess  the  justice  of  her  cause 
and  promise  to  keep  her  secret. 

Creon  announces  to  Medea  that 
she  must  leave  his  realm  at  once,  for 
much  he  fears  that  she  will  take  her 
revenge  upon  him  and  upon  his  house. 
She  pleads  for  grace,  and  bewails  her 
reputation  for  magic  power;  she 
assures  the  king  that  he  has  nothing 
to  fear  from  her,  and  affects  com- 
pliance with  all  that  has  taken  place. 
Creon,  while  still  protesting  that  she 
cannot  be  trusted,  yields  in  so  far 
that  he  grants  her  a  single  day's 
delay. 

Medea  tells  the  chorus  that  her 
recent  compliance  was  only  feigned, 
and  openly  announces  her  intention 
before  the  day  is  done  of  slaying 
Creon,  his  daughter,  and  Jason.  She 
debates  the  various  methods  by  which 
this     may     be     accomplished,     and 


for  the  nuptials  of  Jason  and  Creiisa 
First,  in  Asclepiadean  strains,  they 
invoke  the  gods  to  be  present  and  bless 
the  nuptials.  The  strain  then  changes 
to  quick,  joyful  Glyconks  in  praise  of 
the  surpassing  beauty  of  the  married 
pair.  Changing  back  to  Asclcpiads, 
the  chorus  continues  in  extravagant 
praise  of  Jason  and  his  bride,  con- 
gratulates him  on  his  exchange  from 
Medea  to  Creiisa,  and  finally,  in  six 
lines  of  hexameter,  exults  in  the  license 
of  the  hour. 

First  episode. — Hearing  the  epitha- 
lamium,  Medea  goes  into  a  passion  of 
rage.  She  recounts  all  that  she  has 
done  for  Jason,  and  exclaims  against 
his  ingratitude.  Again,  with  shifting 
feelings  she  pleads  Jason's  cause  to 
herself  and  strives  to  excuse  him,  blam- 
ing all  upon  Creon.  Upon  him  she 
vows  the  direst  vengeance.  Mean- 
while the  nurse  in  vain  urges  prudence. 

Creon  now  enters,  manifesting  in 
his  words  a  fear  of  Medea,  and  bent 
upon  her  immediate  banishment. 
Medea  pleads  her  innocence,  and  begs 
to  know  the  reason  for  her  exile.  She 
reviews  at  length  her  former  regal 
estate  and  contrasts  with  this  her 
present  forlorn  condition.  She  claims 
the  credit  for  the  preservation  of  all 
the  Argonautic  heroes.  Upon  this 
ground  she  claims  that  Jason  is  hers. 
She  begs  of  Creon  some  small  corner 
in  his  kingdom  for  her  dwelling,  but 
the  king  remains  obdurate.  She  then 
prays  for  a  single  day's  delay  in  which 
to  say  farewell  to  her  children,  who  are 
to  remain,  the  wards  of  the  king.  This 
prayer  Creon  reluctantly  grants. 


Seneca  and  the  Greek  Dramas   461 


decides,  for  her  own  greater  safety, 
upon  the  help  of  magic. 

i'irst  choral  interlude. — -The  course 
of  nature  is  subverted.  No  longer 
let  woman  alone  have  the  reputation 
for  falsehood;  man's  insincerity  equals 
hers.  In  poetry  the  fickleness  of  both 
should  be  sung,  just  as  in  history  it  is 
seen.  Though  Medea,  for  her  love  of 
Jason,  left  her  native  land  and  braved 
all  the  terrors  of  the  deep,  she  is  now 
left  all  forsaken  and  alone.  Verily 
truth  and  honor  have  departed  from 
the  earth. 


Second  episode. — Jason  reproaches 
Medea  for  her  intemperate  speech 
against  the  king,  which  has  resulted 
in  her  banishment,  and  shows  her 
that  he  is  still  concerned  for  her  inter- 
ests. She  retorts  with  reproaches 
because  of  his  ingratitude,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  recount  all  that  she  had  done 
for  him  and  given  up  in  his  behalf. 
Jason  replies  that  it  was  not  through 
her  help  but  that  of  Venus  that  he  had 
escaped  all  the  perils  of  the  past,  and 
reminds  her  of  the  advantages  which 
she  herself  had  gained  by  leaving  her 
barbarous  land  for  Greece.  He  even 
holds  that  his  marriage  into  the  royal 
family  of  Corinth  is  in  her  interest 
and  that  of  her  children,  since  by 
this  means  their  common  fortunes 
will  be  mended.  He  offers  her  from 
his  new  resources  assistance  for  her 
exile,  which  she  indignantly  refuses, 
and  Jason  retires  from  her  bitter 
taunts. 


First  choral  interlude. — Apropos  of 
Medea's  reference  to  the  Argonautic 
heroes  the  chorus  sings  of  the  dangers 
which  those  first  voyagers  upon  the 
sea  endured;  how  the  natural  bounds 
which  the  gods  set  to  separate  t In- 
lands have  now  been  removed — and 
all  this  for  gold  and  this  barbarian 
woman.  (The  chorus  is  nowhere 
friendly  to  Medea,  as  in  Euripides.) 
The  ode  ends  with  a  prophecy  of  the 
time  when  all  the  earth  shall  be  re- 
vealed, and  there  shall  be  no  "  Ultima 
Thule." 

Second  episode. — Medea  is  rushing 
out  to  seek  vengeance,  while  the  nurse 
tries  in  vain  to  restrain  her.  The 
nurse  soliloquizes,  describing  the  wild 
frenzy  of  her  mistress,  and  expressing 
grave  fears  for  the  result.  Medea,  not 
noticing  the  nurse's  presence,  refta  ts 
upon  the  day  that  has  been  granted 
her  by  Creon,  and  VOWS  that  her  ter- 
rible vengeance  shall  be  commensurate 
with  her  sufferings.  She  rushes  off 
the  stage,  while  the  nurse  calls  after 
her  a  last  warning. 

Jason  now  enters,  lamenting  the 
difficult  position  in  which  hi-  finds 
himself.     He  that  it  is  for  his 

children's  sake  that   he  has  done  all, 

and  hopes  to  be  able  to  persuade  Me- 
dea herself  to  take  this  view.  Me. lea 
comes  back,  and  at  sight  of  Jason  her 
fury  is  still  further  inflamed.  She 
announces  her  intended  flight.  Hut 
whither  shall  she  Bee?  For  his  sake 
she  has  closed  all  lands  against  her- 
self. In  bit;  ism  she  accepts 
all  these  sufferings  as  her  just  punish- 
ment.    Then  in  a  flash  of  fury  she 


l6a 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus prays  to  be  delivered  from  the  pangs 
of  immoderate  love  and  jealousy,  from 
exile,  and  the  ingratitude  of  friends. 


Third  episode. — Aegeus,  in  Corinth 
by  accident,  recognizes  Medea,  and 
learns  from  her  her  present  grievous 
condition  and  imminent  exile.  She 
begs  that  he  receive  her  into  his  king- 
dom as  a  friend  under  his  protection. 


recalls  all  her  services  to  him  and  con- 
trasts his  ingratitude.  She  shifts 
suddenly  to  passionate  entreaty,  and 
prays  him  to  pity  her,  to  give  back  all 
i  hit  she  gave  up  for  him,  if  she  must 
needs  Bee;  she  begs  him  to  brave  the 
wrath  of  Creon  and  flee  with  her,  and 
promises  him  her  protection  as  of  old. 
In  a  long  scries  of  quick,  short  passages 
they  shift  from  phase  to  phase  of 
feeling,  and  finally  Medea  prays  that 
in  her  flight  she  may  have  her  children 
as  her  comrades.  Jason's  refusal 
shows  how  deeply  he  loves  his  sons, 
and  here  is  suggested  to  Medea  for 
the  first  time  the  method  of  her  direst 
revenge.  Jason  now  yields  to  her 
assumed  penitence  and  grants  her  the 
custody  of  the  children  for  this  day 
alone.  When  Jason  has  withdrawn, 
she  bids  the  nurse  prepare  the  fatal 
robe  which  she  proposes  to  send  to  her 
rival  by  the  hands  of  her  children. 

Second  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
opens  on  the  text,  "Hell  hath  no  fury 
like  a  woman  scorned,"  and  continues 
with  a  prayer  for  Jason's  safety.  It 
then  recounts  the  subsequent  history 
of  the  individual  Argonauts,  showing 
how  almost  all  came  to  some  untimely 
end.  They  might  indeed  be  said  to 
deserve  this  fate,  for  they  volunteered 
to  assist  in  that  first  impious  voyage 
in  quest  of  the  golden  fleece;  but  Jason 
should  be  spared  the  general  doom, 
for  the  task  had  been  imposed  upon 
him  by  his  usurping  uncle,  Pelias. 

Third  episode. — The  nurse  in  a  long 
monologue  recites  Medea's  magic 
wonders  of  the  past,  and  all  her  present 
preparations.  Then  Medea's  voice  is 
heard,  and  presently  she  comes  upon 
the  stage  chanting  her  incantations. 


Seneca  and  the  Greek  Dramas 


463 


This  he  promises  with  a  mighty  oath 
to  do. 

Medea,  left  alone  with  the  chorus, 
explains  to  it  still  more  in  detail  her 
plans.  She  will  send  her  sons  with 
gifts  to  the  new  bride,  which,  by  their 
magic  power,  will  destroy  her  and  all 
who  touch  her.  She  adds  that  she 
will  also  slay  her  two  sons,  the  more 
to  injure  Jason.  The  chorus,  while 
protesting  against  this  last  proposal, 
offers  no  resistance. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus, 
dwelling  upon  Medea's  proposed 
place  of  refuge,  sings  the  praises  of 
Athens,  sacred  to  the  Muses.  It 
contrasts  with  this  holy  city  the  dread- 
ful deed  which  Medea  intends,  and 
again  vainly  strives  to  dissuade  her. 

Fourth  episode. — Medea,  sending 
for  Jason,  with  feigned  humility 
reproaches  herself  for  her  for  hut 
intemperate  words  to  him,  and  begs 
only  that  he  use  his  influence  for  the 
reprieve  of  their  children  from  exile. 
To  assist  him  in  this,  she  proposes  to 
send  the  children  themselves,  bearing 
a  gorgeous  robe  of  golden  tissue 
(which  she  has  anointed  with  magic 
poison)  as  a  wedding  present  to  the 
bride.  Upon  this  errand  Jason  retires 
attended  by  his  little  sons. 

Fourth  choral  interlude.— -The  cho- 
rus, with  full  knowledge  of  the  fatal 
robe,  pictures  the  delight  of  the  bride 
at  its  reception,  and  laments  her  fear- 
ful doom. 

Fifth  episode. — This  episode  is  in 
four  parts. 

The  attendant  returns  with  the 
children    and    announces    to    Medea 


She  summons  up  the  gods  of  Tartara 
to  aid  her  task;  recounts  all  the 
wonders  which  her  charms  can  work; 
describes  her  store  of  magic  fires  and 
other  potent  objects.  Then  breaking 
into  quicker  measure,  as  if  filled  with 
a  fuller  frenzy,  she  continues  her  in- 
cantations accompanied  by  wild  cries 
and  gestures.  She  finally  dispatches 
her  sons  to  Jason's  bride  with  the  robe 
she  has  anointed  with  her  magic  drugs 
and  charged  with  her  curses.  She 
hastens  out  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
notes  and  describes  Medea's  wild 
bearing,  and  prays  for  her  speedy 
departure  from  their  city. 


464 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


that  her  gifts  have  prevailed  for  tht-ir 
reprieve.     (The  attendant  retires.) 

Mrdca  contrasts  the  assured  career 
of  her  children  with  her  own  hapless 
condition;  then  remembers  her  resolve 

ami  with  softening  heart  laments  their 
dreadful  fate.  She  hastily  sends 
them  within  the  palace.  Left  alone, 
she  again  struggles  between  her 
mother-love  and  her  resolve  not  to 
leave  her  children  subject  to  the  scorn 
of  her  foes.  (She  here  leaves  the 
stage  to  wait  for  tidings  from  the 
royal  house.) 

Then  follows  a  monologue  by  the 
chorus  leader  discussing  the  advan- 
tages of  childlessness.  No  reference 
is  made  to  the  passing  events. 

Medea  returns  just  in  time  to  meet 
a  messenger  who  breathlessly  an- 
nounces the  death  of  Creon  and  his 
daughter.  At  the  request  of  Medea 
he  gives  a  detailed  account  of  the 
reception  of  the  magic  robe  and 
crown,  the  bride's  delight,  and  her 
sudden  and  awful  death,  in  which 
her  father  also  was  involved.  He 
urges  Medea  to  fly  at  once.  She  an- 
nounces her  intention  to  do  so  as 
soon  as  she  has  slain  her  children; 
and  then  rushes  into  the  house. 

Fifth  choral  interlude. — This  con- 
sists of  a  single  strophe  and  anti- 
strophe  in  which  the  chorus  calls  upon 
the  gods  to  restrain  Medea's  mad  act. 
Then  are  heard  within  the  house  the 
shrieks  first  of  the  two  children,  then 
of  one,  then  silence,  the  chorus  mean- 
while wildly  shouting  to  Medea  to 
desist  from  her  deadly  work. 

The  exode. — Jason  appears  in  search 
of  Medea  that  he  may  avenge  on  her 
the  death  of  the  royal  pair;    but  most 


The  exode. — A  messenger  comes 
running  in  from  the  direction  of  the 
palace,  and  announces  that  the  king 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


465 


he  fears  for  his  children.  The  chorus 
informs   him   that    they    arc    already 

slain  within  the  palace  by  their 
mother's  hand.  He  prepares  to  force 
an  entrance  into  the  house. 

But  now  Medea  appears  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  dragons.  She  defies  Jason's 
power  to  harm  her.  Jason  replies  by 
reproaching  her  with  all  the  murder- 
ous deeds  of  her  life,  which  have  cul- 
minated in  this  crowning  deed  of 
blood.  She  in  turn  reproaches  him 
and  his  ingratitude  as  the  cause  of  all. 
A  storm  of  mutual  imprecations  fol- 
lows, and  Medea  disappears  with  the 
bodies  of  her  two  sons,  denying  to 
Jason  even  the  comfort  of  weeping 
over  their  remains. 


and  his  daughter  are  dead.  The 
eager  questions  of  the  chorus  bring 
out  the  strange  circumstances  attend- 
ing till-,  pile.  Media  enters 
in  time  to  hear  that  her  magic  has  been 
successful,  and  ignoring  the  nurse's 
entreaties  to  flee  at  once,  she  becomes 
absorbed  in  her  own  reflections.  And 
now  in  her  words  may  be  seen  the  in- 
ward struggle  between  maternal  love 
and  jealous  hate  as  she  nerves  herself 
for  the  final  act  of  vengeance.  The 
purpose  to  kill  her  children  grows 
upon  her,  resist  it  as  she  may,  until  in 
an  ecstasy  of  madness,  urged  on  by  a 
vision  of  her  murdered  brother,  she 
her  first  son;  and  then,  bearing 
the  corpse  of  one  and  leading  the  other 
by  the  hand,  she  mounts  to  the  turret  of 
her  house.  Here  with  a  refinement 
of  cruelty  she  slays  the  second  son  in 
Jason's  sight,  disregarding  his  abject 
prayers  for  the  boy's  life.  Now  a 
chariot  drawn  by  dragons  appears  in 
the  air.  This  Medea  mounts  and  is 
borne  away,  while  Jason  shouts  his 
impotent  curses  after  her. 


THE  HERCULES  FURENS  OF  EURIPIDES,  AND  THE  HERCULES 

FURENS   OF   SENEi    V 


Prologue. — The  old  Amphitryon, 
before  the  altar  of  Jupiter,  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  house  of  Hercules  in 
Thebes,  relates  how  Hercules  has  gone 
to  the  lower  world  to  bring  them 
the  realms  of  day  the  triple-headed 
Cerberus.  Meanwhile,  Lycus,  taking 
advantage  of  the  hero's  absence,  has 
slain  king  Creon  and  usurped  his 
throne.  The  father,  wife,  and  children 
of  Hercules  he  has  reduced  to  poverty, 
and  holds  them   in  durance   here  in 


Prologue. — Juno  complains  that  she 

tirly  driven  out  of  heaven  by  her 

numerous  rivals,   mortal   women   who 

have  been  deified  and  set  in  the  sky, 

either  they  1  .r  their  offspring,  by 
Jupiter.      Espei  ially  is  her  wrath  hot 

against   Hercules,  against  whom  she 

has  waged  fruitless  war  from  his  in- 
famy until  now.  But  he  thrives  on 
hardship,  and  scorns  her  opposition. 
She  passes   in   review  the    hard   t 

which    she    b  1        I   him,  and  all  of 


466 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Thebes,  threatening  to  slay  the  sons, 

Lot,  whin  the  boys  attain  niaturer  age, 
They  should  avium'  thrir  Krandsirc,  Crcon's, 
death. 

Amphitryon    condoles    with    Mcgara, 

an<l  counsels  with  her  how  they  may 

escape  the  dangers  of  their  present  Lot. 


Parade,  or  chorus  entry. — The  cho- 
rus of  Theban  elders,  feeble,  tottering 
old  men,  enters  and  bemoans  the 
wTetched  fate  that  has  befallen  their 
city  and  the  household  of  their  prince. 


First  episode. — Now  enters  Lycus, 
the  usurper.  He  insolently  taunts  his 
victims  on  their  helplessness,  tells  them 
that  Hercules  will  never  return,  be- 
littles and  scorns  the  hero's  mighty 
deeds,  and  announces  his  intention  of 
killing  the  sons. 

Amphitryon  answers  the  slanders  of 
Lycus  against  Hercules,  and  protests 
against  the  proposed  barbarous  treat- 
ment of  the  children,  who  are  inno- 
cent of  any  harm.  He  reproaches 
Thebes  and  all  the  land  of  Greece, 
because  they  have  so  ill  repaid  the 
services  of  their  deliverer  in  not  com- 
ing to  the  rescue  of  his  wife  and 
children.  Lycus  gives  orders  to  burn 
the  hated  race  of  Hercules,  even  where 


which  he  has  triumphantly  performed. 
Already  is  he  claiming  a  place  in 
heaven.  He  can  be  conquered  only 
by  his  own  hand.  Yes,  this  shall  be 
turned  against  him,  for  a  fury  shall  be 
summoned  up  from  hell  who  shall 
fill  his  heart  with  madness;  and  in  this 
madness  shall  he  do  deeds  which  shall 
make  him  long  for  death. 

Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — A  vivid 
picture  of  the  dawning  day,  when  the 
stars  and  waning  moon  fade  out  before 
the  rising  sun;  when  Toil  wakes  up 
and  resumes  its  daily  cares;  when 
through  the  fields  the  animals  and 
birds  are  all  astir  with  glad,  new 
life. 

But  in  the  cities  men  awaken  to 
repeat  the  sordid  round  of  toil,  the 
greedy  quest  for  gold  and  power.  But, 
whether  happily  or  unhappily,  all  are 
speeding  down  to  the  world  of  shades. 
Even  before  his  time  has  Hercules 
gone  down  to  Pluto's  realm,  and  has 
not  yet  returned. 

First  episode. — Megara  enters  and 
bewails  the  fresh  woes  that  are  ever 
ready  to  meet  her  husband's  home- 
coming. She  recounts  the  incidents 
of  his  long  and  difficult  career,  his 
heroic  suffering  at  Juno's  bidding. 

And  now  base  Lycus  has  taken 
advantage  of  her  husband's  absence 
in  the  lower  world  to  kill  her  father, 
Creon,  king  of  Thebes,  and  all  his  sons, 
and  to  usurp  the  throne — 

And  Lycus  rules  the  Thebes  of  Hercules ! 
She  prays  her  husband  soon  to  come 
and  right  these  wrongs,  though  in  her 
heart  she  fears  that  he  will  never  come 
again. 

Old  Amphitryon  tries  to  reassure 
her     by    recalling    the    superhuman 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


467 


they  kneel  for  refuge  at  the  altar-side; 
and  threatens  the  elders  who  would 
thwart  his  will,  bidding  them  remember 

that  they  are  but  as  slaves  in  his  sight. 
Vet  the  old  men  valiantly  defy  him,  and 
warn  him  that  they  will  withstand  his 
attacks  upon  the  children. 

But  Megara  shows  them  how  foolish 
it  is  to  contend  against  the  king's 
unbounded  power.  Let  them  rather 
entreat  his  mercy.  Could  not  exile  be 
substituted  for  death  ?  But  no,  for 
this  is  worse  than  death.  Rather, 
let  them  all  die  together.  Perhaps 
Lycus  will  allow  her  to  go  into  the 
palace  and  deck  her  children  in  funeral 
garments  ?  This  prayer  is  granted, 
though  Lycus  warns  them  that  they 
are  to  die  at  once.  Left  alone,  Am- 
phitryon chides  Jupiter  because  he 
does  not  care  for  the  children  of  his 
son: 

Thou  know'st  not  how 
To  save  thy  friends.     Thou  surely  art  a  god, 
Either  devoid  of  wisdom,  or  unjust. 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sings  in  praise  of  the  mighty  works  of 
Hercules,  describing  these  in  pictur- 
esque detail,  from  the  destruction  of 
the  Nemcan  lion  to  his  last  adventure 
which  has  taken  him  to  the  world  of 
shades,  whence,  alas,  he  will  never 
more  return.  And  meanwhile,  lack- 
ing his  protection,  his  friends  and 
family  are  plunged  in  hopeless  misery. 

Second  episode. — Forth  from  the 
palace,  all  dressed  in  the  garb  of  death, 
come  Megara  and  her  children.     She 


valor  and  strength  of  Hercules,  but 
without  success. 

Now  Lycus  appears,  boasting  of  the 
power  which  he  has  gained,  not  by 
long  descent  from  a  noble  line,  but  by 
his  own  valor.  But  his  house  cannot 
stand  by  valor  alone.  He  must 
strengthen  his  power  by  union  with 
some  princely  house — he  will  marry 
Megara!  Should  she  refuse,  he  will 
give  to  utter  ruin  all  the  house  of 
Hercules. 

Meeting  her  at  the  moment,  he 
attempts  with  specious  arguments  to 
persuade  her  to  his  plan.  But  Meg- 
ara repulses  his  monstrous  proposi- 
tion with  indignant  scorn.  Lycus 
attempts  to  defend  his  slaughter  of 
her  father  and  brother  as  done  through 
the  exigency  of  war,  and  pleads  with 
her  to  put  away  her  wrath;  but  all 
in  vain,  and  in  the  end  he  bids  his 
attendants  heap  high  a  funeral  pyre 
on  which  to  burn  the  woman  and  all 
her  brood. 

When  Lycus  has  retired,  Amphitry- 
on in  his  extremity  prays  to  heaven  for 
aid;  but  suddenly  checks  himself  with 
incredulous  joy,  for  he  hears  approach- 
ing the  well-known  step  of  Hercules ! 

First  choral  interlude. — Verily  for- 
tune is  unjust,  for  while  Eurystheus 
sits  at  ease,  the  nobler  Hercules  must 
sutler  unending  hardships.  I  lis  labors 
are  briefly  recapitulated.  Now  has  he 
gone  to  hell  to  bring  bark  Cerberus. 
Oh,  that  he  may  conquer  death  as  all 
tilings  else,  and  come  back  again,  as 
did  Orpheus  by  the  charm  of  his  lyre. 

Second   episode. — Hercules    enl 
fresh  from  the  lower  world,  rejoicing 
that  he  again  beholds  the  light  of  day, 


4(>S 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


is  ready  for  the  doom  which  lias  been 
pronounced  upon  then).  She  sadly 
recalls  the  fond  hopes  that  she  and  her 
husband  had  cherished  for  these  sons. 
Hut  these  bright  prospects  have  van- 
ished now,  for  death  is  waiting  to  claim 
them  all,  herself  as  well.      She  will  fold 

them  in  a  last  motherly  embrace,  and 

pour  out  her  grief: 

I  low,  like  the  bee  with  variegated  wings, 

Shall  I  collect  tin-  BOriOWS  of  you  all, 
And  blend  the  whole  together  in  a  flood 
Of  tears  cxhaustless! 

But  perhaps  even  yet  her  absent  lord 
has  power  to  intervene  in  her  behalf, 
though  he  be  but  a  ghost.  She  prays 
despairingly  that  he  will  come  to  aid. 
Amphitryon  would  try  the  favor  of  Jove 
once  more  in  this  extremity: 

I  call  on  thec,  O  Jove,  that,  if  thou  mean 
To  be  a  friend  to  these  deserted  children. 
Thou  interpose  without  delay  and  save  them; 
For  soon  'twill  be  no  longer  in  thy  power. 

But  at  this  juncture,  when  no  help 
seems  possible  from  heaven  or  hell, 
to  their  amazed  joy,  Hercules  himself 
appears,  and  in  the  flesh.  He  per- 
ceives the  mourning  garments  of  his 
family,  and  the  grief-stricken  faces  of 
the  chorus,  and  quickly  learns  the 
cause  of  all  this  woe.  He  at  once 
plans  vengeance  upon  the  wretch  who 
has  wrought  it  all.  He  has,  himself, 
forewarned  by  a  "bird  of  evil  omen 
perched  aloft,"  entered  Thebes  in 
secret;  and  now  he  will  hide  within 
his  own  palace  and  wait  until  Lycus 
comes  to  fetch  the  victims  whom  he 
has  doomed  to  death.  But  first  he 
briefly  replies  to  Amphitryon's  ques- 
tions as  to  the  success  of  his  errand 
to  the  lower  world. 


and  exulting  in  the  accomplishment 
of  his  latest  and  most  difficult  task; 
when  suddenly  he  notices  soldiers  on 
guard,  and  his  wife  and  children 
dressed  in  mourning  garments.  He 
asks  what  these  things  mean.  Am- 
phitryon answers  briefly  that  I.ycus 
has  killed  Creon  and  his  sons,  usurped 
the  throne,  and  now  has  doomed 
Megara  and  her  children  to  death. 

Hercules  leaves  his  home  at  once  to 
find,  and  take  vengeance  on,  his  enemy, 
though  Theseus,  whom  he  has  rescued 
from  the  world  of  shades,  begs  for  the 
privilege  himself  of  slaying  Lycus. 
Left  with  Amphitryon,  in  reply  to  the 
litter's  questions,  Theseus  gives  in 
great  detail  an  account  of  the  lower 
world,  its  way  of  approach,  its  topog- 
raphy, and  the  various  creatures  who 
dwell  within  its  bounds.  After  de- 
scribing in  particular  the  operations  of 
justice  and  the  punishment  of  the 
condemned,  he  tells  how  Hercules 
overcame  Cerberus  and  brought  him 
to  the  upper  world. 


Second   choral  interlude. — The   old 


Second  choral   interlude. — The  cho- 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


469 


men  sing  in  envy  of  youth  and  com- 
plaint of  old  age: 

But  now  a  burden  on  my  head 
Heavier  than  Aetna's  rock,  old  age,  I  bear. 

They  hold  that  had  the  gods  been  wiser 
they  would  have  given  renewed  youth 
as  a  reward  to  the  virtuous,  leaving  the 
degenerate  to  fall  asleep  and  wake  no 
more.  And  yet,  though  oppressed  by 
age,  they  still  may  "breathe  the  strain 
Mnemosyne  inspires,"  and  sing  un- 
ceasingly the  deeds  of  Hercules: 

Alcidcs,  the  resistless  son  of  Jove; 
Those  trophies  which  to  noble  birth  belong 
By  him  are  all  surpassed;  his  forceful  hand, 
Restoring  peace,  hath  cleansed   this  monster- 
teeming  land. 


Third  episode. — Lycus   enters   and 

encounters    Amphitryon    without   the 

palace.     Him   he   bids   to  go   within 

and    bring    out    the    victims    to    their 

death.     To  this  Amphitryon  objects 

on  the  ground    that  it    would    make 

him  an  accomplice  in   their  murder. 

Whereupon  Lycus  enters  the  palace 

to  do  his  own  errand.     The  old  man, 

looking  after  him,  exclaims: 

Depart;   for  to  that  place  the  fates  ordain 
You  now  are  on  the  road; 

while  the  chorus  rejoices  that  now  the 
oppressor  is  so  soon  to  meet  his  just 
punishment.  Now  the  despairing  cries 
of  Lycus  are  heard  within  and  then — 
silence. 


Third  choral  interlude. — All  is  now 


rus,  with  Theseus'  words  in  mind, 
dwell  in  fancy  still  upon  the  lower 
world.  They  follow  Hercules  along 
"that  dark  way,  which  to  the  distant 
manes  leads,"  and  picture  the 
thronging  shades,  the  "repulsive 
glooms,"  and  the  "weary  inactivity  of 
that  still,  empty  universe."  They 
pray  that  it  may  be  long  ere  they 
must  go  to  that  dread  world,  to  which 
all  the  wandering  tribes  of  earth  must 
surely  come.  But  away  with  gloomy 
thoughts!  Now  is  the  time  for  joy, 
for  Hercules  is  come  again.  Let 
animals  and  men  make  holiday,  and 
fitly  celebrate  their  prince's  world- 
wide victories,  and  their  own  deliver- 
ance from  their  recent  woes. 

Third  episode. — Hercules  returns  to 
his  house,  fresh  from  the  slaying  of 
Lycus,  and  proceeds  to  offer  sacrifices 
of  thanksgiving  to  Jupiter.  But  in 
the  midst  of  the  sacrifice  the  madness 
planned  by  Juno  begins  to  come  upon 
him.  His  sight  is  darkened,  and  his 
reason  changed  to  delirium.  Now 
he  catches  sight  of  his  children,  cower- 
ing in  fright;  he  thinks  they  are  the  chil- 
dren of  Lycus,  immediately  lets  fly  an 
arrow  at  one  of  them,  and  seizes  a  sec- 
ond, whom  he  drags  from  the  scene. 
Amphitryon,  standing  where  h 
all  that  takes  place,  describes  the 
wretched  death  of  the  second,  and  then 
the  third,  though  Megara  tries  to 
her  last  remaining  child.  She  also  falls 
before  the  blow  of  her  husband,  who 
thinks  in  his  madness  that  she  is  his 
cruel  stepmother,  Juno.  Hercules, 
re-entering,  exults  in  his  supposed 
victory  over  his  enemies,  and  then 
sinks  down  in  a  deep  faint. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 


4;o 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


joy  and  exultation.  Fear  ha-;  depart- 
ed, hope  lias  come  lurk  again,  and 
faith  in  the  protecting  care  of  the  gods 
is  restored.  Therefore,  lei  all  Thebes 
give  herself  up  t<>  the  rapture  and 
triumph  of  this  hour. 

But  now  two  specters  arc  seen 
hovering  over  the  palace,  one  of  whom 
introduces  herself  to  the  chorus  as 
Iris,  the  ambassadress  of  Juno,  and 
announces  that  her  companion  is  a 
fir  ml,  daughter  of  the  night.  Their 
mission  hither  is,  at  the  command  of 
Juno,  to  drive  Hercules  into  a  madness 
in  which  he  shall  slay  his  children. 
The  fiend,  indeed,  makes  a  weak 
protest  against  such  a  mission,  but 
speedily  yields  and  goes  darting  into 
the  palace,  where  we  know  that  she 
begins  at  once  her  deadly  work  within 
the  breast  of  Hercules. 

The  chorus  bemoans  the  city's 
short-lived  joy,  and  the  new  and 
terrible  disaster  that  has  fallen  upon 
their  hero's  house.  Soon  they  hear 
the  mad  shouts  of  Hercules,  and  know 
by  these  that  the  fiend  has  already 
done  her  fatal  work. 

Exode. — A  messenger  hurries  out 
of  the  palace,  and  describes  the  dread- 
ful scenes  that  have  just  been  enacted 
there.  Hercules  was  offering  sacri- 
fices of  purification  before  Jove's  altar, 
with  his  three  sons  and  Megara  beside 
him.  All  was  propitious,  when  sud- 
denly a  madness  seized  on  Hercules. 
He  ceased  his  present  sacrifice,  de- 
claring that  he  must  first  go  to  My- 
cenae and  kill  Eurystheus  and  his 
sons,  and  so  make  an  end  of  all 
his  enemies  at  once.  In  fancy  he 
mounted  a  chariot  and  speedily  arrived 
at  Mycenae.  His  own  sons  seemed 
to  his  disordered  vision  to  be  Eurys- 


r  ills  upon  heaven,  earth,  and  sea  to 
mourn  for  Hercules  in  this  new  disas- 
ter that  has  befallen  him.  They  pray 
that  he  may  be  restored  to  sanity.      In 

a  long  apostrophe  i<>  Sleep  they  pray 
that  the  soothing  influences  of  this  god 
may  hold  and  subdue  him  until  his 
former  mind  returns  to  its  accustomed 
course.  They  watch  his  feverish 
tossings,  and  suffer  with  him  in  the 
grief  which  he  so  soon  must  realize. 
They  close  with  a  pathetic  lament  over 
the  dead  children. 


Exode. — Hercules  wakes  up  in  his 
right  mind,  bewildered  and  uncertain 
where  he  is.  His  eyes  fall  on  the 
murdered  children,  though  he  does  not 
as  yet  recognize  them  as  his  own. 
He  misses  his  familiar  club  and  bow, 
and  wonders  who  has  been  bold 
enough  to  remove  these  and  not  to  fear 
even  a  sleeping  Hercules.  Now  he 
recognizes  in  the  corpses  his  own  wife 
and  children: 

Oh,  what  sight  is  this  ? 
My  sons  lie  murdered,  weltering  in  their  blood; 
My  wife  is  slain.      What  Lycus  rules  the  land  ? 
Who  could  have  dared  to  do  such  things  in 

Thebes, 
And  Hercules  returned  ? 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


4?i 


thcus'  sons;  and,  rushing  savagely 
upon  them,  he  soon  had  slain  them 
all,  and  Megara  herself.  Then  did 
he  fall  into  a  deep,  swoonlike  slumber, 
prostrate  beside  a  mighty  column,  to 
which  the  attendants  tied  him  securely 
with  cords,  lest  he  awake  and  do 
further  mischief. 

The  palace  doors  are  now  thrown 
open,  and  the  prostrate,  sleeping 
Hercules  is  seen.  Amphitryon  warns 
the  chorus  not  to  wake  him  lest  they 
restore  him  to  his  miseries.  Soon 
Hercules  awakes,  and  in  his  right 
mind.  He  seems  to  himself  to  have 
had  a  dreadful  dream.  He  looks  in 
wonder  at  the  cords  which  bind  his 
arms,  at  the  fresh-slain  corpses  lying 
near,  at  his  own  arrows  scattered  on 
the  floor.  He  calls  aloud  for  some- 
one to  explain  these  things  to  him. 
Amphitryon  advances  and  informs 
him  that  in  his  madness,  sent  by 
Juno's  hate,  he  has  destroyed  his  wife 
and  all  his  sons. 

And  now  Theseus,  having  heard 
that  Lycus  has  usurped  the  throne 
of  Thebes,  and  grateful  for  his  own 
deliverance  from  the  world  of  shades 
by  Hercules,  has  come  with  an  army 
of  Athenian  youth  to  aid  his  friend. 
He  is  shocked  to  find  the  hero  sitting 
in  deepest  dejection,  with  head  bowed 
low,  and  covered  with  a  mourning- 
veil.  Quickly  he  inquires  and  learns 
the  truth  from  Amphitryon.  With 
noble  and  unselfish  friendship,  he  offers 
his  sympathy  and  help  to  Hercules, 
although  the  latter  warns  him  to  avoid 
the  contagion  which  his  own  guilty 
presence  engenders.  He  bids  Her- 
cules be  a  man,  and  give  over  his 
threats  of  self-destruction. 

Hercules  gives  the  reasons  why  it 


He  notices  that  Theseus  and  Am- 
phitryon turn  away  and  will  not  meet 
his  gaze.  He  asks  them  who  has 
slain  his  family.  At  last,  partly  through 
their  half -admissions,  and  partly 
through  his  own  surmise,  it  comes  to 
him  that  this  dreadful  deed  is  his  own. 
His  soul  reels  with  the  shock,  and  he 
prays  wildly  for  death.  No  attempts 
of  his  two  friends  to  palliate  his  deed 
can  soothe  his  grief  and  shame.  At 
last  the  threat  of  old  Amphitryon 
instantly  to  anticipate  the  death  of 
Hercules  by  his  own  leads  the  hero  to 
give  over  his  deadly  purpose. 

He   consents   to   live — but    where  ? 

What    land    will    receive    a    polluted 

wretch    like    him  ?     He    appeals    to 

Theseus: 

O  Theseus,  faithful  friend,  seek  out  a  place. 
Far  off  from  here  where  I  may  hide  myself. 

Theseus  offers  his  own  Athens  as  a 
place  of  refuge,  where  his  friend  may 
find  at  once  asylum  and  cleansing 
from  his  sin: 

My  land  awaits  thy  coming;   there  will  Mars 
Wash  clean  thy  hands  and  give  thec  back  thy 

arms. 
That  land,  <)  Hercules,  now  calls  to  thee. 
Which  even  gods  from  sin  is  wont  to  free. 


472  The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 

is  impossible  for  him  to  live    First, 

Juno's  inveterate  hate,  which  attacked 
him  in  his  very  cradle,  pursues  him 
still,  relentlessly;  hut,  most  and  worst 
of  all,  he  has  incurred  such  odium 
because  of  the  murder  of  his  wife  and 
children,  that  he  will  he  henceforth  an 
outcast  on  the  earth.  No  land  will 
give  him  refuge  now.  Why  should 
he  live?  Let  him  die;  and  let  Juno's 
cup  of  happiness  be  full. 

Theseus  reminds  him  that  no  man 
escapes  unscathed  by  fate.  Nay,  even 
the  gods  themselves  have  done  unlaw- 
ful things,  and  yet  live  on  and  do  not 
feel  the  obloquy  their  deeds  should 
cause.  As  for  a  place  of  refuge, 
Athens  shall  be  his  home.  There 
shall  he  obtain  full  cleansing  for  his 
crimes,  a  place  of  honor,  and  ample 
provision  for  his  wants.  All  that  a 
generous  and  grateful  friend  can  give 
shall  be  his  own. 

Hercules  accepts  this  offer  of  The- 
seus, reflecting  also  that  he  might  be 
charged  with  cowardice  should  he 
give  up  to  his  troubles  and  seek  refuge 
in  death.  He  accordingly  takes  a 
mournful  farewell  of  his  dead  wife  and 
children,  commends  their  bodies  to 
Amphitryon  for  burial,  which  it  is  not 
lawful  for  him  to  give,  and  so  com- 
mits himself  to  the  hands  of  his  faith- 
ful friend: 

I  will  follow  Theseus, 
Towed  like  a  battered  skiff.     Whoe'er  prefers 
Wealth  or  dominion  to  a  steadfast  friend 

Judges  amiss. 


THE  HIPPOLYTUS  OF  EURIPIDES,  AND  THE  HIPPOLYTUS  OF 

SENECA 
Prologue. — Venus    complains    that  Prologue. — Hippolytus,  in  hunting- 

Hippolytus  alone  of  all  men  sets  her       costume,  appears  in  the  court  of  the 
power  at  naught  and  owns  allegiance       palace,  which  is  filled  with  huntsmen 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


47.3 


fJ_ 

to  her  rival,  Diana.  She  announces 
her  plan  of  revenge:  that  Phaedra 
shall  become  enamored  of  her  stepson, 
that  Theseus  shall  be  made  aware  of 
this  and  in  his  rage  be  led  to  slay  his 
son.  If  Phaedra  perish  too,  it  will 
but  add  to  the  triumph  of  the  goddess' 
-lighted  power. 

Hippolytus  comes  in  from  the  chase 
and  renders  marked  homage  to  Diana. 
He  is  warned  by  an  aged  officer  of  the 
palace  "to  loathe  that  pride  which 
studies  not  to  please."  Inquiring  the 
meaning  of  this  warning,  he  is  told  to 
recognize  the  presence  of  Venus,  too, 
and  to  include  her  in  his  devotions; 
but  from  this  advice  he  turns  away  in 
scorn. 

Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  chorus 
of  Troezenian  women  deplores  the 
strange  malady  that  has  befallen  the 
young  queen.     They  relate  how 

This  is  the  third  revolving  day, 

Since,  o'crpowercd  by  lingering  pains, 
She  from  all  nourishment  abstains, 

ing  that  lovely  frame  with  slow  decay. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  lyric  part  of 
the  chorus,  the  queen,  closely  veiled,  in 
company  with  her  aged  nurse,  is  seen 
coming  from  the  palace  gates. 

J-'irst  episode. — Full  of  anxiety,  the 
nurse  strives  to  indulge  her  mistress' 
every  whim.  Phaedra  answers  feebly 
at  first,  but  suddenly,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  her  companion,  her  speech  is 
Oiled  with  language  of  the  chase,  and 
she  again  relapses  into  her  mute  leth- 
argy. At  last,  under  the  insistence  of  the 
nurse  to  probe  her  mystery,  Phaedra 
confesses  that  the  wretched  fate  of  her 
house  pursues  her,  too,  and  that  she 
now  feels  the  torments  of  love;  and, 
though  she  does  not  speak  his  name, 


bearing  nets  and  all  sorts  of  hunting- 
weapons,  and  leading  dogs  in  leash. 
The  young  prince,  in  a  long,  rambling 
speech,  assigns  places  for  the  hunt,  and 
their  duties  to  his  various  servants  and 
companions.  He  ends  with  an  elabo- 
rate ascription  of  praise  to  his  patroness 
Diana,  as  goddess  of  the  chase,  and 
with  a  prayer  to  her  for  success  in  his 
own  present  undertaking.  The  whole 
speech  is  in  lyric  strain,  the  anapestic 
measure,  most  commonly  employed 
by  Seneca. 


Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  tech- 
nical chorus  entry  is  entirely  lacking  in 
this  play.  While  the  chorus  may  be  as- 
sumed to  have  entered  and  to  have  been 
present  during  the  long  interview  be- 
tween Phaedra  and  her  nurse,  which 
forms  the  first  episode,  still  its  presence 
is  in  no  way  manifested  until  the  end 
of  this  interview. 


First  episode. — Phaedra  bewails  her 
present  lot,  in  that  she  has  been  forced 
to  leave  her  native  Crete,  and  live  in 
wedlock  with  her  father's  enemy.  And 
even  he  has  now  deserted  her,  gone  to 
the  very  realms  of  Dis,  in  company 
with  a  madcap  friend,  to  seduce  and 
bear  away  the  gloomy  monarch's 
queen.  But  a  worse  grief  than  this  is 
preying  on  her  soul.  She  feels  in  her 
own  heart  the  devastating  power  of 
unlawful  love,  which  has  already 
destroyed  all  the  natural  interests  of 


/ 


474 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


the  truth  at  last  is  dear  that  Hippoly- 
t  us  is  the  object  of  her  passion.    The 

DUTSe  iv,  oils  in  horror  and  shame  from 

this  confession. 

Phaedra  describes  how  she  has 
Struggled  against  her  unhappy  love, 
but  in  vain,  and  is  now  resolved  on 
death  in  order  to  save  her  honor.  At 
this  the  nurse  throws  all  her  influence 
in  the  opposite  scale,  arguing  that,  after 
all,  the  sway  of  Venus  is  universal, 
that  it  is  only  human  to  iove,  and  that 
this  is  no  reason  why  one  should  cast 
his  life  away.  She  even  proposes  to 
acquaint  Hippolytus  with  her  mistress' 
feelings,  and  strive  to  win  his  love  in 
return.  This  proposal  Phaedra  in- 
dignantly rejects.  The  nurse  then 
offers  to  fetch  from  the  house  certain 
philters  which  will  cure  the  queen  of 
her  malady.  The  queen  reluctantly 
consents  to  this,  and  the  nurse  retires 
into  the  palace. 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
prays  that  love  may  never  come  upon 
its  breast  with  immoderate  power,  and 
relates  instances  of  the  resistless  sway 
of  Venus  and  her  son. 

Second  episode. — Phaedra,  standing 
near  the  doors  of  the  palace,  suddenly 
becomes  agitated,  and  utters  despair- 
ing cries.  The  chorus,  inquiring  the 
cause  of  these,  is  told  to  listen.       At 


her  life.  She  recalls  her  mother's 
Unhappy  passion;  but  this  was  bear- 
able compared  with  her  own.  For 
Venus  has,  from  deadly  hatred  of  her 
family,  filled  her  with  a  far  more  hope- 
less love.  She  does  not  name  the 
object  of  her  passion,  but,  from  her 
guarded  references,  it  is  clear  that 
Hippolytus,  her  stepson,  is  meant. 

The  nurse  urges  her  mistress  to  drive 
this  passion  from  her  breast,  moraliz- 
ing upon  the  danger  of  delay.  Has 
not  her  house  already  known  sinful 
love  enough  ?  Such  love  is  dangerous 
for  it  cannot  long  be  hid.  Granting 
that  Theseus  may  never  return  to 
earth,  can  her  sin  be  concealed  from 
her  father  ?  from  her  grandsires,  both 
gods  of  heaven  ?  And  what  of  her  own 
conscience  ?  Can  she  ever  be  happy 
or  at  peace  with  such  a  sin  upon  her 
soul  ?  She  pictures  her  mistress' 
passion  in  all  its  hideousness.  Be- 
sides, it  is  most  hopeless,  since  Hip- 
polytus, woman-hater  that  he  is,  can 
never  be  brought  to  respond  to  it. 
Phaedra  yields  to  these  arguments  and 
entreaties  of  the  nurse,  and  says  that 
now  she  is  resolved  upon  death  as  her 
only  refuge.  Hereupon  the  nurse 
(the  usual  role)  begs  her  not  to  take 
this  desperate  course,  and  undertakes 
to  bend  Hippolytus  to  their  will. 

First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sings  at  length  upon  the  universal  and 
irresistible  sway  of  love. 


Second  episode. — On  the  inquiry  of 
the  chorus  as  to  how  the  queen  is  faring, 
the  nurse  describes  the  dreadful  effect 
which  this  malady  of  love  has  already 
produced  upon  her.     Then  the  palace 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


475 


first  there  is  only  a  confused  murmur 
from  within;  but  this  soon  resolves 
itself  into  the  angry  denunciations  of 
Hippolytus  and  the  pleading  tones  of 
the  nurse.  By  these  Phaedra  learns 
that  the  nurse  has  indeed  revealed  the 
fatal  secret  to  Hippolytus  under  an 
oath  that  he  will  not  betray  the  truth 
to  anyone,  and  that  the  youth  has 
received  the  announcement  with  horror 
and  scorn.  He  breaks  forth  into  bitter 
reproaches  against  all  womankind. 
He  regrets  that  his  lips  are  sealed  by 
his  oath,  else  would  he  straightway 
reveal  to  Theseus  all  his  wife's  un- 
faithfulness. 

Phaedra,  on  her  side,  reproaches  the 
nurse  for  betraying  her  secret.  She 
angrily  dismisses  her,  and,  after  exact- 
ing an  oath  of  silence  from  the  chorus, 
goes  out,  reiterating  her  resolve  to  die, 
and  suggests  that  she  has  one  expedient 
left  by  which  her  name  may  be  pre- 
served from  infamy,  and  her  sons  from 
dishonor. 


doors  open,  and  Phaedra  is  seen' 
reclining  upon  a  couch,  attended  by 
her  tiring-women.  She  rejects  all  the 
beautiful  robes  and  jewels  which  they 
offer,  and  desires  to  be  dressed  as  a 
huntress,  ready  for  the  chase. 

The  nurse  prays  to  Diana  to  conquer 
the  stubborn  soul  of  Hippolytus  and 
bend  his  heart  toward  her  mistress. 
At  this  moment  the  youth  himself 
enters  and  inquires  the  cause  of  the 
nurse'3  distress. 

Thereupon  ensues  a  long  debate,  in 
which  the  nurse  chides  Hippolytus  for 
his  austere  life  and  argues  that  the 
pleasures  of  life  .were  meant  to  be 
enjoyed,  and  that  no  life  comes  to  its 
full  fruition  unless  youth  is  given  free 
rein.  The  young  man  replies  by  a 
rhapsody  on  the  life  of  the  woods,  so 
full  of  simple,  wholesome  joys,  and  so 
free  from  all  the  cares  of  life  at  court 
and  among  men.  He  compares  this 
with  the  Golden  Age,  and  traces  the 
gradual  fall  from  the  innocence  of 
that  time  to  the  abandoned  sin  of  the 
present.  He  concludes  with  laying  all 
the  blame  for  this  upon  woman. 

Phaedra  now  comes  forth,  and, 
seeing  Hippolytus,  falls  fainting,  but  is 
caught  in  the  young  man's  arms.  He 
attempts  to  reassure  her  and  inquires 
the  cause  of  her  evident  grief.  After 
much  hesitation,  she  at  last  confesses 
her  love  for  him  and  begs  him  to  pity 
her.  With  scorn  and  horror  he  re- 
pulses her  and  starts  to  kill  her  with 
his  sword;  but,  deciding  not  so  to 
stain  his  sword,  he  throws  the  weapon 
away  and  makes  off  toward  the  forest. 

The  nurse  now  plans  to  save  her 
mi-tress  by  inculpating  Hippolytus. 
She  accordingly  calls  loudly  for  help, 
and   tells   the    attendants   who   come 


476 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Second  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
prays  to  l>e  wafted  fat  away  from  these 

SCenea  of  woe;  and  laments  that  the 
hapless  queen  had  ever  come  front 
Crete,  for  then  she  would  not  now  be 
doomed  by  hopeless  love  to  sclf- 
inflicted  death. 

Third  episode. — A  messenger  hur- 
riedly enters  with  the  announcement 
that  the  queen  has  destroyed  herself  by 
the  noose.  The  chorus,  though  grieved, 
manifests  no  surprise  at  this,  and  is 
divided  as  to  a  plan  of  action.  And 
now  enters  Theseus,  who  demands 
the  cause  of  the  lamentations  of  the 
servants,  which  may  be  heard  from 
within  the  palace.  He  learns  from 
the  chorus  the  fact  and  manner,  but 
not  the  cause,  of  Phaedra's  death. 

The  palace  doors  are  now  thrown 
open  and  the  shrouded  body  of  the 
queen  is  discovered  within.  Theseus, 
in  an  agony  of  lamentations,  seeks  to 
know  the  cause  of  his  queen's  death. 
He  at  length  discovers  a  letter  clasped 
in  her  dead  hand,  by  which  he  is  in- 
formed that  Phaedra  has  slain  herself 
in  grief  and  shame  because  her  honor 
has  been  violated  by  the  king's  own 
son,  Hippolytus.  Thereupon  Theseus 
curses  his  son,  and  calls  on  Neptune 
to  destroy  him,  offering  this  as  one  of 
the  three  requests  which,  in  accordance 
with  the  promise  of  the  god,  should  not 
be  denied. 

Here  enters  Hippolytus,  hearing  the 
sound  of  his  father's  voice.  He  looks 
in  amazement  upon  the  corpse  of 
Phaedra,  and  begs  his  father  to  explain 
her  death.     Theseus,  supposing  that 


rushing  in  that  the  youth  has  attempt 
cd  an  assault  upon  the  queen,  and 
shows  his  sword  in  evidence. 

Second  choral  interlude.- — The  chorus 
dwells  upon  and  praises  the  beauty  of 
Hippolytus,  and  discourses  upon  the 
theme  that  beauty  has  always  been  a 
dangerous  possession,  citing  various 
mythological  instances  in  proof  of  this. 

Third  episode. — Theseus,  just  re- 
turned to  earth  from  hades,  and  with 
all  the  horrors  of  the  lower  world  still 
upon  him,  briefly  refers  to  his  dreadful 
experiences  and  his  escape  by  the  aid 
of  Hercules.  Then,  hearing  the 
sounds  of  lamentation,  he  asks  the 
cause.  He  is  told  by  the  nurse  that 
Phaedra,  for  some  reason  which  she 
will  not  disclose,  has  resolved  on 
immediate  self-destruction.  Rushing 
into  the  palace,  he  encounters  Phaedra 
just  within.  After  urgent  entreaties 
and  threats  from  Theseus,  she  confes- 
ses that  she  is  determined  to  die  in 
order  to  remove  the  stain  upon  her 
honor;  and  without  mentioning  the 
name  of  him  who  has  ruined  her,  she 
shows  the  sword  which  Hippolytus 
has  left  behind  in  his  flight.  This  is 
at  once  recognized  by  Theseus,  who 
flies  into  a  wild  passion  of  horror,  rage, 
and  bitter  scorn.  He  vows  dire  ven- 
geance upon  his  son,  which  shall  reach 
him  wherever  he  may  flee;  and  ends 
by  claiming  from  Neptune,  as  the 
third  of  the  boons  once  granted  him, 
that  the  god  will  destroy  Hippolytus. 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


477 


his  son  conceals  a  guilty  conscience, 
makes  no  direct  answer,  but  inveighs 
against  the  specious  arts  of  man.  This 
strange  speech,  and  still  more  the 
manner  of  his  father,  now  show  Hip- 
polytus  that  he  himself  is  connected  in 
his  father's  mind  with  Phaedra's 
death;  and  he  seeks  to  know  who  has 
thus  calumniated  him.  The  wrath 
of  Theseus  now  breaks  overall  bounds. 
He  charges  his  son  with  the  dishonor 
and  murder  of  his  wife,  and  with 
withering  scorn  taunts  him  with  his 
former  professions  of  purity.  Hip- 
polytus  protests  his  innocence,  but 
Theseus  continues  obdurate,  and  pro- 
duces the  fatal  letter  in  proof  of  his 
statements.  Then  the  youth  realizes 
the  terrible  mesh  of  circumstances  in 
which  he  is  taken;  but,  bound  by  his 
oath  of  secrecy,  he  endures  in  silence. 
After  Theseus  has  pronounced  the 
doom  of  exile  upon  him,  and  retired 
within  the  gates,  he  himself  goes  forth 
to  seek  his  comrades  and  acquaint 
them  with  his  fate. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
retlects  upon  the  precarious  lifeof  man, 
lauds  the  golden  mean,  and  prays  for 
the  blessings  of  life  without  conspicu- 
ous fame.  No  man  can  hope  for  con- 
tinued security  in  life,  when  such  a 
youth  as  Hippolytus  is  driven  off  by 
Theseus'  ire.  It  laments  that  no 
longer  will  his  steeds,  his  lyre,  his 
wonted  woodland  haunts  know  the 
well-loved  youth;  and  reproaches  the 
gods  that  they  did  not  better  screen 
their  guiltless  votary. 

Exode. — The  last  words  of  the  cho- 
rus are  interrupted  by  the  approach  of 
a  messenger  who  hastily  inquires  for 


Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
complains  that  while  nature  is  so  care- 
ful to  maintain  the  order  of  the  heaven- 
ly bodies,  the  atmospheric  phenomena, 
the  seasons,  and  the  productiveness  of 
wealth,  for  the  affairs  of  men  alone 
she  has  no  care.  These  go  all  awry. 
Sin  prospers  and  righteousness  is  in 
distress.  Verily,  it  dues  not  at  all 
profit  a  man  to  strive  to  live  uprightly, 
since  all  the  rewards  of  life  go  to  the 
vain  and  profligate.  While  the 
of  Hippolytus  is  not  mentioned,  it  is 
clearly  in  mind  throughout. 

Exode. — A  messenger,  hurrying  in, 
announces  to  Theseus  the  death  of  his 
son.     Theseus     receives     the      news 


47« 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


the  king.  As  the  latter  comes  forth 
from  the  palace,  the  messenger  an- 
nounces the  death  of  his  son.  At  the 
kind's  request  he  gives  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  disaster:  how  Hippolytus 

was  driving  his  fiery  coursers  along  the 
shore,  when  Neptune  sent  a  monstrous 
hull  from  out  the  sea,  which  drove  the 
horses  to  B  panic  of  fear;  how  the  car 
w.i>  at  length  dashed  against  a  ragged 
cliff,  and  Hippolytus  dragged,  bruised 
and  bleeding,  by  the  maddened  horses; 
how,  though  yet  living,  he  could  not 
long  survive.  Theseus  expresses  pleas- 
ure at  his  son's  sufferings,  and  bids 
that  he  be  brought  into  his  presence 
that  he  may  behold  his  punishment. 

The  chorus  interjects  a  single 
strophe,  acknowledging  Venus  as  the 
unrivaled  queen  of  heaven  and  earth. 

Diana  now  appears  to  Theseus  and 
reveals  to  him  the  whole  truth,  ex- 
plaining the  infatuation  of  the  queen, 
the  fatal  letter,  and  the  wiles  of  Venus. 
The  father  is  filled  with  horror  and 
remorse.  Diana  tells  him  that  he  may 
yet  hope  for  pardon  for  his  sin,  since 
through  the  wiles  of  Venus,  which  she 
herself  could  not  frustrate,  the  deed 
was  done. 

Here  the  dying  Hippolytus  is  borne 
in  by  his  friends.  In  his  agony  he 
prays  for  death;  but  by  the  voice  of 
his  loved  goddess  he  is  soothed  and 
comforted.  After  a  touching  scene 
of  reconciliation  between  the  dying 
prince  and  his  father,  the  youth 
perishes,  leaving  Theseus  overcome 
with  grief. 


calmly  and  asks  for  a  detailed  account. 
The  messenger  relates  how  Hippolytus 
had  yoked  his  horses  to  his  car  and 
was  driving  madly  along  the  highway 
by  the  sea,  when  suddenly  the  waves 
swelled  up  and  launched  a  strange 
monster  in  the  form  of  a  bull  upon  the 
land.  This  monster  charged  upon 
Hippolytus,  who  fronted  the  beast  with 
unshaken  courage.  But  in  the  end 
the  horses  became  unmanageable 
through  fright,  and  dragged  their 
master  to  his  death  among  the  rocks. 
The  body  of  the  hapless  Hippolytus 
has  been  torn  in  pieces  and  scattered 
far  and  wide  through  the  fields;  and 
even  now  attendants  are  bringing 
these  in  for  burning  on  the  pyre. 
Theseus  laments,  not  because  his  son 
is  dead,  but  because  it  is  through  his, 
the  father's,  act. 

The  chorus  expatiates  upon  the 
fact  that  the  blows  of  fate  fall  heavily 
upon  men  of  exalted  condition,  but 
spare  the  humble.  The  great  The- 
seus, once  so  mighty  a  monarch,  but 
now  so  full  of  woe,  is  an  example  of 
this  truth.  It  has  not  profited  him 
to  escape  from  hades,  since  now  his 
son  has  hastened  thither. 

But  now  their  attention  is  turned  to 
Phaedra  who  appears,  wailing  aloud, 
and  with  a  drawn  sword  in  hand. 
She  rails  at  Theseus  as  the  destroyer 
of  his  house,  weeps  over  the  mangled 
remains  of  Hippolytus,  confesses  to 
Theseus  that  her  charge  against  his 
son  was  false,  and  ends  by  falling  upon 
the  sword. 

Theseus,  utterly  crushed  by  the 
weight  of  woe  that  has  fallen  upon 
him,  prays  only  that  he  may  return  to 
the  dark  world  from  which  he  has 
just  escaped. 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


479 


The  chorus  reminds  him  that  he  will 
find  ample  time  for  mourning,  and 
that  he  should  now  pay  due  funeral 
honors  to  his  son.  Wherpat  Theseus 
bids  all  the  fragments  be  hunted  out 
and  brought  before  him.  These  he 
fits  together  as  best  he  can,  lamenting 
bitterly  as  each  new  gory  part  is 
brought  to  him. 

He  ends  by  giving  curt  command  for 
the  burial  of  Phaedra,  with  a  prayer 
that  the  earth  may  rest  heavily  upon 
her. 


THE  MAIDENS  OF  TRACHIN  OF  SOPHOCLES,  AND  THE  HERCU- 
LES  OETAEUS   OF   SENECA 


Prologue. — In  the  courtyard  of  her 
palace  in  Trachin,  Deianira  recounts 
to  her  attendants  and  the  chorus  of 
Trachinian  maidens  how  her  husband 
had  won  her  from  the  river  god, 
Acheloiis,  and  how,  during  all  these 
years,  she  has  lived  in  fear  and  long- 
ing for  her  husband,  who  has  been 
kept  constantly  wandering  over  the 
earth  by  those  who  hold  him  in  their 
power;  and  even  now  he  has  been  for 
many  months  absent,  she  knows  not 
where. 

An  old  servant  proposes  that  she 
send  her  son,  Hyllus,  abroad  to  seek 
out  his  father.  This  the  youth,  who 
enters  at  this  juncture,  readily  prom- 
ises to  do,  especially  on  hearing  from 
his  mother  that  the  oracle  declares  this 
is  the  year  in  which  his  father  shall 
end  his  life, 

Or,  having  this  his  task  accomplished, 

Shall,  through  the  coming  years  of  all  his  life, 

Rejoice  and  prosper. 

Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  cho- 
rus prays  to  Helios,  the  bright  sun-god, 


Prologue. — Hercules,  about  to  sacri- 
fice to  Cenaean  Jove  after  having 
conquered  Eurytus,  king  of  Oechalia, 
recounts  at  length  his  mighty  toils  on 
earth,  and  prays  that  now  at  last  he 
may  be  given  his  proper  place  in 
heaven.  He  dispatches  his  herald, 
Lichas,  home  to  Trachin,  to  tell  the 
news  of  his  triumph,  and  to  conduct 
the  train  of  captives  thither. 


Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  place 
of  the  chorus  entry,  which  should  be 


480 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


for  tidings  of  Hercules,  for  Deianira 
longs  for  him,  and  "ever  nurses  unfor- 
getting  dread  as  to  her  husband's 
paths."     Hercules  is  tossed  upon  the 

stormy  sea  of  life,  now  up,  now  down, 
but  ever  kept  from  death  liy  some  god's 
hands.      Deianira     should,     therefore, 

be  comforted: 

l'.ir  who  hath  known  in  Zeus  forgetfulncss 
Of  those  he  children  calls? 


First  episode. — Deianira  confides  to 
the  chorus  her  special  cause  for  grief: 
she  feels  a  strong  presentiment  that 
Hercules  is  dead;  for,  when  he  last 
left  home,  he  left  a  tablet,  as  it  were 
a  will,  disposing  of  his  chattels  and 
his  lands, 

and  fixed  a  time, 
That    when    for   one   whole    year   and    three 

months  more 
He  from  his  land  was  absent,  then  'twas  his 
Or  in  that  self-same  hour  to  die,  or  else, 
Escaping  that  one  crisis,  thenceforth  live 

with  life  unvexed. 

At  this  moment,  however,  a  messen- 
ger enters  and  announces  the  near 
approach  of  Hercules  accompanied  by 
his  spoils  of  victory. 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
voices  its  exultant  joy  over  this  glad 
and  unexpected  news. 


filled  by  the  chorus  proper,  composed 
of  Aetolian  maidens,  is  taken  by  the 
band  of  captive  Occhalian  maidens. 
They  bewail  their  lot  and  long  for 
death;  they  dwell  upon  the  utter 
desolation  of  their  fatherland,  and 
upon  the  hard  hearledness  of  Hercules 
who  has  laid  it  waste. 

Iole,  their  princess,  joins  in  their 
lamentations,  recalls  the  horrors  of 
her  native  city's  overthrow,  and 
looks  forward  with  dread  to  her  cap- 
tivity. 

First  episode. — During  the  interval 
just  preceding  this  episode,  the  cap- 
tives have  been  led  to  Trachin,  Deia- 
nira has  seen  the  beauty  of  Iole,  and 
learned  of  Hercules'  infatuation  for 
her.  She  has  by  this  news  been 
thrown  into  a  mad  rage  of  jealousy, 
and  counsels  with  her  nurse  as  to  how 
she  may  take  vengeance  upon  her 
faithless  husband,  while  the  nurse 
vainly  advises  moderation. 

The  nurse  at  last  suggests  recourse 
to  magic,  professing  herself  to  be  pro- 
ficient in  these  arts.  This  suggests  to 
Deianira  the  use  of  that  blood  of  Nes- 
sus  which  the  dying  centaur  had  com- 
mended to  her  as  an  infallible  love- 
charm.  She  takes  occasion  to  relate 
at  length  the  Nessus  incident.  She 
at  once  acts  upon  her  decision  to  use 
the  charm;  and  speedily,  with  the 
nurse's  aid,  a  gorgeous  robe  is  anointed 
with  the  blood,  and  this  is  sent  by 
Lichas'  hand  to  Hercules. 

First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
of  Aetolian  women,  who  have  followed 
Deianira  from  her  girlhood's  home  to 
this  refuge  in  Trachin,  now  tender 
to  her  their  sympathy  in  her  present 
sufferings.     They  recall  all  their  past 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas        481 


Second  episode. — Lichas,  the  per- 
sonal herald  of  Hercules,  now  enters, 
followed  by  Iole  and  a  company  of 
captive  women.  He  explains  to 
Deianira  how  Hercules  had  been 
driven  on  by  petty  persecutions  to 
slay  Iphitus,  the  son  of  Eurytus, 
treacherously;  how  he  had  for  this 
been  doomed  by  Zeus  to  seive  Om- 
phale,  queen  of  Lydia,  for  a  year;  and 
how  in  revenge  he  has  now  slain 
Eurytus,  and  even  now  is  sending 
home  these  Oechalian  captives  as 
spoil;  Hercules  himself  is  delaying 
yet  a  little  while  in  Euboea,  until  he- 
has  sacrificed  to  Cenaean  Jove. 

Deianira  looks  in  pity  upon  the 
captives  praying  that  their  lot  may 
never  come  to  her  or  hers;  and  is 
especially  drawn  in  sympathy  to  one 
beautiful  girl,  who,  however,  will 
answer  no  word  as  to  her  name  and 
state. 

As  all  are  passing  into  the  palace, 
the  messenger  detains  Deianira  and 
tells  her  the  real  truth  which  Lichas 
has  withheld:  that  this  seemingly 
unknown  girl  is  Iole,  daughter  of 
Eurytus;  that  it  was  not  in  revenge 
but  for  love  of  Iole  that  Hercules 
destroyed  her  father's  house,  and 
that  he  is  now  sending  her  to  his  own 


intercourse  with  her,  and  assure  her 
of  their  undying  fidelity. 

This  suggests  the  rarity  of  such 
fidelity  especially  in  the  courts  of 
kings,  and  they  discourse  at  large  upon 
the  sordidness  and  selfishness  of  court- 
iers in  general.  The  moral  of  their 
discourse  is  that  men  should  not 
aspire  to  great  wealth  and  power,  but 
should  choose  a  middle  course  in 
life,  which  only  can  bring  happiness. 

Second  episode. — Deianira  comes 
hurrying  distractedly  out  of  the  palace, 
and  relates  her  discovery  as  to  the 
horrible  and  deadly  power  of  the 
charm  which  she  has  sent  to  her 
husband. 

While  she  is  still  speaking,  Hyllus 
rushes  in  and  cries  out  to  his  mother 
to  flee  from  the  wrath  of  Hercules, 
whose  dreadful  sufferings,  after  put- 
ting on  the  robe  which  his  wife  had 
sent  to  him,  the  youth  describes  at 
length.  He  narrates  also  the  death 
of  Lichas.  The  suffering  hero  is  even 
now  on  his  way  by  sea  from  Euboea, 
in  a  death-like  swoon,  and  will  soon 
arrive  at  Trachin. 

Deianira,  smitten  with  quick  repent- 
ance, begs  Jupiter  to  destroy  her  with 
his  wrathful  thunderbolts.  She  re- 
solves on  instant  self-destruct  ion, 
though  Hyllus  and  the  nurse  vainly 
try  to  dissuade  her,  and  to  belittle  her 
responsibility  for  the  disaster;  and  in 
the  end  she  rushes  from  the  scene, 
Hyllus  following. 


♦8a 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


booie  not  as  his  slaw,  hut  mistress, 
and  rival  of  his  wife. 

Lichas,  returning  from  the  palace, 
on  being  challenged  by  the  messenger 

ami  urged  by  Deianira  to  speak  tin- 
whole  truth,  tills  all  concerning  Her- 
cules1  love  for  Iole. 

Deianira  receives  this  revelation 
with  seeming  equanimity  and  acqui- 
escence. 

Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus briefly  reverts  to  the  battle  of  Ache- 
loiis  and  Hercules  for  the  hand  of 
Deianira- 


Third  episode. — Deianira  tells  to  the 
chorus  the  story  of  how  Nessus,  the 
centaur,  had  once  insulted  her,  and 
for  this  had  been  slain  by  Hercules 
with  one  of  his  poisoned  arrows;  how, 
also,  the  centaur  in  dying  had  given 
her  a  portion  of  his  blood,  saying  this 
would  be  a  charm  able  to  restore  to 
her  her  husband's  wandering  love. 
She  now  resolves  to  use  this  charm. 
She  anoints  a  gorgeous  robe  with  the 
blood  which  she  has  preserved  through 
all  these  years,  and  bids  Lichas  carry 
this  to  her  lord  as  a  special  gift  from 
her.     He  is  to  wear  it  as  he  offers  his 


Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho 
rus,  contemplating  the  changing  fates 
of  their  prince's  house,  is  reminded  of 
the  saying  of  Orpheus,  "that  naught 
for  endless  life  is  made."  This  leads 
to  an  extended  description  of  Orpheus' 
sweet  music  and  its  power  over  all 
things,  both  animate  and  inanimate, 
and  suggests  the  story  of  his  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  regain  Eurydice. 

Returning  to  the  original  theme,  the 
chorus  speculates  upon  the  time  when 
all  things  shall  fall  into  death,  and  chaos 
resume  her  primeval  sway. 

It  is  startled  out  of  these  thoughts 
by  loud  groans,  which  prove  to  be  the 
outcries  of  Hercules,  borne  home  to 
Trachin. 

Third  episode. — Hercules  in  his 
ravings  warns  Jove  to  look  well  to  his 
heavens,  since  now  their  defender  is 
perishing.  The  giants  will  be  sure 
to  rise  again  and  make  another  attempt 
upon  the  skies.  He  bitterly  laments 
that  he,  who  has  overcome  so  many 
monsters,  must  die  at  last,  slain  by  a 
woman's  hand,  and  that  woman  not 
Juno,  nor  even  an  Amazon: 

Ah,  woe  is  me, 
How  often  have  I  'scaped  a  glorious  death ! 
What  honor  comes  from  such  an  end  as  this? 

His  burning  pains  coming  on  again, 
he  cries  out  in  agony,  and  describes 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas         483 

sacrifices  to    Cenaean   Jove.     Lichas      the  abject  misery  and  weakness  that 
departs  upon  this  mission.  have  come  upon  him      Are  these  the 

shoulders,  the  hands,  the  feet,  that 
were  once  so  strong  to  bear,  so  terrible 
to  strike,  so  swift  to  go?  He  strives 
to  apprehend  and  tear  away  the  pest 
that  is  devouring  him,  but  it  is  too 
deep-hidden  in  his  frame.  He  curses 
the  day  that  has  seen  him  weep  and 
beseeches  Jove  to  smite  him  dead  with 
a  thunderbolt. 

Alcmena  enters,  and,  while  she 
herself  is  full  of  grief,  she  strives  to 
soothe  and  comfort  her  suffering  son. 
He  falls  into  a  delirium,  and  thinks 
that  he  is  in  the  heavens,  looking 
down  upon  Trachin.  But  soon  he 
awakes,  and,  realizing  his  pains  once 
more,  calls  for  the  author  of  his  misery, 
that  he  may  slay  her  with  his  own 
hands. 

Hyllus,  who  has  just  entered  from 
the  palace,  now  informs  his  father  that 
Deianira  is  already  dead,  and  by  her 
own  hand;  that  it  was  not  her  fault, 
moreover,  but  by  the  guile  of  Nessus, 
that  Hercules  is  being  done  to  death. 
The  hero  recognizes  in  this  the  fulfil- 
ment of  an  oracle  once  delivered  to 
him- 
By  the  hand  of  one  whom  thou  hast  slain, 

some  day. 
Victorious  Hrrculcs,  shah  thou  lie  low. 

And  he  comforts  himself  with  the 
reflection  that  such  an  end  as  this  is 
meet,  for 

Thus  shall  no  conqueror  of  Hercules 
Survive  to  tell  the  tale. 

He  now  bids  Philoctetes  prepare  a 
mighty  pyre  on  neighboring  Mount 
Oeta,  and  there  take  and  burn  his  body  ( 
still  in  life.  Hyllus  he  bids  to  take  the 
captive  princess,  I' •!<•,  to  wife.  He 
calls   upon   his   mother,   Alcmena,   to 


■Is! 


Tim:     Tragkdies    or    Seneca 


Thin!  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
prays  for  the  early  and  safe  return  of 

llm  ules  from  where  In-  lingers: 

Thence  may  lie  come,  yea,  come  with  strong 
desire, 
Tempered  by  suasivc  spell 
Of  that  rich  unguent,  as  the  monster  spake. 


Fourth  episode. — Dcianira  discovers 
by  experiment,  now  that  it  is  too  late, 
the  destructive  and  terrible  power  of 
the  charm  which  she  has  sent,  and  is 
filled  with  dire  forebodings  as  to  the 
result. 

Her  lamentations  are  interrupted  by 
Hyllus,  who  comes  hurrying  in;  he 
charges  his  mother  with  the  murder  of 
his  father,  and  curses  her.  He  then 
describes  the  terrible  sufferings  that 
have  come  upon  the  hero  through  the 
magic  robe,  and  how  Hercules,  in  the 
madness  of  pain,  has  slain  Lichas,  as 
the  immediate  cause  of  his  sufferings. 
He  has  brought  his  father  with  him 
from  Euboea  to  Trachin.  Deianira 
withdraws  into  the  palace,  without  a 
word,  in  an  agony  of  grief. 

Fourth  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus recalls  the  old  oracle  that  after 
twelve  years  the  son  of  Zeus  should 
gain  rest  from  toil,  and  sees  in  his 
impending  death  the  fulfilment  of 
this  oracle.  They  picture  the  grief  of 
Deianira  over  her  act,  and  foresee  the 
great  changes  that  are  coming  upon 
their  prince's  house. 


comfort  her  jjrief  by  pride  in  her  f^rcat 
son's  deeds  on  earth,  and  the  noble 
fame  which  he  has  gained  thereby. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
bids  all  nature  mourn  the  death  of 
Hercules.  Verily  the  earth  is  bereft  of 
her  defender,  and  there  is  no  one  left  to 
whom  she  may  turn  if  again  harassed 
by  monsters.  They  speculate  upon 
the  place  of  the  departed  Hercules. 
Shall  he  sit  in  judgment  among  the 
pious  kings  of  Crete  in  hades,  or  shall 
he  be  given  a  place  in  heaven  ?  At 
least  on  earth  he  shall  live  in  deathless 
gratitude  and  fame. 


Seneca  and  the  Greek  Dramas 


485 


Fijth  episode. — The  nurse  rushes  in 
from  the  palace,  and  tells  how  Deianira 
has  slain  herself  with  the  sword,  be- 
wailing the  while  the  sufferings  which 
she  has  unwittingly  brought  on  Her- 
cules; and  how  Hyllus  repents  him  of 
his  harshness  toward  his  mother, 
realizing  that  she  was  not  to  blame. 

Fijth  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
pours  out  its  grief  for  the  double 
tragedy.  And  now  it  sees  Hyllus  and 
attendants  bearing  in  the  dying 
Hercules. 

Exode. — Hercules,  awaking  from 
troubled  sleep,  laments  the  calamity 
that  has  befallen  him;  he  chides  the 
lands  which  he  has  helped,  that  now 
they  do  not  hasten  to  his  aid;  and 
prays  Hyllus  to  kill  him  with  the 
-word,  and  so  put  him  out  of  his 
misery. 

He  denounces  Deianira  because  she 
has  brought  suffering  and  destruction 
upon  him  which  no  foe,  man  or  beast, 
has  ever  been  able  to  bring.  He  curs- 
es his  own  weakness,  and  laments  that 
he  must  weep  and  groan  like  a 
woman. 

He  marvels  that  his  mighty  frame, 
which  for  years  has  withstood  so  many 
monsters,  which  he  recounts  at  length, 
can  now  be  so  weak  and  wasted. 
Reverting  to  his  wife,  he  bids  that 
she  be  brought  to  him  that  he  may 
visit  punishment  upon  her. 
•  Mlyllus  informs  his  father  that  De- 
ianira has  died  by  her  own  hand,  for 
grief  at  what  she  has  unwittingly 
brought  upon  her  dear  lord.  It  was, 
indeed,  through  Nessus'  guile  that  the 
deed  was  done. 

Hercules,  on  hearing  this,  recogniz- 
es the  fulfilment  of  the  oracle; 


Exode. — Philoctetes  enters,  and,  in 
response  to  the  questions  of  the  nurse, 
describes  the  final  scene  on  Oeta's  top. 
There  a  mighty  pyre  is  built,  on 
which  Hercules  joyfully  takes  his 
place.  There  he  reclines,  gazing  at 
the  heavens,  and  praying  his  father, 
Jupiter,  to  take  him  thither,  in  com 
pensation  for  his  service  on  the  earth. 
His  prayer  seems  to  be  answered,  and 
he  cries  aloud: 

"But  lo,  my  father  calls  me  from  the  sky, 
And  opens  wide  the  gates.     O  sire,  I  come!" 
And  as  he  spake  his  face  was  glorified. 

He  presents  his  famous  bow  and 
armws  to  Philoctetes,  bidding  him 
for  this  prize  apply  the  torch  and  light 
the  pyre,  which  his  friend  most  rehh  - 
tantly  does.  The  hero  courts  the 
flames,  and  eagerly  presses  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  burning  mass. 

In  the  midst  of  this  narrative,  Alc- 
mena  enters,  bearing  in  her  bosom  an 
urn  containing  the  ashes  of  Hercules. 
The  burden  of  her  lament  is  thai 
small  a  compass  and  so  pitiful  estate 
have  come  to  the  mighty  body  of  her 
son,  which  one  small  urn  ran  hold. 
But  when  she  thinks  upon  his  deed-., 
her  thoughts  fly  to  the  opposite  pole: 


486 


The    Tragedies     of    Seneca 


Long  tutce  it  mi  r<  veiled  of  my  sire 

That  I  should  die  1>\  hand  of  none  that  live. 

Hut  one  who,  dead,  had  dwelt  in  hadea  <lark. 
He  exacts  an  oath  of  obedience  from 

1 1 \  11  us,  and  then  l>i<ls  him  bring  his 
father  to  Mount  Oeta,  and  there  place 
him  upon  a  pyre  for  burning.  Hyllus 
reluctantly  consents  in  all  hut  the 
actual  tiring  of  the  pyre.  The  next 
request  is  concerning  Iole,  that  Hyllus 
should  take  her  as  his  wife.  This 
mandate  he  indignantly  refuses  to 
obey,  but  finally  yields  assent.  And 
in  the  end  Hercules  is  borne  away  to 
his  burning,  while  the  chorus  mourn- 
fully chants  its  concluding  comment: 

What  comcth  no  man  may  know; 
What  is,  is  piteous  for  us, 
Base  and  shameful  for  them; 

And  for  him  who  endureth  this  woe, 
Above  all  that  live  hard  to  bear. 


What  lepulcher,  <>  son,  what  tomb  for  thee 
Is   great  enough?     Naught  save    the    world  it- 

self. 

Then  she  takes  up  in  quickened 
measures  her  funeral  song  of  mourning, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  deified 
1  [ercules, taking  shape  in  the  air  above, 
speaks  to  his  mother,  bidding  her  no 
longer  mourn,  for  he  has  at  last  gained 
his  place  in  heaven. 

The   chorus   strikes   a   fitting   final 

note,    that    the   truly    brave    are    not 

destined  to  the  world  below: 

But  when  life's  days  are  all  consumed, 
And  comes  the  final  hour,  for  them 
A  pathway  to  the  gods  is  spread 
By  glory. 


THE  TROADES  OF  EURIPIDES,  AND  THE  TROADES  OF  SENECA 


Prologue. — Neptune  appearing  from 
the  depths  of  the  sea,  briefly  recounts 
the  story  of  the  overthrow  of  Troy, 
which  he  laments,  states  the  present 
situation  of  the  Trojan  women,  dwells 
upon  the  especial  grief  of  Hecuba, 
and  places  the  blame  for  all  this  ruin 
upon  Minerva: 

But,  oh  my  town,  once  flourishing,  once 
crowned 

With  beauteous-structured  battlements,  fare- 
well! 

Had  not  Minerva  sunk  thee  in  the  dust. 

On  thy  firm  base  e'en  now  thou  mightst  have 
stood. 

To  him  appears  Minerva,  who, 
though  she  had  indeed  helped  the 
Greeks  to  their  final  triumph  over 
Troy,  had  been  turned  against  them 
by  the  outrage  of  Cassandra  on  the 
night  of  Troy's  overthrow.  She  now 
makes  common  cause  with  Neptune, 


Prologue. — Hecuba  bewails  the  fall 

of  Troy,  and  draws  from  it  a  warning 

to  all  who  are  high  in  power: 

For  of  a  truth  did  fortune  never  show 
In  plainer  wise  the  frailty  of  the  prop 
That  doth  support  a  king. 

She  graphically  describes  the  mighty 
power  and  mighty  fall  of  her  husband's 
kingdom,  and  portrays  the  awe  with 
which  the  Greeks  behold  even  their 
fallen  foe.  She  asserts  that  the  fire  by 
which  her  city  has  been  consumed 
sprang  from  her,  the  brand  that  she 
had  dreamed  of  in  her  dream  before 
the  birth  of  Paris.  She  dwells  hor- 
ribly upon  the  death  of  Priam  which 
she  had  herself  witnessed. 
But  still  the  heavenly  powers  are  not  appeased. 
The  captives  are  to  be  allotted  to  the 
Greek  chiefs,  and  even  now  the  urn 
stands  ready  for  the  lots. 


S  E  NE  CA   AND   THE   GREEK   DRAMAS 


■ls7 


and  plans  for  the  harassing  of  the 
Greek  fleet  by  storm  and  flood  on  the 
homeward  voyage.  The  Greeks  are 
to  be  taught  a  lesson  of  reverence: 

t'nwise  is  he,  whoe'er  of  mortals  storms 
Beleaguered    towns,    and    crushed    in    ruins 

wastes 
The  temples  of  the  gods,  the  hallowed  tombs 
Where  sleep  the  dead;  for  he  shall  perish  soon. 

[The  two  gods  disappear.] 
Hecuba,  lying  prone  upon  the 
ground  before  Agamemnon's  tent, 
gives  voice  to  her  sufferings  of  body 
and  of  spirit;  laments  her  accumu- 
lated losses  of  home,  friends,  station, 
liberty;  blames  Helen  for  all,  and 
calls  upon  the  chorus  of  captive 
women  to  join  her  in  lamentation. 

Parade,  or  chorus  entry. — The  chorus 
with  Hecuba  indulges  in  speculation 
as  to  the  place  of  their  future  home, 
speaking  with  hope  of  some  Greek 
lands,  and  deprecating  others. 

First  episode. — Talthybius,  the  hcr- 
ald,  enters  and  announces  that  the 
lots  have  been  drawn,  and  reveals  to 
each  captive  her  destined  lord:  that 
Cassandra  has  fallen  to  Agamemnon, 
Andromache  to  Pyrrhus,  Hecuba  to 
Ulysses.  At  news  of  this  her  fate, 
Hecuba  is  filled  with  fresh  lamenta- 
tions, counting  it  an  especial  hardship 
that  she  should  fall  to  the  arch-enemy 
of  her  race.  The  herald  also  darkly 
alludes  to  the  already  accomplished 
fate  of  Polyxena, 
At  the  tomb  raised  to  At  hides  doomed  to 

Hecuba   does    not    as    yet    catch    the 

import  of  these  word-. 

Cassandra  no  w  enters,  waving  a 
t  orch,  and  celebrates  in  a  mad  refrain 
her  approaching  union  with  Agamem- 


Hecuba  next  calls  upon  the  chorus 
of  Trojan  women  to  join  her  in  lament- 
ing their  fallen  heroes,  Hector  and 
Priam. 


Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  cho- 
rus, under  the  direction  of  Hecuba  as 
chorus  leader,  in  true  oriental  fashion, 
bewails  the  downfall  of  Troy,  and  in 
] (articular  the  death  of  Priam  and 
Hector. 

First  episode. — Talthybius  announ- 
ces that  the  shade  of  Achilles  has  ap- 
peared with  the  demand  that  Polyxena 
be  sacrificed  upon  the  hero's  tomb. 

Enter  Pyrrhus  and  Agamemnon, 
the  former  demanding  that  his  father's 
request  be  carried  out,  the  latter  resist- 
ing the  demand  as  too  barbarous  to  be 
entertained^  It  is  finally  agreed  to 
leave  the  decision  to  Calchas.  He  is 
accordingly  summoned,  and  at  once 
dei  lares  that  only  by  the  death  of  the 
maiden  can  the  Greeks  be  allowed 
to  set  sail  for  home.  And  not  this 
alone,  but  Astyanax  also  must  In- 
sacrificed — hurled  from  the  lofty 
Scacan  tower  of  Troy. 


♦88 


The    Tragedies    of     Seneca 


non.  Elecuba  remonstrates  with  ber 
fur  ber  unseemly  joy;  whereupon 
Cassandra  declares  thai  sin-  rejoices 
in  the  prospect  <>f  the  vengeant  e  upon 
Agamemnon  which  is  to  be  wrought 
out  through  this  union.  She  contrasts 
the  lot  of  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  dur- 
ing the  past  ten  years,  and  finds  that 
the  latter  have  been  far  happier;  and 
even  in  her  fall,  the  woes  of  Troy  are 
far  less  than  those  that  await  the 
(  in  ck  chieftains.  She  then  prophesies 
in  detail  the  trials  that  await  Ulysses, 
and  the  dire  result  of  her  union  with 
Agamemnon: 

Thou  shalt  bear  me 
A  fury,  an  Krinys  bom  this  land. 

Hecuba  here  falls  in    a  faint,  and, 

upon   being    revived,   again  recounts 

her  former  high  estate,  sadly  contrasts 

with  that  her  present  condition,  and 

shudders  at  the  lot  of  the  slave  which 

awaits  her: 

Then  deem  not  of  the  great 
Now  flourishing  as  happy,  ere  they  die. 

I'irst  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
graphically  describes  the  wooden 
horse,  its  joyful  reception  by  the  Tro- 
jans into  the  city,  their  sense  of  relief 
from  danger,  and  their  holiday  spirit; 
and  at  last  their  horrible  awakening  to 
death  at  the  hands  of  the  Greeks  with- 
in the  walls. 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
maintains  that  all  perishes  with  the 
body;  the  soul  goes  out  into  nothing- 
ness: 

For  when  within  the  tomb  we're  laid, 

No  soul  remains,  no  ho v 'ring  shade. 

Like  curling  smoke,  like  clouds  before  the 

blast, 
This  animating  spirit  soon  has  passed. 

The  evident  purpose  of  these  consider- 
ations is  to  discount  the  story  that 
Achilles'  shade  could  have  appeared 
with  its  demand  for  the  death  of  Polyx- 
ena. 

Second  episode. — The  appearance  of  Second   episode. — -Andromache    ap- 

Andromache    with    Astyanax    in  her  pears  with  Astyanax  and  recounts  a 

arms,  borne  captive  on  a  Grecian  car,  vision  of  Hector  which  she  has  had,  in 

is    a    signal    for    general    mourning.  which  her  dead  husband  has  warned 


Seneca    and    the    Greek    Dramas 


489 


She  announces  her  own  chief  cause  of 

woe: 

I,  with  my  child,  am  led  away,  the  si>oil 
Of  war;  th'  illustrious  progeny  of  kinns, 
Oh,  fatal  change,  ia  sunk  to  slavery. 

Her  next  announcement  comes  as  a 
still  heavier  blow  to  Hecuba: 

Polyzena,  thy  daughter,  is  no  more; 
•    Devoted  to  Achilles,  on  his  tomb, 

An  offering  to  the  lifeless  dead,  she  fell. 

Andromache  insists  that  Polyxena's 

fate  is  happier  than  her  own;   argues 

that    in    death    there    is   no   sense  of 

misery: 

Polyzena  is  dead,  and  of  her  ills 
Knows  nothing; 

while  Andromache  still  lives  to  feel 
the  keen  contrast  between  her  former 
and  her  present  lot. 

Hecuba  is  so  sunk  in  woe  that  she 
can  make  no  protest,  but  advises 
Andromache  to  forget  the   past   and 

honor  thy  present  lord. 
And  with  thy  gentle  manners  win  his  soul; 

this  with  the  hope  that  she  may  be 
the  better  able  to  rear  up  Astyanax  to 
establish  once  more  some  day  the 
walls  and  power  of  Troy. 

But  the  heaviest  stroke  is  yet  to  fall. 
Talthybius  now  enters  and  annou 
with  much  reluctance  that  Ulysses 
has  prevailed  up>n  the  (ireeks  to  de- 
mand the  death  <>\  Astyanax  for  the 
very  reason  that  he  may  grow  up  to 
renew  the  Trojan  war.  The  lad  is  to 
be  hurled  from  a  still  standing  tower 
of  Troy.  The  herald  warns  Andro- 
mai  he  that  if  she  resist  this  mandate- 
she  may  be  endangering  the  boy's 
funeral  rites.  She  yields  to  fate,  pas- 
sionately caressing  the  boy,  who  <  lini^s 
fearfully  to  her,  partly  realizing  his 
terrible  situation.     The  emotional  cli- 


her  to  hide  the  boy  away  beyond  the 
reach  of  threatening  danger.  After 
discussion  with  an  old  man  as  to  tin- 
best  place  of  concealment,  she  hides 
Astyanax  in  Hector's  tomb  which  is 
in  the  near  background. 

Enter  Ulysses,  who  reluctantly  an- 
nounces that  Calchas  has  warned  the 
Greeks  that  they  must  not  allow  the 
son  of  Hector  to  grow  to  manhood; 
for  if  they  do  so,  the  reopening  of  the 
Trojan  war  will  be  only  a  matter  of 
time,  and  the  work  will  have  to  be  done 
all    over    again.     He    therefore    asks 
Andromache  to  give   up   the   boy  to 
him.     Then    ensues    a    war    of    wits 
between  the  desperate  mother  and  the 
crafty    Greek.     She    affects    not    to 
know   where   the  boy  is — he  is  lost. 
But  if  she  knew,  no  power  on  earth 
should  take  him  from  her.     Ulysses 
thread  as  death,  which  she  welcomes; 
he  threatens  torture,  which  she-  scorns. 
She    at    last    states    that    her    son    is 
'^among  the  dead."     Ulysses,  taking 
these    words   at    their   face    meaning, 
starts  off  gladly  to  tell  the  news  to  tin- 
Greeks,  but  suddenly  reflects  that  he 
has  no  proof  but   the  mother's  word. 
He  then  fore  begins  to  watch  Andro- 
mache more  narrowly,  and  discovers 
that  her  bearing  is  not  that  of  one  who 
has  put  her  grief  behind   her,   but  of 
one  who  is  still  in  suspense  and  fear. 
To  test  her,  he  suddenly  calls  to  his 
attendants     to     hunt     out     the     boy. 
king  beyond  her  he  ( Ties:    "Good! 
he's  found!  bring  him  to  me."    Where- 
at    Andromache's     agitation     proves 
that  the  boy  is  indeed  not  dead  but  in 
hiding.      Where    is   he    hid?      IT 
fori  es  her  to  choose  between  the  living 
boy  and  the  dead  husband;  for,  unless 
her    son     is    forthcoming,     Hector's 


400 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


max  of  the  play  is  reached,  as  she 
says  to  the  dinging,  frightened  lad: 

Why  (lost  thou  clasp  mc  with  thy  hands,  why 

hold 
My  robes,  anil  iheltei  thee  beneath  my  wings 
Like  a  young  bird  ? 

She  bitterly  upbraids  the  Greeks  for 

their  cruelty,  and  curses  Helen  as  the 
cause  of  all  her  woe,  and  then  gives 
the  boy  up  in  an  abandonment  of 
defiant  grief: 

Here,  take  him,  bear  him,  hurl  him  from  the 

height. 
If  ye  must  hurl  him;   feast  upon  his  flesh: 
For  from  the  gods  hath  ruin  fall'n  on  us. 

And  now  what  more  can  happen  ? 
Surely  the  depth  of  misfortune  has 
been  sounded.  In  the  voice  of  Hecu- 
ba: 

Is  there  an  ill 
Wc  have  not  ?     What  is  wanting  to  the  woes 
Which  all  the  dreadful  band  of  ruin  brings? 

Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus first  tells  of  the  former  fall  of  Troy 
under  Hercules  and  Telamon;  and 
then  refers  to  the  high  honors  that  had 
come  to  the  city  through  the  trans- 
lation of  Ganymede  to  be  the  cupbearer 
of  Jove,  and  through  the  special  grace 
of  Venus.  But  these  have  not  availed 
to  save  the  city  from  its  present  de- 
struction. 

Third  episode. — Menelaiis  appears, 
announcing  that  the  Greeks  have  al- 
lotted to  him  Helen,  his  former  wife, 
the  cause  of  all  this  strife,  to  do  with 
as  he  will.  He  declares  his  intention 
to  take  her  to  Greece,  and  there  destroy 
her  as  a  warning  to  faithless  wives. 

Hecuba  applauds  this  decision,  and 

thinks  that    at    last  heaven  has  sent 

justice  to  the  earth: 

Dark  thy  ways 
And  silent  are  thy  steps  to  mortal  man; 
Yet  thou  with  justice  all  things  dost  ordain. 


tomb  will  be  invaded  and  his  ashes 
scattered     upon     the     sea.     To     her 
frantic  prayer  for  mercy  he  says: 
Bring  forth  the  boy — and  pray. 

Follows  a  canticum,  in  which  Andro- 
mache brings  Astyanax  out  of  the 
tomb  and  sets  him  in  Ulysses'  sight: 

Here,  here's  the  terror  of  a  thousand  ships  I 
and  prays  him  to  spare  the  child. 
Ulysses  refuses,  and,  after  allowing  the 
mother  time  for  a  passionate  and 
pathetic  farewell  to  her  son,  he  leads 
the  boy  away  to  his  death. 


Second  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus discusses  the  various  places  to 
which  it  may  be  its  misfortune  to  be 
carried  into  captivity.  It  professes 
a  willingness  to  go  anywhere  but  to 
the  homes  of  Helen,  Agamemnon,  and 
Ulysses. 


Third  episode. — Helen  approaches 
the  Trojan  women,  saying  that  she 
has  been  sent  by  the  Greeks  to  deck 
Polyxena  for  marriage  with  Pyrrhus, 
this  being  a  ruse  to  trick  the  girl  into 
an  unresisting  preparation  for  her 
death.  This  news  Polyxena,  though 
mute,  receives  with  horror. 

Andromache  bitterly  cries  out  upon 
Helen  and  her  marriages  as  the  cause 
of  all  their  woe.  But  Helen  puts  the 
whole  matter  to  this  test: 


Seneca    and   the    Greek    Dramas 


49 1 


Helen,  dragged  forth  from  the  tent  at 
the  command  of  Menelaus,  pleads 
her  cause.  She  lays  the  blame  for  all 
upon  Hecuba  and  Priam: 

She  first,  then,  to  these  ills 
Gave  liirth,  when  she  gave  Paris  birth;    and 

next 
The  aged  Priam  ruined  Troy  and  thee, 
The  infant  not  destroying,  at  his  birth 
Denounced  a  baleful  firebrand. 

Blame  should  also  fall  upon  Venus, 
since  through  her  influence  Helen 
came  into  the  power  of  Paris. 

Hecuba  refutes  the  excuses  of  Helen. 
She  scouts  the  idea  that  Venus  brought 
Paris  to  Sparta.  The  only  Venus  that 
had  influenced  Helen  was  her  own 
passion  inflamed  by  the  beauty  of 
Paris: 

My  son  was  with  surpassing  beauty  graced; 
And   thy   fond   passion,   when   he  struck   thy 

sight. 
Became  a  Venus. 

As  for  the  excuse  that  she  was  borne 
away  by  force,  no  Spartan  was  aware 
of  that,  no  cries  were  heard.  Hecuba 
ends  by  urging  Menelaus  to  carry  out 
his  threat.  This,  he  repeats,  it  is  his 
purpose  to  do. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sadly  recalls  the  sacred  rites  in  Troy 
and  within  the  forests  of  Mount  Ida, 
and  grieves  that  these  shall  be  no  more. 
They  lament  the  untimely  death  of 
their  warrior  husbands,  whose  bodies 
have  not  received  proper  burial  rites, 
and  whose  souls  are  wandering  in  the 
spirit-world,  while  they,  the  hapless 
wives,  must  wander  over  sea  to  foreign 
homes.  They  pray  that  storms  may 
come  and  overwhelm  the  ships,  and 
especially  that  Helen  may  not  live  to 
reach  the  land  again. 

l.xode. — Enter     Tallhybius,      with 


Count  this  true, 
If  'twas  a  Spartan  vessel  brought  me  here. 

Under  the  pointed  questions  of  Andro- 
mache she  gives  up  deception,  and 
frankly  states  the  impending  doom  of 
Polyxena  to  be  slaughtered  on  Achilles' 
tomb,  and  so  to  be  that  hero's  spirit 
bride.  At  this  the  girl  shows  signs  of 
joy,  and  eagerly  submits  herself  to 
Helen's  hands  to  be  decked  for  the 
sacrificial  rite. 

Hecuba  cries  out  at  this,  and 
laments  her  almost  utter  childlessness; 
but  Andromache  envies  the  doomed 
girl  her  fate. 

Helen  then  informs  the  women  that 
the  lots  have  been  drawn  and  their 
future  lords  determined;  Andromache 
is  to  be  given  to  Pyrrhus,  Cassandra 
to  Agamemnon,  Hecuba  to  Ulysses. 

Pyrrhus  now  appears  to  conduct 
Polyxena  to  her  death,  and  is  bitterly 
scorned  and  cursed  by  Hecuba. 


Third  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
enlarges  upon  the  comfort  of  company 
to  those  in  grief.  Hitherto  they  have 
had  this  comfort;  but  now  they  are  to 
be  scattered,  and  each  must  sutler 
alone.  And  soon,  as  they  sail  away, 
they  must  take  their  last,  sad  view  of 
Troy,  now  but  a  smouldering  heap; 
and  mother  to  child  will  say,  as  she 
points  back  to  the  shore: 

See,    there's    our     Troy,    where    smoke    curls 

high  in  air. 
And   thick,   dark   clouds  obscure   the   distant 

sky. 

Exode. — The  messenger  relate-  with 


40  ? 


T  n  e    T  r  a  g  e  i '  1  i  ■  s    op    Seneca 


the  dead  body  of  Vstyanax  borne  upon 
the  shield  of  Sector.  He  explains 
thai  Pyrrhus  has  hastened  home, 
summoned  by  news  of  insurrection  in 

his  own  kingdom,  and  has  taken  Andro- 
mache with  him.  He  delivers  Andro- 
mache's  request  to  Hecuba  that  she 
gi\r  the  boy  proper  burial,  and  use  the 

hollow  shield  as  a  casket  for  the  dead. 
HeCUba    and     the    Chorus    together 

weep  over  the  shield,  which  recalls 
Hector  in  his  days  of  might,  and  over 
the  poor,  bruised  body  of  tin-  dead  boy, 
sadly  contrasting  his  former  beauty 
with  this  mangled  form.  They  then 
wrap  it  in  such  costly  wrappings  as 
their  slate  allows,  place  h;m  upon  the 
shield,  and  consign  him  to  the  tomb. 
Talthybius  then  orders  bands  of  men 
witli  torches  to  burn  the  remaining 
buildings  of  Troy;  and  in  the  light  of 
its  glaring  flames  and  with  the  crashing 
sound  of  its  falling  walls  in  their  ears, 
Hecuba  and  her  companions  make 
their  way  to  the  waiting  ships,  while 
the  messenger  urges  on  their  lagging 
steps. 


in u.  h  detail  to  Hecuba,  Andromache, 
and  the  rest,  the  circumstances  of  the 

death    of    Astyanax    and    Polyxena: 

how  crowds  of  Greeks  and  Trojans 
witnessed  both  tragedies,  how  both 
sides  were  moved  to  tears  at  the  sad 
sight,  and  how  both  victims  nut  their 
death  as  became  their  noble  birth. 

Andromache  bewails  and  denounces 
the  cruel  death  of  her  son,  and  sadly 
asks  that  his  body  be  g'ven  her  for 
burial;  but  she  is  told  that  this  is 
mangled  past  recognition. 

But  Hecuba,  having  now  drained 
her  cup  of  sorrow  to  the  dregs,  has  no 
more  wild  cries  to  utter;  she  almost 
calmly  bids  the  Grecians  now  set  sail, 
since  nothing  bars  their  way.  She 
longs  for  death,  complaining  that  it 
ever  flees  from  her,  though  she  has 
often  been  so  near  its  grasp. 

The  messenger  interrupts,  and  bids 
them  hasten  to  the  shore  and  board 
the  ships,  which  wait  only  their  coming 
to  set  sail. 


THE  AGAMEMNON   OF  AESCHYLUS,   AND   THE  AGAMEMNON 

OF   SENECA 


Prologue. — A  watchman,  stationed 
upon  the  palace  roof  at  Argos,  laments 
the  tedium  of  his  long  and  solitary 
task;  and  prays  for  the  time  to  come 
when,  through  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  he  shall  see  the  distant  flashing 
of  the  beacon  fire,  and  by  this  sign 
know  that  Troy  has  fallen  and  that 
Agamemnon  is  returning  home.  And 
suddenly  he  sees  the  gleam  for  which 
so  long  he  has  been  waiting.  He  springs 
up  with  shouts  of  joy  and  hastens 
to  tell  the    queen.    At  the  same  time 


Prologue. — The  ghost  of  Thyestes 
coming  from  the  lower  regions  recites 
the  motif  of  the  play:  how  he  had  been 
most  foully  dealt  with  by  Agamem- 
non's father,  Atreus,  and  how  he  had 
been  promised  revenge  by  the  oracle 
of  Apollo  through  his  son  Aegisthus, 
begotten  of  an  incestuous  union  with 
his  daughter.  The  ghost  announces 
that  the  time  for  his  revenge  is  come 
with  the  return  of  Agamemnon  from 
the  Trojan  war,  and  urges  Aegisthus 
to  perform  his  fated  part. 


Seneca    and    the     Greek     Dramas 


493 


he  makes  dark  reference  to  that  which 
has  been  going  on  within  the  palace, 
and  which  must  now  be  hushed  up. 

Parade,  or  chorus  entry. — A  chorus 
of  twelve  Axgive  elders  sings  of  the 
Trojan  War,  describing  the  omens 
with  which  the  Greeks  started  on  their 
mi>sion  of  vengeance.  They  dwell 
especially  upon  the  hard  fate  which 
forced  Agamemnon  to  sacrifice  his 
daughter.  And  in  this  they  un 
sciously  voice  one  of  the  motives  which 
Kd  to  the  king's  own  death. 

First  episode. — Clytemnestra  ap- 
pears with  a  Stately  procession  of  torch- 
bearers,  having  set  the  whole  city  in 
gala  attire,  with  sacrificial  incense 
burning  on  all  the  altars.  The  chorus 
asks  the  meaning  of  this.  Has  she 
had  news  from  Troy?  The  queen 
replies  that  this  very  night  she  has  had 
news,  and  describes  at  length  how  the 
signal  fires  had  gleamed,  and  thus  the 
news  had  leaped  from  height  to  height, 
all  the  long  way  from  Troy  to  Argos. 

And  this  sure  proof  and  token  now  I  tell  thee, 
Seeing  that  my  lord  hath  sent  it  me  from 
Troy. 

She  expresses  the  hope  that  the  victors 
in  their  joy  will  do  nothing  to  offend 
the  gods  and  so  prevent  their  safe  re- 
turn: 

May  good  prevail  beyond  all  doubtful  chance ! 
For  I  have  got  the  blessing  of  great  j<  ■>-. 

Willi  these  words  she  covers  up  the 
real  desires  of  her  own  false  heart, 
while  at  the  same  time  voicing  the 
principle  on  whii  h  doom  was  to  over- 
take the  Greeks. 

The  chorus  receives  Clytcmnestra's 
news  with  joy  and  prepares  to  sing 
praises  to  the  gods,  as  the  queen  with 
her  train  leaves  the  Stage. 


Parode,  or  chorus  entry. — The  chorus 
of  Argivc  women  complains  of  the 
inn  crtain  condition  of  exalted  fortune, 
and  recommends  the  golden  mean  in 
preference  to  this. 


First  episode. — Clytemnestra,  con- 
scious of  guilt,  and  fearing  that  her 
returning  husband  will  severely  punish 
her  on  account  of  her  adulterous  life 
with  Acgisthus,  resolves  to  add  crime 
to  crime  and  murder  Agamemnon 
as  soon  as  he  comes  back  to  his  home. 
She  is  further  impelled  to  this  action 
by  his  conduct  in  the  matter  of  her 
daughter,  Iphigenia,  and  by  his  own 
unfaithfulness  to  her  during  his  long 
absence.  Throughout  this  scene  the 
nurse  vainly  tries  to  dissuade  her. 

Clytemnestra  is  either  intluenced  to 
recede  from  her  purpose  by  the  nur->e, 
or  else  pretends  to  be  resolved  to  draw- 
back in  order  to  test  Aegisthus  who 
now  enters.  In  the  end,  the  tWO  «  on- 
spirators  withdraw  to  plan  their 
intended  crime. 


494 


The    T  r  a  r.  e  n  i  k  s    of    Seneca 


First  choral  interlude.— The  chorus 

sings    ill     praise    of    ZeUS,     who    lias 

signally  disproved  the  skeptic's  claim 

that 

The  kikIs  deign  no;  to  can  for  mortal  men 
Hy  whom  the  grace  of  tilings  inviolable 

Is  trampled  under  foot, 
The  shameful  guilt  of  Paris  is  de- 
scribed, the  woe  <>f  the  wronged  Mene- 
laiis,  and  the  response  of  all  Greece  to 
his  I  ry  for  vengeance.  But,  after  all,  the 
chorus  is  in  doubt  as  to  whether  the 
good  news  can  be  true — when  a  herald 
enters  with  fresh  news. 

Second  episode. — The  herald  de- 
scribes to  the  chorus  the  complete 
downfall  of  Troy,  which  came  as  a 
punishment  for  the  sin  of  Paris  and 
of  the  nation  which  upheld  him  in  it. 
At  the  same  time  the  sufferings  of  the 
Greeks  during  the  progress  of  the  war 
are  not  forgotten.  Clytemnestra,  en- 
tering, prompted  by  her  own  guilty 
conscience,  bids  the  herald  tell  Aga- 
memnon to  hasten  home,  and  take  to 
him  her  own  protestation  of  absolute 
faithfulness  to  him: 

who  has  not  broken 

One  seal  of  his  in  all  this  length  of  time. 

The  herald,  in  response  to  further 
questions  of  the  chorus,  describes  the 
great  storm  which  wrecked  the  Greek 
fleet  upon  their  homeward  voyage. 

Second  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sings  of  Helen  as  the  bane  of  the  Tro- 
jans: 

Dire    cause  of    strife  with    bloodshed  in  her 
train. 

And  now 

The  penalty  of  foul  dishonor  done 
To  friendship's  board  and  Zeus 

has  been  paid  by  Troy,  which  is  likened 
to  a   man   who  fosters  a  lion's  cub, 


First  choral  interlude. — The  chorus 
sings  in  praise  of  Apollo  for  the  victory 
over  Troy.  To  this  are  added  the 
praises  of  Juno,  Minerva,  and  Jove. 
In  the  end  the  (horns  hails  the  ap- 
proach of  the  herald  Eurybates. 


Second  episode. — Eurybates  an- 
nounces to  Clytemnestra  the  return 
and  approach  of  Agamemnon,  and 
describes  the  terrible  storm  which 
overtook  the  Greeks  upon  their  home- 
ward voyage.  At  the  command  of 
the  queen  victims  are  prepared  for 
sacrifice  to  the  gods,  and  a  banquet 
for  the  victorious  Agamemnon.  At 
last  the  captive  Trojan  women  headed 
by  Cassandra  are  seen  approaching. 


Second  choral  interlude. — A  chorus 
of  captive  Trojan  women  sings  the 
fate  and  fall  of  Troy;  while  Cassan- 
dra, seized  with  fits  of  prophetic  fury, 
prophesies  the  doom  that  hangs  over 
Agamemnon. 


Seneca    and    ttte    Greek    Dramas        495 


which  is  harmless  while  still  young,  but 
when  full  grown  "it  shows  the  nature 
of  its  sires,"  and  brings  destruction  to 
the  house  that  sheltered  it. 

Third  episode. — Agamemnon  is  seen 
approaching  in  his  chariot,  followed 
by  his  train  of  soldiers  and  captives. 
The  chorus  welcomes  him,  but  with  a 
veiled  hint  that  all  is  not  well  in  Argos. 
Agamemnon  fittingly  thanks  the  gods 
for  his  success  and  for  his  safe  return, 
and  promises  in  due  time  to  investi- 
gate affairs  at  home. 

Clytemnestra,  now  entering,  in  a 
long  speech  of  fulsome  welcome, 
describes  the  grief  which  she  has 
endured  for  her  lord's  long  absence  in 
the  midst  of  perils,  and  protests  her 
own  absolute  faithfulness  to  him. 
She  explains  the  absence  of  Orestes 
by  saying  that  she  has  intrusted  him  to 
Strophius,  king  of  Phocis,  to  be  cared 
for  in  the  midst  of  the  troublous  times. 
She  concludes  with  the  ambiguous 
prayer: 

Ah  Zeus,  work  out  for  me 
All  that  I  pray  for;   let  it  be  thy  care 
To  look  to  that  thou  purposest  to  work. 

Agamemnon,  after  briefly  referring 
to  Cassandra  and  bespeaking  kindly 
treatment  for  her,  goes  into  the  pahv  e, 
accompanied    by    Clytemnestra. 

Third  choral  interlude. — The  cho- 
rus, though  it  sees  with  its  own 
that  all  is  well  with  Agamemnon,  that 
he  is  returned  in  safety  to  his  own 
home,  is  filled  with  sad  forebodings  of 
some  hovering  evil  which  it  cannot 
dispel. 

Exode. — Clytemnestra  returns  and 
bids  Cassandra,  who  still  remains 
standing  in   her  chariot,   t<>  join   the 


Third  episode. — Agamemnon  comes 
upon  the  scene,  and,  meeting  Cas- 
sandra, is  warned  by  her  of  the  fate 
that  hangs  over  him;    but  she  is  not 

believed. 


Third  choral  interlude. — Apropos  of 
the  fall  of  Troy,  the  i  horus  of  Argive 
women  sings  the  praises  of  Hercules 
whose  arrows  had  been  required  by 
fate  for  the  destruction  of  Troy. 


Exode. — Cassandra,  either  standing 
where  she  can  see  within  the  palace, 
or  else  by  clairvoyant  power,   reports 


496 


T  ii  k    Tragedies     of    Seneca 


other  slaves  in  ministering  at  the  altar. 
Hut  Cassandra  stands  motionless, 
paying  no  heed  to  the  words  of  the 
queen,  who  leaves  tin-  scene  saying: 

I  will  DOl  beat  tlu-  shame-  of  uttering  more. 

Cassandra  now  descends  from  her 
c  hariot  and  hursts  into  wild  and  woeful 
lamentations.  By  her  peculiar  clair- 
voyant power  she  foresees  and  declares 
to  tin-  chorus  the  death  of  Agamemnon 
at  the  hands  of  Clytemnestra  and 
Aegisthus,  as  well  as  the  manner  of  it; 
she  also  foretells  the  vengeance  which 
Orestes  is  destined  to  work  upon  the 
murderers.  I  Icr  own  fate  is  as  clearly 
seen  and  announced,  as  she  passes 
through  the  door  into  the  palace. 

Soon  the  chorus  hears  the  death  cry 
of  Agamemnon,  that  he  is  "struck 
down  with  deadly  stroke."  They  are 
faint-heartedly  and  with  a  multiplicity 
of  counsel  discussing  what  it  is  best  to 
do  when  Clytemnestra,  with  blood- 
stained garments  and  followed  by  a 
guard  of  soldiers,  enters  to  them  from 
the  palace.  The  corpses  of  Agamem- 
non and  Cassandra  are  seen  through 
the  door  within  the  palace.  The 
queen  confesses,  describes,  and  exults 
in  the  murder  of  her  husband.  The 
chorus  makes  elaborate  lamentation 
for  Agamemnon,  and  prophesies  that 
vengeance  will  light  on  Clytemnestra. 
But  she  scorns  their  threatening 
prophecies.  In  the  end  Aegisthus 
enters,  avowing  that  he  has  plotted 
this  murder  and  has  at  last  avenged 
his  father,  Thyestes,  upon  the  father 
of  Agamemnon,  Atreus,  who  had  so 
foully  wronged  Thyestes.  The  chorus 
curses  him  and  reminds  him  that 
Orestes  still  lives  and  will  surely 
avenge  his  father. 


the  murder  of  Agamemnon,  which  is 
being  done  within. 

Electra  urges  Orestes  to  Bee  before 
his  mother  and  Aegisthus  shall 
murder  him  also.  Very  opportunely, 
Strophius  comes  in  his  chariot,  just 
returning  as  victor  from  the  Olympic 
games.  Electra  intrusts  her  brother 
to  his  care,  and  betakes  her  own  self 
to  the  altar  for  protection. 

Electra,  after  defying  and  denoun- 
cing her  mother  and  Aegisthus,  is 
dragged  away  to  prison  and  torture, 
and  Cassandra  is  led  out  to  her  death. 


INDEX 


[NDEX  OF   MYTHOLOGICAL  SUBJECTS 


[References  are  to  the  lines  of  the  Latin  text.  If  the  passage  is  longer  than  one  line,  only 
the  first  line  is  cited.  Line  citations  to  passages  of  especial  importance  t<>  the  subject  under 
discussion  are  starred.  A  few  historical  characters  from  the  Oclaina  arc  included  in  the  Index. 
The  names  of  the  characters  appearing  in  these  tragedies  are  printed  in  large  capitals,  with  the 
name  of  the  tragedy  in  which  the  character  occurs  following  in  parentheses. 1 


Absyrtus,  a  son  of  Aeetes,  and 
brother  of  Medea.  Medea,  fleeing 
with  Jason  from  Colchis,  slew  her 
brother  and  scattered  his  mangled 
remains  behind  her,  in  order  to 
retard    her   father's    pursuit,    Med. 

121,  125,  *I3I.  452»  473.  9"5  his 
dismembered  ghost  appears  to  the 
distracted  Medea,  ibid.  963. 

Abyla,  see  Calpe. 

Acastus,  son  of  Pelias,  king  of 
Thessalv.  He  demands  Jason  and 
Medea  from  Creon,  king  of  Cor- 
inth, for  vengeance  on  account  of 
the  murder  of  his  father  through  the 
machinations  of  Medea,  Med.  257, 
4i5.  52i,  52°- 

Achelol'S,  the  river-god  of  the  river 
of  the  same  name.  He  fought  with 
Hercules  for  the  possession  of  Deia- 
nira,  changing  himself  into  various 
forms,  H.  Get.  *20o;  defeated  by 
Hercules,  ibid.  *495- 

Acheron,  one  of  the  rivers  of  hades, 
Thy.  17;  described  by  Theseus,  H. 
Fur.  715. 

Achilles,  son  of  Peleus  and  Thetis, 
and  one  of  the  celebrated  Greek 
heroes  in  the  Trojan  War.  He 
was  connected  by  birth  with  heaven 
(Jupiter),  the  sea  (Thetis),  and  the 
lower  world  (Aeacus),  Tro.  311; 
educated  by  Chiron,  the  centaur, 
ibid.  832;  hidden  by  his  mother 
in  the  court  of  Lvt  omedes,  king 
of  Scyros,  in  the  disguise  of  a 
girl's  garments,  in  order  to  keep 
him  from  the  war,  ibid.  213;  while 
there,  became  the  father  of  Pvrrhus 
by  Deidamia,  daughter  of  the  king, 
ibid.  342;    his  activities  in  the  early 


period  of  the  Trojan  War,  ibid.  182; 
wounds  and  cures  Telephus,  ibid. 
♦215;  overthrows  Lyrnessus  and 
Chrysa,  taking  captive  Brisels  and 
Chryse'is,  ibid.  220;  effect  of  his 
anger  on  account  of  the  loss  of 
Briseis,  ibid.  194,  318;  example  of 
the  taming  power  of  love,  Oct.  814; 
slays  Memnon  and  trembles  at  his 
own  victory,  Tro.  *239;  slays  Pen- 
thesilea,  the  Amazon,  ibid.  243; 
works  dire  havoc  among  Trojans 
in  revenge  for  death  of  Patroclus, 
Agam.  619;  slays  Hector  and  drags 
his  dead  body  around  walls  of 
Troy,  Tro.  189;  is  slain  by  Paris, 
ibid.  347;  his  ghost  appears  to  the 
Greeks  on  the  eve  of  their  home- 
ward voyage,  and  demands  the 
sacrifice  of  Polyxena  upon  his 
tomb,  ibid.  *i70. 

Actaeon,  a  grandson  of  Cadmus, 
who  accidentally  saw  Diana  bath- 
ing in  a  pool  near  Mt.  Cithaeron. 
For  this  he  was  changed  by  tin- 
angry  goddess  into  a  stag,  and  in 
this  form  was  pursued  and  slain  by 
his  own  dogs,  Oed.*  751;  Phocn.  14. 

Acte,  the  mistress  of  Nero  who  dis- 
placed Poppaca,  Oct.  195. 

Admetus,  see  Alcestis. 

Adrastus,  king  of  Argos.  He  re- 
ceived the  fugitive  Polynices  at  his 
court,  gave  him  his  daughter  in 
marriage,  and  headed  the  expedi- 
tion of  the  Seven  against  Th< 
in  order  to  reinstate  his  son-in-law 
upon  the  throne,  I'hocu.  374. 

Aeacus,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Europa, 
father  of  Peleus;  on  account  of  his 
just    government   on   earth    he    ■ 


499 


5oo 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


made  one  o!  (lie  judges  of  spirits  in 
hades,  //.  (hi.  155S;  //.  lur.  734. 
See  under  JUDGES  IN  HADES. 
A 1  BTXS,  king  of  (ok  his,  son  of 
Phoebus  and  Persa,  and  father  of 
Medea,  Med.  210;  grandeur,  ex- 
tent, and  situation  of  kingdom 
described,  ibid,  2og;  wealth  of  his 
kingdom,  ibid.  483;  had  received  a 
wonderful  gold-wrought  robe  from 
Phot  bus  as  proof  of  fatherhood; 
this  Medea  anoints  with  magic 
poison,  and  sends  to  Creiisa,  ibid. 
570;  he  was  despoiled  of  his  realm 
through  the  theft  of  the  golden 
fleece,  ibid.  913. 

Aegeus,  see  Theseus. 

AEGISTHUS  {Agamemnon),  son  of 
an  incestuous  union  between  Thy- 
estes  and  his  daughter.  His  birth 
was  the  result  of  Apollo's  advice 
to  Thycstes,  that  only  thus  could 
he  secure  vengeance  upon  the  house 
of  Atreus,  A  gam.  48,  294;  at  open- 
ing of  play  he  recognizes  that  the 
fatal  day  is  come  for  which  he  was 
born,  ibid.  226;  lived  in  guilty 
union  with  Clytemnestra,  wife  of 
Agamemnon,  ibid,  passim. 

Aegoceros,  a  poetic  expression  for  the 
more  usual  Capricornus,  the  zodi- 
acal constellation  of  the  Goat,  Thy. 
864. 

Aegyptus,  see  Danaides. 

Aesculapius,  son  of  Apollo  and  the 
nymph  Coronis;  he  was  versed  in 
the  knowledge  of  medicine,  was 
deified,  and  had  the  chief  seat  of  his 
worship  at  Epidaurus,  Hip.   1022. 

Aetna,  a  volcano  in  Sicily,  Phoen. 
314;  its  fires  were  used  as  a  type  of 
raging  heat,  Hip.  102;  H.  Oet.  285; 
considered  as  the  seat  of  the  forge 
of  Vulcan,  H.  Fur.  106;  supposed 
to  be  heaped  upon  the  buried 
Titan's  breast,  Med.  410. 

AGAMEMNON  (Troades,  Agamem- 
non), king  of  Mycenae,  son  of 
Atreus,  brother  of  Menelaus,  com- 
mander of  the  Greek  forces  at 
Troy.  He  and  Menelaus  used 
by  Atreus  to  entrap  Thyestes,  Thy. 


325;  tamed  by  the  power  of  love, 
Oct.  815;  took  captive  Chryseis, 
daughter  of  the  priest  of  Apollo, 
Agam.  175;  compelled  to  give  her 
up,  he  took  from  Achilles  by  force 
his  maiden  Briseis,  ibid.  186;  at- 
tempts to  dissuade  Pyrrhus  from 
the  sacrifice  of  Polyxena  to  Achilles' 
ghost,  Tro.  *203;  inflamed  by  love 
for  Cassandra,  Agam.  188,  255; 
his  power  magnified  as  the  great 
king  who  has  come  unscathed  out 
of  a  thousand  perils,  ibid.  204;  his 
homeward  voyage  and  wreck  of 
his  fleet  described,  ibid.  *42i;  re- 
turns to  Mycenae  and  hails  his 
native  land,  ibid.  782;  his  murder 
described  by  Cassandra  who  either 
beholds  it  through  the  palace  door, 
or  sees  it  by  clairvoyant  power, 
ibid.  *867.  See  Cassandra,  Cly- 
temnestra, Iphigenia,  Pyrrhus. 

Agave,  a  daughter  of  Cadmus  and 
Harmonia,  mother  of  Pentheus, 
king  of  Thebes.  She,  with  her 
sisters,  in  a  fit  of  Bacchic  frenzy, 
slew  Pentheus  on  Mt.  Cithaeron, 
rent  away  his  head,  and  bore  it  back 
to  Thebes,  Oed.  1006;  Phoen.  15, 
363;  her  shade  appears  from  hades, 
raging  still,  Oed.  616.  See  Pen- 
theus. 

Agrippina  I,  daughter  of  M.  Vip- 
sanius  Agrippa  and  Julia,  the 
daughter  of  Augustus,  mother  of 
the  emperor  Caligula.  She  died  in 
exile  at  Pandataria,  Oct.  *932. 

AGRIPPINA  II  {Octavia),  daughter 
of  the  preceding,  wife  of  Cn.  Domi- 
tius  Ahenobarbus,  and  mother  of 
Nero.  She  married  the  emperor 
Claudius,  whom  she  murdered  by 
poison,  Oct.  26,  45,  165,  340;  she 
was  the  stepmother  of  Octavia,  and 
the  cause  of  all  her  woes,  ibid.  22; 
plotted  the  murder  of  Silanus,  the 
betrothed  lover  of  Octavia,  and 
forced  the  latter  into  marriage  with 
Nero,  ibid.  150;  she  sought  in  all 
this  her  own  power  and  world- 
wide sway,  ibid.  155,  612;  mur- 
dered by  her  own  son,  Nero,  ibid. 
46,    95,    165;     her    murder    briefly 


Mythological    Index 


501 


described  and  attributed  to  Pop- 
paea's  influence,  ibid.  126;  de- 
scribed in  full  detail,  ibid.  *3io, 
*6oo;  former  high  estate  and 
pitiable  death  contrasted,  ibid.  952; 
her  ghost  appears  to  curse  Nero  for 
his  impieties,  ibid.  *593- 

Ajax,  son  of  Oileus,  called  simply 
Oileus;  his  death  described,  Med. 
660;  for  his  blasphemous  defiance 
of  the  gods  he  was  destroyed  by 
Pallas  and  Neptune  in  the  great 
storm  which  wrecked  the  Greek 
fleet  on  its  homeward  voyage, 
Agam*  532. 

Ajax,  son  of  Telamon,  crazed  with 
rage  because  the  armor  of  the  dead 
Achilles  was  awarded  to  Ulysses, 
Again.  210. 

Alcestis,  wife  of  Admetus,  king  of 
Pherae,  for  the  preservation  of 
whose  life  she  resigned  her  own, 
Med.  662. 

ALCIDES,  see  Hercules. 

ALCMENA  (Hercules  Oetaeus),  wife 
of  Amphitryon,  a  Theban  prince, 
beloved  of  Jupiter,  and  mother  by 
him  of  Hercules,  //.  Fur.  22,  490. 
See  Hercules. 

Alcyone,  see  Ceyx. 

Althaea,  wife  of  Oeneus,  king  of 
Calydonia,  and  mother  of  Meleager. 
In  revenge  for  the  latter's  slaugh- 
ter of  her  two  brothers,  she  burned 
the  charmed  billet  of  wood  on 
which  her  son's  life  depended, 
and  so  brought  to  pass  his  death, 
Med.  779;  on  this  account  con- 
sidered as  a  type  of  unnatural 
woman,  H.  Oct.  954. 

Am althea,  the  goat  of  Olenus  which 
fed  with  its  milk  the  infant  Jove, 
and  was  set  as  constellation  in  the 
sky;  not  yet  known  as  such  in  the 
golden  age,  Med.  3 13.    See  Olenus. 

ZONS,  a  race  of  warlike  women 
who  dwelt  on  the  river  Thermodon, 
Med.  215;  even  tiny  have  felt  the 
influence  of  love,  Hip.  575;  con- 
quered by  Bacchus,  Oed.  479; 
Clytemnestra    compared    to    them, 


Agam.  736;  allies  of  Troy,  Tro.  12; 
their  queen,  IVnthesilea,  slain  by 
Achilles,  il> id.  243;  Hercules  la- 
ments that  if  he  was  fated  to  die  by 
a  woman's  hand  he  had  not  been 
slain  by  the  Amazon,  Hippolyte,  H. 
Oet.  1 183.  See  Antiope,  Penthe- 
silea,  Hippolyte. 

A'.ii'iuoN,  son  of  Antiope  by  Jupiter, 
king  of  Thebes,  and  husband  of 
Niobe;  renowned  for  his  music; 
built  the  walls  of  Thebes  by  the 
magic  of  his  lyre,  Phoen.  566;  H. 
Fur.  262;  his  hounds  are  heard 
baying  at  the  time  of  the  great 
plague  at  Thebes,  Oed.  179;  his 
shade  arises  from  hades  holding 
still  in  his  hand  the  wonderful  lyre, 
ibid.  612. 

AMPHITRYON  (Hercules  Fur  ens), 
a  Theban  prince,  husband  of 
Alcmcna,  the  mother  of  Hercules, 
H.  Fur.  309;  he  proves  that  not  he 
but  Jupiter  is  the  father  of  Hercules, 
ibid.  440;  welcomes  Hercules  upon 
his  return  from  hades,  ibid.  618. 

Antaeus,  an  Arcadian  hero,  one  of 
the  Argonauts,  slain  by  the  Caly- 
donian  boar,  Med.  643. 

ANDROMACHE  (Troades),  wife  of 
Hector  and  mother  of  Astyanax; 
attempts  to  hide  and  save  her  son 
from  Ulysses,  Tro.  *43o;  given  by 
lot  to  Pyrrhus,  ibid.  976.  See 
Asytanax. 

Ant  a  1  us,  a  Libyan  giant,  son  of 
Neptune  and  Terra,  a  famous 
wrestler,  who  gained  new  strength 
by  being  thrown  to  mother  earth; 
strangled  by  Hercules,  who  held 
him  aloft  in  the-  air,  //.  Fur. 
1 1 7 1 ;  //.  Oet.  24,  1899;  Alcmena 
fears  that  a  possible  son  of  his  may 
come    to    vex    the    earth,     //.     (hi. 

1788.  See  Hercules. 
ANTIGf  )N  E  (  Phoenissae),  the  •laugh- 
ter of  <  ledipus  and  Jocasta;  she 
refuses  to  desert  her  father  in  his 
blindness  and  exile,  Phoen.  51; 
Oedipus  wonders  that  such  a  pure 
girl  should  have  sprung  from  so 
vile  a  house,  ibid.  80;  she  argues 
her  father's  innocence,  ibid.  203. 


502 


T  II  E      T  R  A  G  EDI  K  S      OK       Si    \  i  c  A 


Amkut,  an  Amazon,  wifr  of  Theseus 
and  slain  l>y  him,  Hip.  22U,  927, 
1 1  r-.  - ;  mother  of  Hippolytus  by 
Theseus,  ibid.  398;  her  personal 
appearance  and  dress  described, 
ibid.  *3o8;  her  stern  and  lofty 
beauty  inherited  by  Hippolytus, 
ibid.  059. 
\\iM\ns  (Marc  Antony),  a  gnat 
Roman  general,  deflated  by  Oc- 
tavianus  at  the  battle  of  Actium; 
Bed  with  Cleopatra  to  Egypt,  Oct. 
518. 

Apollo,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Latona, 
horn  in  Dclos,  a  "roving  land," 
//.  Fur.  453;  twin  brother  of 
Diana,  Med.  87;  the  laurel  his 
sacred  tree,  Again.  588;  god  of  the 
prophetic  tripod,  Med.  86;  inspirer 
of  priestess  at  his  oracle,  Oed.  269; 
god  of  the  bow,  is  himself  pierced 
by  the  arrows  of  Cupid,  Hip.  192; 
killed  the  dragon  Python,  H.  Fur. 
455;  exiled  from  heaven  and 
doomed  to  serve  a  mortal  for  killing 
the  Cyclopes,  he  came  to  earth  and 
kept  the  flocks  of  Admetus,  king  of 
Pherae,  ibid.  451;  Hip.  296; 
hymn  in  praise  of,  Agam.  310; 
worshiped  as  the  sun,  lord  of  the 
sky,  under  the  name  of  Phoebus 
Apollo.     See  Phoebus. 

Aquarius,  the  zodiacal  constellation, 
known  as  the  Water-bearer,  Thy. 
865. 

Arabes,  the  inhabitants  of  Arabia, 
famed  for  their  spice  groves,  Oed. 
117;  sun- worshipers,  H.  Oet.  793; 
use  poisoned  darts,  Med.  711. 

Arctophylax,  the  Bear-keeper,  a 
northern  constellation,  called  also 
Bootes,  according  as  the  two  ad- 
jacent constellations  are  called  the 
Bears  (Arctos,  Ursae),  or  the 
Wagons  (Plaustra).  By  a  strange 
mixture  of  the  two  conceptions,  this 
constellation  is  called  Arctophylax 
and  custos  plaustri  ("the  wagon's 
guardian")  in  the  same  connection, 
Thy.  874.     See  Bootes. 

Arcadians,  the  most  ancient  race  of 
men,  older  than  the  moon,  H.  Oet. 
1883;  Hip.  786. 


Arcadian  Bears,  the  constellations 
of  the  Great  and  Little  Bears,  which 
wheel  round  their  course  in  the 
northern  sky,  but  do  not  set,  H. 
Fur.  1  29.  Sec  Arctos,  Bears,  and 
Callisto. 

Arcadian  Boar,  captured  by  Her- 
cules and  brought  alive  to  Eurys- 
theus  as  his  fourth  labor,  Agam. 
832;  H.  Fur.  229;  H.  Oet.  1536. 
See  Hercules. 

Arcadian  Stag,  captured  by  Her- 
cules, H.  Fur.  222.     Sec  Hercules. 

Arctos,  a  name  given  to  the  double 
constellation  of  the  Great  and  Little 
Bears,  Oed.  507;  called  also  Arca- 
dian stars,  ibid.  478.  Sec  Bears 
and  Callisto. 

Argo,  the  name  of  the  ship  in  which 
the  Greek  heroes  under  Jason 
sailed  to  Colchis  in  quest  of  the 
golden  fleece,  Med.  361;  chorus 
comments  upon  the  rashness  of 
the  man  who  first  intrusted  his  life 
to  a  ship,  and  recalls  the  adventure 
of  the  Argonautic  heroes,  ibid. 
♦301;  this  voyage  was  impious, 
since  it  broke  the  law  of  the  golden 
age,  that  the  lands  should  be  sev- 
ered, not  connected  by  the  seas, 
ibid.  335;  Tiphys  was  the  builder 
and  the  pilot  of  the  Argo,  ibid.  3, 
318;  he  was  instructed  by  Minerva, 
patron  goddess  of  the  arts  and 
crafts,  ibid.  3,  365;  the  Argo  had 
its  keel  made  of  wood  from  the 
talking  oak  of  Dodona,  ibid.  349; 
the  sailing  of  the  new  ship  described, 
ibid.  *3i8;  how  it  escaped  the 
Symplegades,  ibid.  *34i;  the  roll 
of  the  Argonautic  heroes,  "the  bul- 
wark of  the  Greeks,  the  offspring 
of  the  gods,"  ibid.  +227;  nearly  all 
came  to  a  violent  death,  ibid.  *6o7- 

Argos,  the  capital  of  Argolis,  sacred 
to  Juno,  the  home  of  heroes,  Agam. 
808;  paid  homage  to  Bacchus, 
after  the  favor  of  Juno  had  been 
won  by  him,  Oed.  486. 

Ariadne,  daughter  of  Minos,  king  of 
Crete;  she  fell  in  love  with  Theseus, 
and  supplied  him  with  a  thread  by 
which  to  find  his  way  out  of  the 


Mythological    Index 


503 


labyrinth,  Hip.  662;  she  fled  with 
Theseus,  but  was  ruined  and  de- 
serted by  him  on  the  island  of 
Naxos,  ioid.  665;  and  there  found 
and  beloved  by  Bacchus,  Oed.  448; 
who  made  her  his  wife  and  immor- 
talized her  by  setting  her  as  a  con- 
stellation in  the  heavens,  ibid.  497; 
//.  Fur.  18;  Hip.  663;  pardoned 
by  her  father  for  her  love  of  Theseus, 
ih id.  245. 

Aries,  the  golden-fleeced  ram  which 
bore  Phrixus  and  Helle  through  the 
air,  and  which  was  afterward  set 
in  the  heavens  as  one  of  the  zodiacal 
constellations,  Thy.  850. 

Astraea,  the  goddess  of  Justice,  who 
lived  among  men  during  the  golden 
age,  but  finally  left  the  earth  be- 
cause of  the  sins  of  man,  Oct.  424; 
she  is  the  zodiacal  constellation, 
Virgo,  If.  Oct.  69;  called,  incor- 
rectly and  perhaps  figuratively,  the 
mother  of  Somnus,  //.  Fur.  1068. 
See  Justice. 

ASTYANAX  (Troades),  the  young 
son  of  Hector  and  Andromache, 
pictured  as  leading  his  youthful 
playmates  in  joyful  dance  around 
the  wooden  horse,  Agam.  634; 
compared  with  his  father,  Tro.  464; 
his  death  demanded  by  the  Greeks, 
as  announced  by  Calchas,  ibid.  369; 
reasons  for  his  death  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  Greeks,  ibid.  526;  the 
doom  of  Astyanax  announced  to 
his  mother,  ibid.  620;  she  patheti- 
cally recounts  all  the  activities 
into  which  he  would  have  grown, 
but  which  must  now  be  given  up, 
ibid.  *77o;  his  death  described 
by  messenger,  ibid.  *io68. 

Atlantiades,  see  Pleiades. 

Atlas,  a  high  mountain  in  the  north- 
west of  Libya,  conceived  as  a  giant 
upon  whose  head  the  heavens 
rested,  //.  Oct.  12,  1599;  eased 
awhile  of  his  burden  by  Hercules, 
ibid.  1905. 

ATREUS  (Thycstes),  a  son  of  Pelops, 
father  of  Agamemnon  and  Mene- 
laiis,  and  brother  of  Thycstes,  be- 
tween whom  and  himself  existed  a 


deadly  feud.  He  plans  how  he  will 
avenge  himself  upon  his  brother, 
Thy.  176;  describes  his  brother's 
sins  against  himself,  ibid.  220;  his 
revenge  takes  shape  and  expression, 
ibid.  260;  the  place  and  scene  of 
his  murder  of  the  sons  of  Thycstes 
described  at  length,  ibid.  *65o;  he 
gloats  over  the  horrible  agony  of 
his  brother,  ibid.  1057. 

Attis,  a  young  Phrygian  shepherd, 
mourned  by  the  priests  of  Cybele, 
Agam.  686. 

Auge,  an  Arcadian  maiden,  loved  by 
Hercules,  and  mother  by  him  of 
Telephus,  H.  Oet.  367. 

Augean  Stables,  the  stables  of 
Augeas,  king  of  Elis,  containing 
three  thousand  head  of  cattle,  and 
uncleansed  for  thirty  years;  they 
were  cleaned  by  Hercules  in  a 
single  day,  II.  Fur.  247. 

AUGUSTUS,  the  first  emperor  of  Rome; 
his  rule  cited  by  Seneca  to  Nero  as 
a  model  of  strong  but  merciful 
sway,  Oct.  +477;  his  bloody  path 
to  power  described  by  Nero,  ibid. 
♦505;    deified  at  death,  ibid.  528. 

Aulis,  a  seaport  of  Boeotia,  the  ren- 
dezvous of  the  Greek  fleet,  whence 
they  sailed  to  Troy.  Here  they 
were  stayed  by  adverse  winds  until 
they  were  appeased  by  the  sacrifice 
of  Iphigenia,  Agam.  567;  Tro.  104; 
the  hostility  of  Aulis  to  all  ships 
because  her  king,  Tiphys,  had  met 
death  on  the  Argonautic  expedition, 
assigned  as  a  reason  for  her  deten- 
tion of  the  Greek  Beet,  Med.  622. 
See  Iphigenia. 

B. 

Bacchus,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Semele, 

the  daughter  of  Cadmus.  The  un- 
born infant  was  -red  from  his 
dying  mother  who  had  been  blasted 
by  the  lightnings  of  her  lover,  Oed. 
502;     Med.   84;     //■    Fur.   457;     to 

ape  the   wrath  of  Juno,   he 
hid   in   Arabian   (or  Indian 
where,    disguised  as  a  girl,    he 

nourished  by  the  nymphs,  Oed. 
♦418;     in    childhood    captured    by 


5°4 


T  II  K      T  K  A  C  K  D  I  K  S      O  F      S  E  N  E  C  A 


Tvti.in  pirates,  who,  frightened  by 
marvelous  manifestations  of  divine 

power  on  board  their  ship,  Leaped 
overboard  and  were  changed  into 

dolphins,  ibid.  *440".    visited   India, 

accompanied  by  Theban  heroes, 
ibid.  *xiy,    II-  Fur.  903;    visited 

Lydia  and  sailed  on  the  Pactolus, 
Oed.  4c >7 ;  conquered  the  Amazons 
and  many  other  savage  peoples, 
ibid.  469;  god  of  the  flowing  locks, 
crowned  with  ivy,  carrying  the 
thyrsus,  ibid.  403;  H.  Fur.  472; 
Hip.  *753;  marvelous  powers  of 
the  thyrsus  described,  Oed.  +491; 
attended  by  his  foster-father  Sile- 
nus,  ibid.  429;  called  Bassareus, 
Oed.  432;  Bromius,  Hip.  760; 
Ogygian  Iacchus,  Oed.  437;  Nycte- 
lius,  ibid.  492;  destroyed  Lycurgus, 
king  of  Thrace,  because  of  that 
king's  opposition  to  him,  H.  Fur. 
903;  inspired  his  maddened  wor- 
shipers, the  women  of  Thebes,  to 
rend  Pentheus  in  pieces,  Oed.  441, 
483;  helped  Jupiter  in  war  against 
the  giants,  H.  Fur.  458;  found 
Ariadne  on  island  of  Naxos,  where 
she  had  been  deserted  by  Theseus, 
made  her  his  wife,  and  set  her  as  a 
constellation  in  the  heavens,  Oed. 
488,  497;  Hip.  760;  H.  Fur.  18; 
dithyrambic  chorus  in  his  praise, 
giving  numerous  incidents  in  his 
career,  Oed.  **403;  won  the  favor  of 
Juno  and  the  homage  of  her  city 
of  Argos,  ibid.  486;  gained  a  place 
in  heaven,  H.  Oet.  94.  See 
Ariadne,  Bassarides,  Bromius, 
Nyctelius,  Ogyges,  Pentheus, 
Proetides,  Semele,  Silenus. 

Bassarides,     female    worshipers    of 
Bacchus,    so    called    because    they 
were  clad  in  fox  skins,    Oed.   432. 
Hence  Bacchus  was  called  Bassa- 
reus. 

Bears,  the  northern  constellations  of 
the  Great  and  Little  Bears;  they 
were  forbidden  by  the  jealous  Juno 
to  bathe  in  the  ocean  (an  explana- 
tion of  the  fact  that  these  constella- 
tions never  set),  H.  Oet.  281,  1585; 
Thy.  477;   Med.  405;   have  plunged 


into  the  sea  under  the  influence  of 

magic,  ibid.  758;  shall  some  day,  by 
a  reversal  of  nature's  laws,  plunge 

beneath  the  sea,  Thy.  867;  the 
Great  Bear  used  for  steering  ships 
by  the  Greeks,  the  Little  Bear  by 
the  Phoenicians,  Med.  694.  Sec 
Arcadian  Bears,  Arctos,  Cal- 
listo. 

Belias,  one  of  the  Bclides,  or  grand- 
daughters of  Belus,  the  same  as  the 
Danaklcs,  since  Danalis  was  the 
son  of  Belus,  H.  Oet.  960. 

B  ellon a,  the  bloody  goddess  of  war, 
conceived  of  as  dwelling  in  hell, 
H.  Oet.  13 1 2;  haunts  the  palace  of 
kings,  Again.  82. 

Boeotia,  land  named  from  the  heifer 
which  guided  Cadmus  to  the  place 
where  he  should  found  his  city, 
Oed.  722. 

Bootes,  the  northern  constellation  of 
the  Wagoner,  driving  his  wagons, 
under  which  form  also  the  two 
Bears  are  conceived,  Oct.  233; 
Agam.  70;  unable  to  set  beneath 
the  sea,  ibid.  69;  not  yet  known  as 
a  constellation  in  the  golden  age, 
Med.  315. 

Briareus,  one  of  the  giants  pictured 
as  storming  heaven,  H.  Oet.  167. 

Briseis,  a  captive  maiden,  beloved 
by  her  captor,  Achilles,  from  whom 
she  was  taken  by  Agamemnon, 
Tro.  194,  220,  318. 

Britannicus,  son  of  the  emperor 
Claudius  and  Messalina,  brother  of 
Octavia,  and  stepbrother  of  Nero, 
by  whom,  at  the  instigation  of 
Agrippina,  the  mother  of  Nero,  he 
was  murdered,  in  order  that  Nero 
might  have  undisputed  succession 
to  the  throne,  Oct.  47,  67,  *i66, 
242,  269. 

Bromius  (the  "noisy  one"),  an 
epithet  of  Bacchus,  on  account  of 
the  noisy  celebration  of  his  festivals, 
Hip.  760. 

Brutus,  the  friend  of  Julius  Caesar, 
and  yet  the  leader  of  the  conspi- 
rators against  him,  Oct.  498. 


Mythological    Index 


505 


Busiris,  a  king  of  Egypt  who  sacri- 
ficed strangers  upon  his  altars,  and 
was  himself  slain  by  Hercules,  Tro. 
1 106,  //.  Fur.  483;  H.  Oet.  26; 
Alcmena  fears  that  a  possible  son 
of  his  may  come  to  vex  the  earth 
now  that  Hercules  is  -lead,  ibid. 
1787. 

C 

(*.\i>\iiTnEs,  daughters  of  Cadmus, 
e.  g.,  Agave,  Autonoe,  Ino,  who  in 
their  madness  tore  Pentheus  in 
pieces,  H.  Fur.  758. 

Cadmus,  son  of  Agcnor,  the  king  of 
Phoenicia.  Being  sent  by  his 
father  to  find  his  lost  sister,  Europa, 
with  the  command  not  to  return 
unless  successful,  he  wandered  over 
the  earth  in  vain,  and  at  last 
founded  a  land  of  his  own  (Boeotia), 
guided  thither  by  a  heifer  sent  by 
Apollo.  Here  he  kills  the  great 
serpent  sacred  to  Mars,  sows  its 
teeth  in  the  earth  from  which 
armed  men  spring  up,  Oed.  **7i2; 

If.  Fur.  qi;;  Pliant.  125;  lie  was 
at  last  himself  changed  to  a  serpent, 
//.  Fur.  392;  his  house  was 
cursed,  so  that  no  king  of  Thebes 
from  Cadmus  on  held  the  throne  in 
peace  and  happiness,  Phoen.   64  \. 

CAESAR,  Julius,  quoted  as  a  mighty 
general,  unconquered  in  war,  but 
slain  by  the  hands  of  citizens,  Oct. 
500. 

CALC'IIAS  (Troades),  a  distinguished 
seer  among  the  Greeks  before 
Troy;  his  prophetic  power  de- 
scribed, Tro.  *353",  he  decides  that 
Polyxena  must  be  sacrificed,  ibid. 
360'. 

Callisto,  a  nymph  of  Arcadia,  be- 
loved of  Jove,  changed  into  a  bear 
by  Juno,  and  set  in  the  heavens 
by  her  lover  as  the  constellation  of 
the  Great  Bear,  while  her  son 
Areas  was  made  the  Little  Hear, 
H.  Fur.  6;  is  the  constellation  by 
which  the  (ircek  sailors  guided 
their  ships,  ibid.  7;  called  the  frozen 
Bear,  Aid.  1139.  Sec  Jupiter, 
Arctos,  Bears. 


Calpe,  one  side  of  a  rocky  passage 
rent  by  Hercules,  thus  letting  the 
Mediterranean  Sea  into  the  outer 
ocean.  Calpe  was  one  of  the  so- 
called  "pillars  of  Hercules,"  or 
Gibraltar,  while    th<  te  mass 

in  Africa  from  which  it  was  rent 
was  called  Abyla,  H.  Fur.  237; 
H.  Oet.  1240,  1253,  1569. 

Cancer,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 

the  Crab,  in  which  the  sun  is  found 
in  the  summer  solstice,  Thy.  854; 
Hip.   287;    H.  Oet.  41,  67,   1219, 

1573- 

Caphereus,  a  cliff  on  the  coast  of 
Euboea,  where  Nauplius  lured  the 
Greek  fleet  to  destruction  by  dis- 
playing false  tire-,  A  gam.  560.  See 
Nauplius. 

CapnOMANTIA,  a  method  of  divining 
by  observation  of  the  smoke  of  the 
sacrifice,  described,  Oed.   *$2$. 

CASSANDRA  (Agamemnon),  be- 
loved by  Apollo,  but  false  to  him; 
for  this,  the  gift  of  prophecy  be- 
stowed by  him  was  made  of  no 
avail  by  his  decree  that  she  should 
never  be  believed,  Tro.  34;  A  gam. 
255,  588;  given  by  lot  to  Agamem- 
non in  the  distribution  of  the  cap- 
tives, Tro.  978;  raves  in  prophi 
frenzy  and  describes  the  murder  of 
Agamemnon  in  progress,  Agiim. 
*72o;  is  led  away  to  death,  rejoic- 
ing in  the  prospect,  and  predicting 
the  death  of  Clytemnestra  and 
Aegisthus,  ibid.  1004. 

Castor,  one  of  the  twin  sons  of 
Jupiter  and  l.eda,  wife  of  Tyn- 
darus,  king  of  Sparta;  his  brother 
was  Pollux,  Phoen.  128;  Castor 
was  the  rider  of  the  famous  horse, 
Hams,  given  to  him  by  Juno, 
Hip.  810;  the  twins  were  members 
of  the  Argonautic  expedition,  Med. 
230;  called  Tyndaridae,  from  the 
name  of  their  reputed  father,  //. 
Fur.  14;  Castor  a  famous  horseman, 
Pollux,  a  famous  boxer,  Med.  89; 
the  two  were  >et  as  <  onstellations 
in  the  sky  to  the  Kr'rl  of  Juno, 
Oct.  208. 


5oo 


Thk    Tragedies    ok    Seneca 


Caucasus,  b  rough  mountain  range 

between   the    Buck    and    Caspian 

Seas,  Thy.   1048;  lure  Prometheus 

v,.i^  chained,    //.(><•/.  1378;  Med. 

See  Prometheus. 

Cecrops,  the  mythical  founder  and 
first  king  of  Athens;  hence  the 
Athenians  were  called  Cecropians, 

Med.  70;   Thy.  1049. 

( '1  n  \i  cm,  a  promontory  <>n  the  north- 
west point  <>f  the  island  of  Euboea; 
here  Hercules  sacrificed  to  Jove, 
who  was  called  Cenacan  Jove  from 
the  position  of  his  temple,  after  his 
victory  over  Kurytus,  H.  Oet.  102; 
while  sacrificing  here,  Hercules 
donned  the  poisoned  robe  sent  by 
Deianira,  ibid.  782. 

Centaurs,  a  race  of  wild  people  in 
Thessaly,  half  man,  half  horse,  H. 
Oet.  1049,  1 195,  1925;  fight  of, 
with  the  Lapithae,  H.  Fur.  778; 
the  centaur,  Nessus,  killed  by  Her- 
cules, H.  Oet.  *503.  See  Chiron, 
Nessus. 

Cirberus,  the  monstrous  three- 
headed  dog,  guardian  of  hades,  Thy. 
16;  H.  Oet.  23;  H.  Fur.  1107;  his 
existence  denied,  Tro.  404;  said  to 
have  broken  out  of  hades,  and  to  be 
wandering  abroad  in  the  Theban 
land,  Oed.  171;  his  clanking  chains 
heard  on  earth,  ibid.  581;  Her- 
cules, in  the  accomplishment  of  his 
twelfth  labor,  brought  the  dog  in 
chains  to  the  upper  world,  IT.  Oet. 
1245;  Agam.  859;  H.  Fur.  +50, 
547;  Theseus  describes  the  dog  in 
great  detail,  and  how  he  was 
brought  to  the  upper  world  by  Her- 
cules, ibid.  *76o;  his  actions  in  the 
light  of  day,  ibid.  *8i3-  See  Her- 
cules. 

Ceres,  the  daughter  of  Saturn,  sister 
of  Jupiter,  mother  of  Proserpina, 
and  goddess  of  agriculture;  her 
vain  and  anxious  search  for  her 
daughter,  H.  Fur.  659;  taught 
Triptolemus  the  science  of  agricul- 
ture, Hip.  838;  the  mystic  rites  of 
her  worship,  H.  Fur.  845.  Her 
name  used    frequently   by  meton- 


vmy  for  grain.  See  Eleusin, 
Pi  oserpina,  Triptolemus. 

Ciyx,  king  of  Trachin  who  suffered 
death    by    shipwreck.     His    wife, 

Alcyone,  mourned  him  incessantly, 
until  finally  both  he  and  she  were 
changed  into  kingfishers,  H.  Oet. 
197;  Agam.  68i ;   I  ></.  7. 

Chaonian  (  >aks,  a  sacred  grove  in 
Chaonia  of  Epirus  containing  a 
temple  and  oracle  of  Jupiter,  said 
to  be  the  oldest  oracle  in  Greece; 
the  oracle  was  supposed  to  be  given 
out  by  the  oaks  themselves,  which 
were  endowed  with  the  miraculous 
power  of  speech,  or  by  the  doves 
which  resorted  there.  These  great 
"Chaonian  trees"  are  used  as  a 
type  of  tall  trees  in  general,  ( 'ed. 
728;  the  "talking  oak"  of  Chaonia, 
H.  Oet.  1623.     See  Dodona. 

Charon,  the  aged  man  who  ferries 
souls  across  the  river  Styx,  H.  Fur. 
555;  his  personal  appearance  de- 
scribed by  Theseus,  ibid.  *764; 
forced  by  Hercules  to  bear  him 
across  the  Lethe  (not  Styx),  ibid. 
♦770;  overwearied  by  his  toil  of 
transporting  such  throngs  of  Theban 
dead,  Oed.  166;  charmed  by  the 
music  of  Orpheus,  H.  Oet.  1072; 
Cassandra  prophesies  that  his  skiff 
shall  on  that  day  carry  two  royal 
souls  across  the  river  of  death, 
Agam.  752. 

Charybdis,  a  whirlpool  between 
Italy  and  Sicily,  opposite  to  Scylla, 
alternately  sucking  in  and  vomiting 
up  the  sea,  Med.  408;  H.  Oet.  235; 
Thy.  581.     See  Scylla. 

Chimaera,  a  monster  combining  a 
lion,  a  dragon,  and  a  goat,  which 
vomited  forth  fire,  Med.  828. 

Chiron,  a  centaur  dwelling  in  a 
cavern  on  Mt.  Pelion,  famous  for 
his  knowledge  of  plants,  medicine, 
and  divination.  To  his  training 
was  intrusted  the  young  Jason,  Her- 
cules, Aesculapius,  and  Achilles, 
H.  Fur.  971;  Tro.  832;  set  in  the 
sky  as  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 
Sagittarius,  the  "Archer,"  Thy.  860. 


Mythological    Index 


507 


Cheyseis,  the  daughter  of  Chryses, 
a  priest  of  Apollo  at  Chrysa.  She 
was  taken  captive  by  the  Greeks  and 
fell  tn  the  h>t  of  Agamemnon,  who, 
being  forced  by  a  pestilence  sent 
by  Apollo  to  give  her  up,  claimed 
Brisels,  the  captive  maid  of  Achilles. 
Hence  anise  a  deadly  strife  between 
the  two,  Tro.  223.     See  Achilles. 

Cirrha,  a  very  ancient  town  in 
Phocis,  near  Delphi,  where  were  the 
famous  temple  and  oracle  of  Apollo, 
Oed.  269;   H.  Oet.  92,  1475. 

ClTHAEEON,  a  mountain  near  Thebes 
where  the  infant  Oedipus  had  been 
exposed,  Phoen.  13;  the  scene  of 
many  wild   and   tragic   deeds.     See 

Actaeox,    Agave,    Dirce,    Pen- 

THEUS. 

Claudius,  the  fourth  Roman  emperor, 
father  of  Octavia,  murdered  by  his 
second  wife,  Agrippina,  Oct.  26,  45, 
269. 

CLOTHO,  one  of  the  three  fates  or 
l'.ircae,  supposed  to  hold  the  dis- 
taff and  spin  the  thread  of  life,  //. 
Oet.  768;    Oct.  16;    Thy.  617. 

CLYTEMNESTBA     {Agamemnon), 

the  daughter  of  Tyndarus  and 
Leda,  wife  of  Agamemnon,  mother 
of  Orestes,  Iphigenia,  and  Electra. 
During  the  absence  of  her  husband 
at  the  Trojan  War,  she  engaged  in 
a  guilty  conspiracy  with  Aegisthus 
to  murder  Agamemnon.  She  delib- 
erates whether  she  shall  give  up  her 
course  of  crime  or  carry  it  out  to 
the  end,  Again.  108;  tests  the  cour- 
age and  determination  of  Aegisthus 
ihid.  239;  her  murder  of  Agamem- 
non prophesied  and  described  by 
Cassmdra,  ibid.  * 7 3 4 .  See  Aga- 
memnon and  Aegisthus. 

tus,  "the  river  of  lamentation," 
a  gloomy,  repulsive  river  of  hades, 
//.  Oet.  1963;  "sluggish,  vile,"  H. 
1-iir.  686;  conceived  as  the  river 
over  which  spirits  cross  to  the  land 
of  the  dead,  ibid.  870. 

Colchian  Bull,  the  fire-breathing 
monster  which  Jason  was  set  to 
tame  and  yoke  to  the  plow;  Medea 


claims  to  have   preserved    some  of 
his   fiery   breath  for  her  magic  uses, 
Med.  829. 
Colchian  Woman,  See  Medea. 

CREON  {Medea),  king  of  Corinth,  to 
whose  court  Jason  and  Medea  fled 
after  they  were  driven  out  of 
Thessaly;  father  of  Creusa,  for 
whom  he  selected  Jason  as  a  hus- 
band, decreeing  the  banishment  of 
Medea;  headstrong  and  arbitrary, 
he  breaks  the  most  sacred  ties  to 
work  his  own  will,  Med.  143;  after 
a  stormy  interview  with  Medea,  he 
finally  allows  her  a  single  day  of 
respite  from  exile,  ihid.  *i9o; 
(ailed  the  son  of  Sisyphus,  ibid.  512; 
his  death  and  that  of  his  daughter 
by  means  of  magic  lire  announced 
and  described,  ibid.  *&"]<). 

CREON  {Oedipus),  a  Theban  prince, 
brother  of  Queen  Jocasta,  Oed.  210; 
sent  by  Oedipus  to  consult  the 
oracle  as  to  the  cause  of  the  plague 
at  Thebes,  he  reports  that  it  is 
because  of  the  unavenged  murder 
of  their  former  king,  La'ius,  ibid. 
*2io;  he  returns  from  necromantic 
rites  which  Tiresias  had  performed, 
and  announces  that  Oedipus  him- 
self is  guilty  of  the  murder  of 
La'ius.  He  is  thereupon  thrown 
into  prison  by  Oedipus  on  the 
charge  of  conspiracy  with  Tiresias, 
ibid.  *$og;  slain  by  the  usurper, 
Lycus,  as  described  by  his  daughter, 
Megara,  who  had  been  given  as 
wife  to  Hercules,  H.  Fur.  254. 

1  ian  Bull,  a  wild  bull  of  prodi- 
gious size,  which  laid  waste  the 
island  of  Crete;  caught  and  taken 
alive  to  Eurystheus  by  Her«  ules  as 
his  seventh  labor,  //.  l-ur.  230; 
Agam.  833;    See  Hercules. 

CRE1  SAl  Medea),  daughter  of  Creon, 

king  of  Corinth,  for  whom 
Creon  chose  Jason  as  husband, 
Med.  105;  Jason's  wife,  Medea, 
bitterly  protests  that  Creusa  shall 
not  bear  brothers  to  her  children, 
ibid.  509;  Jason  is  charged  by  his 
wife  with  love  for  Creusa,  ibid.  495; 
Medea  prepares  a  magic  robe  as  .1 


5o8 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


present  tor  Creusa  by  which  she 
shall  be  burned  to  death,  ibid.  *8i6; 
Creusa's  death  announced  and  de- 
scribed, ibid.  879. 

CsiSPlMUS,  B  Roman  knight,  the  hus- 
band of  Poppaea,  Oct.  731. 

Cl'Pin,  the  god  nf  love,  son  of  Venus; 
addressed    and    characterized    by 

Deianira,  //.  ( ><7.  +  5J1;  all  power- 
ful over  the  hearts  of  gods  and  men, 
Hip.  *i8s;  hymn  recounting  his 
wide  sway,  with  special  instances  of 
his  irresistible  power,  ibid.  **275; 
his  dire  power,  Oct.  806;  there  is 
no  such  god;  he  is  created  by  the 
error  of  men,  who  seek  to  hide 
their  own  lustful  passions  behind 
such   a   being,   ibid.   **557 ;    Hip. 

**27  t\. 

Cybele,  a  goddess  worshiped  in  the 
Phrygian  groves,  Hip.  1135;  the 
pines  of  Ida  were  sacred  to  her, 
Tro.  72;  crowned  with  a  turreted 
crown,  her  worship  described, 
Agam.  686. 

Cyclopes,  a  fabulous  race  of  giants 
on  the  coast  of  Sicily,  having  each 
but  one  eye  in  the  middle  of  the 
forehead;  they  are  said  to  have 
built  the  walls  of  Mycenae,  H. 
Fur.  997;  Thy.  407;  Polyphemus, 
one  of  the  Cyclopes,  is  pictured  as 
sitting  on  a  crag  of  Mt.  Aetna, 
ibid.  582. 

Cycntjs,  a  son  of  Mars,  slain  by  Her- 
cules, H.  Fur.  485. 

Cycntjs,  a  son  of  Neptune,  slain  by 
Achilles  and  changed  at  the  mo- 
ment of  death  into  a  swan,  Agam. 
215;   Tro.  184. 

Cyllarus,  a  famous  horse  which 
Juno  received  from  Neptune  and 
presented  to  Castor,  Hip.  811. 

Cynosura,  the  constellation  of  the 
Lesser  Bear,  Thy.  872. 

D 

Daedalus,  an  Athenian  architect, 
the  father  of  Icarus,  in  the  time  of 
Theseus  and  Minos.  He  helped 
Pasiphae,  wife  of  Minos,  to  accom- 
plish her  unnatural   desires,   Hip. 


120;  built  the  labyrinth  for  the 
Minotaur,  ibid.  122,  1171;  story 
of  his  escape  from  Crete  on  wings 
which  he  himself  had  constructed, 
Oed.  +822;  safe  because  he  pursued 
a  middle  course,  //.  Oet.  683. 
Danak,  daughter  of  A<  risius,  and 
mother  of  Perseus  by  Jupiter  who 
approached  her  in  the  form  of  a 
golden  shower,  Oct.  207,  772.  See 
Perseus. 

Danaides,  the  fifty  daughters  of 
Danaiis,  brother  of  Aegyptus. 
These  fifty  daughters,  being  forced 
to  marry  the  fifty  sons  of  Aegyptus, 
slew  their  husbands  on  their  wed- 
ding night,  with  the  single  excep- 
tion of  Hypermnestra,  //.  Fur. 
498;  their  punishment  in  hades  for 
this  crime  was  the  task  of  filling  a 
bottomless  cistern  with  water  car- 
ried in  sieves,  ibid.  757;  Medea 
summons  these  to  her  aid  in  getting 
vengeance  upon  her  own  husband, 
Med.  749;  Deianira  would  fill  up 
the  vacant  place  in  their  number  left 
by  the  absence  of  Hypermnestra, 
H.  Oet.  948;  called  also  Belides, 
ibid.  960.  See  Belias,  Hyperm- 
nestra. 

Dardanus,  the  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Electra,  one  of  the  ancestors  of  the 
royal  house  of  Troy.  He  is  repre- 
sented as  exulting  in  hades  over 
the  impending  doom  of  Agamem- 
non, the  enemy  of  his  house,  Agam. 

773- 
Daulian  Bird,  i.  e.,  Philomela,  who 
was  changed  into  a  nightingale 
after  the  sad  tragedy  connected 
with  her  name,  which  was  enacted 
at  Daulis,  a  city  of  Phocis.  She 
mourns  continually,  in  her  bird 
form,  for  Itys,  H.  Oet.  192.  See 
Philomela  and  Itys. 

DEIANIRA  (Hercules  Oetaeus),  the 
daughter  of  Oeneus,  king  of  Caly- 
donia,  sister  of  Meleager,  wife  of 
Hercules,  and  mother  of  Hyllus, 
pictured  as  playing  with  her 
maidens  on  the  banks  of  the 
Acheloiis,  H.  Oet.  586;  relates  to 
her  nurse  the  affair  of  her  abduction 


Mythological    Index 


509 


by  Nessus,  ibid.  *5oo;  her  wild  rage 
when  she  hears  of  Hercules'  infat- 
uation for  Iole,  ibid.  237;  ignorant 
of  its  real  power,  she  prepares  to 
send  the  charmed  robe  to  Hercules, 
ibid.  *535;  she  gives  it  to  Lichas  to 
bear  to  his  master,  ibid.  569;  makes 
test  of  the  remnant  of  the  poisoned 
blood  of  Nessus  after  the  anointed 
robe  has  been  sent  away  and 
is  horrified  to  discover  its  ter- 
rible  power,  ibid.  *7 16;  later  learns 
from  Hyllus  the  terrible  effects  of 
the  poison  on  Hercules,  ibid.  *742; 
she  prays  for  death,  ibid.  842;  begs 
Hyllus  to  slay  her,  ibid.  984;  goes 
distracted  and  seems  to  see  the 
furies  approaching,  ibid.  1002;  her 
death  by  her  own  hand  reported 
by  Hyllus,  ibid.  1420. 

Deidamia,  daughter  of  Lycomedes, 
king  of  Scyros,  and  mother  of 
Pyrrhus  by  Achilles  while  the  latter 
was  hiding  in  the  disguise  of 
maidens'  garments  at  that  court, 
Tro.  342. 

Deiphobus,  a  son  of  Priam  and 
Hecuba  and  husband  of  Helen 
after  the  death  of  Paris;  slain  and 
mangled  by  the  Greeks  through 
the  treachery  of  his  wife,  Again. 
749- 

Delos,  a  small  island  in  the  Aegean 
Sea,  formerly  floating  about  from 
place  to  place,  in  which  con- 
dition it  became  the  birthplace  of 
Apollo  and  Diana,  H.  Fur.  453; 
made  firm  at  the  command  of  Diana, 
Again.  384. 

Delphic  Oracle,  the  famous  oracle 
of  Apollo  at  Delphi  in  Phocis; 
expressed  in  enigmatic  form,  Oed. 
214;  the  giving-out  of  an  oracle 
described,  ibid.  *225. 

Deucalion,  son  of  Prometheus,  hus- 
band of  Pyrrha;  this  pair  were  alone 
saved  of  all  mankind  from  the 
flood,  Tro.   1039.     See  Pyri -ii a. 

Diana,  daughter  of  Jupiter  and 
Latona,  twin  sister  of  Apollo,  //. 
Fur.  905;  hymn  in  praise  of,  A  gam. 
♦367;    caused  her  native  Delos  to 


be  a  firm  island,  ibid.  369;  punished 
Niobe  for  her  impiety,  ibid.  375; 
conceived  as  in  triple  manifesta- 
tion, Luna  or  Phoebe  in  heaven, 
Diana  on  earth,  and  Hecate  in 
hades,  Hip.  412;  hence  called 
Trivia  and  worshiped  where  three 
ways  meet,  Agam.  367;  Hippoly- 
tus  prays  to  her  as  goddess  of  the 
chase,  Hip.  54;  her  wide  sway 
described,  ibid.  *54;  nurse  of 
Phaedra  prays  that  she  may  turn 
Hippolytus  to  love,  ibid.  406;  in 
form  of  Luna,  an  object  of  attack 
by  Thessalian  witchcraft,  ibid.  421; 
luing  slighted  by  Oeneus,  king  of 
Aetolia  or  Calydon,  she  sent  a 
huge  boar  to  ravage  the  country. 
Hence  Plcuron,  a  city  of  Aetolia,  is 
said  to  be  hostile  to  her,  Tro.  827. 

DlCTYNNA,  "goddess  of  the  nets," 
an  epithet  applied  to  Diana,  Med. 
795;  assumed  from  Britomartys, 
a  Cretan  nymph,  sometimes  called 
the  Cretan  Diana,  who,  to  escape 
from  the  pursuit  of  her  lover, 
leaped  over  a  cliff  into  the  sea, 
where  she  fell  into  a  fishing-net. 

Diomedes,  a  bloody  king  of  the 
Bistones,  in  Thrace,  who  fed  his 
captives  to  fierce,  man-eating 
horses  which  he  kept  in  his  stalls, 
//.  Get.  1538;  Tro.  1108;  Her- 
cules, as  his  eighth  labor,  captured 
these  horses,  having  previously 
fed  their  master  to  them,  Again. 
842;  H.  Fur.  226,  1170;  Akmena 
fears  that  she  may  be  given  to 
these  horses  now  that  Hercules  is 
dead,   H.    Oet.    1790.      See    Her- 

CULKS. 

Dikci:,  tlie  wife  of  Lycus,  king  of 
Thebes,  who,  on  account  of  her 
cruelty  to  Antiope,  was  tied  by  her 
sons,  Zethus  and  Amphion,  by  the 
hair  to  a  wild  bull,  and  so  dragged 
to  death  on  Mt.  Cithaeron,  Phoen. 
19;  changed  to  a  fountain  of  the 
same  name,  ibid.  120;  //.  Fur.  916; 
the  water  of  this  fountain  was  said 
to  flow  with  blood  at  the  tin. 
the  great  plague  at  Thebes.  Oed. 
177- 


5"> 


The    Tragedies    of    Skneca 


Discord,  one  of  the  furies,  summoned 

by  Juno  from  hades  to  drive  Her- 
cules to  madness,  //.  Fur.  gy,    her 

abode  described,  ibid.  *o3. 

Di  dona,  a  city  of  Chaonia  in  Epirus, 

famous  for  its  ancient  oracle  of 
Jupiter,  situated  in  a  grove  of  oaks. 

The  oracle  was  given  in  some 
mysterious  way  as  if  by  the  talking 
of  these  sacred  oaks,  H.  Oet.  1473; 
Minerva  aided  in  the  construction 
of  the  Argo,  and  set  in  the  prow  a 
piece  of  timber  cut  from  the  speak- 
ing oak  of  Dodona,  and  this  piece 
had  itself  the  power  of  giving 
oracles;  hence  the  "voice"  which 
it  is  said  that  the  Argo  lost  through 
fear  of  the  clashing  Symplegades, 
Med.  349.     See  Chaonian  Oaks. 

Domitius,  the  father  of  Nero,  Oct.  249. 

Dragon,  (i)  the  guardian  of  the 
apples  of  the  Hesperides,  slain  by 
Hercules,  and  afterward  set  in  the 
heavens  as  the  constellation,  Draco, 
lying  between  the  two  Bears,  Thy. 
870;  Med.  694;  (2)  the  dragon  of 
Colchis,  guardian  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  put  to  sleep  by  the  magic 
of  Medea,  Med.  703;  (3)  dragon 
sacred  to  Mars  killed  by  Cadmus 
near  the  site  of  his  destined  city 
of  Thebes.  The  teeth  of  this  dragon 
were  sown  in  the  earth  by  Cadmus, 
and  from  these  armed  men  sprung 
up,  Oed.  **725;  H.  Fur.  260;  a 
part  of  these  same  teeth  were 
sown  by  Jason  in  Colchis  with  a 
similar  result,  Med.  469;  the  broth- 
ers who  sprang  up  against  Cad- 
mus are  described  as  living  in  hades, 
Oed.  586. 

Drusus,  Livius,  the  fate  of,  Oct. 
887,  942. 

Dryads,  a  race  of  wood-nymphs,  H. 
Oet.  1053;    Hip.  784. 


Echo,  a  nymph  who  pined  away 
to  a  mere  voice  for  unrequited  love 
of  Narcissus.  She  dwells  in  moun- 
tain caves,  and  repeats  the  last 
words  of  all  that  is  said  in  her 
hearing,  Tro.  109. 


ELECTRA  (Agamemnon),  daughter 

of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra, 
and  sister  of  Orestes;  gives  her 
brother  to  Strophius,  king  of 
Phocis,  that  he  may  be  rescued 
from  death  at  the  hands  of  Cly- 
temnestra and  Aegisthus,  Agam. 
910;  defies  her  mother,  and  scorns 
both  her  threats  and  those  of 
Aegisthus,  ibid.  953;  is  taken  away 
to  imprisonment,  ibid.  1000;  Oc- 
tavia  compares  her  woes  with 
Electra's,  to  the  advantage  of  the 
latter,  Oct.  60. 

Eleusin,  an  ancient  city  of  Attica, 
famous  for  its  mysteries  of  Ceres, 
H.  Oet.  599;  Tro.  843;  H.  Fur. 
300;  Hip.  838;  the  celebration  of 
the  mysteries  described,  H.  Fur. 
♦842.     See   Ceres,   Triptolemus. 

Elysium,  the  abode  of  the  blest  in 
the  spirit  world,  Tro.  159,  944; 
H.  Oet.  1916;  H.  Fur.  744; 
Deianira  thinks  that  she  should  be 
expelled  from  Elysium  by  all 
faithful  wives,  H.  Oet.  956. 

Enceladus,  one  of  the  giant  Titans 
who  attempted  to  dethrone  Jove, 
overthrown  and  buried  under  Sicily, 
H.  Fur.  79;  H.  Oet.  1140,  1145, 
"59.  1735- 

Eridanus,  the  mythical  and  poetical 
name  of  the  river  Po,  H.  Oet.  186. 
See  Phaethontiades. 

Erinyes,  the  furies,  H.  Fur.  982; 
Med.  952;  Oed.  590;  Agam.  83; 
Thy.  251;  H.  Oet.  609,  671;  Oct. 
23,  161,  263,  619,  913.    See  Furies. 

Eryx,  the  son  of  Butes  and  Venus,  a 
famous  boxer,  overcome  by  Her- 
cules, H.  Fur.  481;  a  mountain  in 
Sicily,  said  to  have  been  named 
from  the  preceding,  Oed.  600. 

ETEOCLES  (Phoenissae),  one  of  the 
two  sons  of  Oedipus  and  Jocasta. 
After  Oedipus  went  into  voluntary 
banishment,  abandoning  the  throne 
of  Thebes  {Phoen.  104),  Eteocles 
and  Polynices  agreed  to  reign  alter- 
nately, each  a  year.  Eteocles,  the 
elder,  first  ascended  the  throne,  but 


Mythological     Index 


5ii 


when  his  year  was  up  refused  to 
give  way  to  his  brother,  Phoen. 
55,  280,  389.  See  PoLYNICES. 
Eumenides  ("the  gracious  ones"), 
a  euphemistic  name  for  the  furies, 
H.  Fur.  87;   H.  Oet.  1002. 

Kcroiw,  daughter  of  Agenor,  king  of 
Tyre,  beloved  of  Jupiter,  who,  in 
the  form  of  a  bull,  carried  her  away 
to  Crete,  Oct.  206,  766;  H.  Oet. 
550;  this  episode  is  immortalized 
by  the  constellation  of  Taurus, 
which  rises  in  April,  H.  Fur.  9; 
sought  in  vain  by  her  brother  Cad- 
mus, Oed.  715;  the  continent  of 
Europe  named  after  her,  Agam. 
205,  274;    Tro.  896. 

EURYBATES  {Agamemnon),  a  mes- 
senger of  Agamemnon  who  an- 
nounces the  victory  of  the  Greeks 
over  Troy,  and  the  near  approach 
of  the  hero  to  Mycenae,  A  gam.  392; 
he  relates  at  great  length  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  Greek  fleet  by  storm 
and  shipwreck  on  the  homeward 
voyage,  ibid.  *42i. 

Eurydice,  the  wife  of  Orpheus,  slain 
by  a  serpent's  sting  on  her  wedding 
day;  story  of  Orpheus'  quest  for 
her  in  hades,  H.  Fur.  *$tg;  res- 
cued by  Orpheus  from  the  lower 
world,  but  lost  again,  II.  Oel. 
♦1084.    See  Orpheus. 

Eurystheus,  the  son  of  Sthenelus 
and  grandson  of  Perseus,  w-ho,  by 
a  trick  of  Juno,  was  given  power 
over  Hercules,  and,  at  Juno's 
instance,  set  to  Hercules  his  various 
labors,  H.  Oet.  403;  H.  Fur.  78, 
479,  526,  830;  lord  of  Argos  and 
Mycenae,  ibid.  1180;  H.  Oet.  1800; 
his  time  of  punishment  will  come, 
ibid.  1973. 

Eurytus,  king  of  Oechalia  and  father 
of  Iole,  H.  Oet.  1490;  he  and  his 
house  destroyed  by  Hercules  be- 
cause he  refused  the  lattcr's  suit 
for  Iole,  ibid.  100,  207,  221;  H. 
Fur.  477.     See  Hercules. 


Fescennine,    of    Fescennia,   an    an- 
cient town  of  Etruria,  famous  for 


a  species  of  coarse,  jeering  dialogues 
in  verse  which  bear  its  name,  Med. 
"3- 
Fortune,  the  goddess  of  fate,  ruling 
over  the  affairs  of  men,  //.  Fur. 
326,  524;  Tro.  *i,  *25o,  269,  697, 
735;  Phoen.  82,  308,  452;  Med. 
159,  176,  287;  Hip.  979,  1 1 24, 
1143;  Oed.  11,  86,  674,  786,  825, 
934;  Agam.  28,  58,  72,  89,  101, 
248,  594,  698;  H.  Oet.  697;  Oct. 
36>  377.  479.  563>  888,  898,  931, 
962;    Thy.  618. 

Furies,  avenging  goddesses,  dwelling 
in  hades,  set  to  punish  and  torment 
men  both  on  earth  and  in  the  lower 
world;  described  and  appealed  to 
for  aid  in  punishment  of  Jason, 
Med.  13;  Juno  plots  to  summon 
them  from  hades  in  order  to  drive 
Hercules  to  madness,  H.  Fur.  86; 
described  as  to  their  horrible  physi- 
cal aspect,  ibid.  87;  described  in 
clairvoyant  vision  by  Cassandra, 
Agam.  *759;  moving  in  bands,  Thy. 
78,  250;  Med.  958;  one  of  the 
furies  used  as  a  character  in  dramatic 
prologue,  driving  the  ghost  of 
Thyestes  on  to  perform  his  mission, 
Thy.  +23.  See  Eumenides,  Erin- 
yes, Megaera,  Tisiphone. 


Gemini,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 
the  Twins,  Castor  and  Pollux, 
Thy.  853. 

Geryon,  a  mythical  king  in  Spain 
having  three  bodies;  Hercules  slew 
him  and  brought  his  famous  cattle 
to   Eurystheu>   as   his   tenth    labor, 

//.  Fur.  21 1,  4S7,  1 170;  Agam.&$r, 
II.     Oel.     26,     1204,     1900.     See 

Hl.RCULES. 

GHOSTS!  The  ghost  appears  as  a 
dramatis  persona  in  the  following 
plays:  Agamemnon,  in  which  the 
ghost  of  Thyestes  appears  in  the  pro- 
logue to  urge  Aegisthus  on  to  fulfil 
his  mission;  Thyestes,  in  which  the 
ghost  of  Tantalus  similarly  ap] 
in  the  prologue;  Octovia,  in  which 
the  ghost  of  Agrippina  appears. 
In    the   following   plays   the   ghost 


5" 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


affects  the  action  though  not  actu- 
ally appearing  upon  the  stage: 
Troades,  in  which  the  ghost  of 
Achilles  is  reported  to  have  appeared 
to  the  Greeks  and  demanded  the 
sacrifice  <>f  Polyxena,  168  ff.; 
Andromache  also  claims  to  have 
seen  the  ghost  of  I  [ector  warning  her 
of  the  impending  fate  of  Aslyanax, 
443  iT.;  Oedipus,  in  which  the  ghost 
of  Laius  and  other  departed  spirits 
are  described  as  set  free  by  the  necro- 
mancy of  Tiresias,  58a  IT. ;  Medea,  in 
which  the  mangled  ghost  of  Absyrtus 
seems  to  appear  to  the  distracted 
Medea,  963;  ghosts  appear  larger 
than  mortal  forms,  Oed.  175. 

GIANTS,  monstrous  sons  of  Earth, 
fabled  to  have  made  war  upon  the 
gods,  scaling  heaven  by  piling  moun- 
tains  (Pelion,  Ossa,  and  Olympus) 
one  on  another,  Tro.  829;  Thy.  804, 
8io,  1084;  H.  Fur.  445;  they  were 
overthrown  by  the  thunderbolt  of 
Jupiter,  H.  Oet.  1302;  Oed.  91;  with 
the  help  of  Hercules,  H.  Oet.  1215; 
buried  under  Sicily,  ibid.  1309; 
seem  to  the  mad  Hercules  to  be  again 
in  arms,  and  to  be  hurling  moun- 
tains, H.  Fur.  976;  after  death  of 
Hercules  there  is  danger  that  they 
will  again  pile  up  mountains  and 
scale  heaven,  H.  Oet.  1139,  *n5i- 
See  Briareus,  Enceladus,  Gyas, 
Mimas,  Othrys,  Typhoeus,  Ti- 
tans. 

Golden  Age,  the  first  age  of  man- 
kind, when  peace  and  innocence 
reigned  on  the  earth;  described, 
Hip.  +525;    Oct.  *395;   Med.  +329. 

Golden-Fleeced  Ram,  (i)  the  ram 
on  which  Phrixus  and  his  sister, 
Helle,  escaped  from  Boeotia;  as  they 
fled  through  the  air  Helle  fell  off 
into  the  sea,  Tro.  1035;  on  arrival 
at  Colchis  Phrixus  sacrificed  the 
ram  and  gave  his  wonderful  fleece 
to  King  Aectes,  who  hung  it  in  a  tree 
sacred  to  Mars.  This  fleece  was 
the  prize  sought  by  the  Argonauts 
under  Jason,  Med.  361,  471.  See 
Phrixus,  Helle,  Argonauts.  (2) 
The  emblem  and  pledge  of  sove- 


reignty in    the    house    of    Pelops, 
Thy.  *22S- 

Gorgon,  Medusa,  one  of  the  three 
daughters  of  Phorcys,  whose  head 
was  covered  with  snaky  locks,  and 
sight  of  whom  had  power  to  turn 
to  stone.  She  was  killed  by  Per- 
seus, and  her  head  presented  to 
Minerva  who  fixed  it  upon  her 
shield,  H.  Oet.  96;  Agam.  530. 
See  Perseus. 

Gracchi,  two  popular  leaders  of  the 
Sempronian  gens,  quoted  as 
examples  of  men  brought  to  ruin 
by  popular  renown,  Oct.  882. 

Gradivus,  a  surname  of  Mars,  H. 

Fur.  1342. 
Gyas,  one  of  the  giants  who  sought  to 

dethrone  Jove,  H.  Oet.  167,  1139. 

H 

Hades,  the  place  of  departed  spirits, 
situated  in  the  under  world;  the 
upper  world  entrance  to,  and  down- 
ward-leading passage,  H.  Fur.  662; 
description  of,  ibid.  547;  Theseus, 
returned  with  Hercules  from  hades, 
describes  in  great  detail  the  places 
and  persons  of  the  lower  world,  ibid. 
**658;  chorus  sings  of  the  world  of 
the  dead  and  of  the  thronging 
peoples  who  constantly  pour  into  its 
all-holding  depths,  ibid.  *83o;  its 
torments  and  personages  described 
by  ghost  of  Tantalus,  Thy.  1;  its 
regions  and  inhabitants  seen  by 
Creon  through  the  yawning  chasm 
in  the  earth  made  by  Tiresias'  in- 
cantations,   Oed.    *s82. 

Harpies,  mythical  monsters,  half 
woman  and  half  bird;  driven  from 
Phineus  by  Zetes  and  Calais,  Med. 
782;  still  torment  Phineus  in  hades 
as  upon  earth,  H.  Fur.  759;  used 
as  type  of  winged  speed,  Phoen.  424. 

Hebe,  the  daughter  of  Juno,  cup- 
bearer to  the  gods,  and  given  as 
bride  to  the  deified  Hercules,  Oct. 
2X1. 

Hecate,  daughter  of  Perses,  presider 
over  enchantments;  often  identified 
with  Proserpina  as  the  underworld 


M'.Y  T1IOLOCICAL      INDEX 


513 


manifestation  of  the  deity  seen  in 
Diana  on  earth  and  Luna  in  heaven, 
H.  Oet.  15 19;  Med.  6,  577,  833,  841; 
Tro.  389;   Hip.  412;   Oed.  569. 

Hector,  the  son  of  Priam  and  Hecuba, 
husband  of  Andromache,  the  bravest 
warrior  and  chief  support  of  Troy, 
Tro.  1 25;  burns  the  Greek  fleet,  ibid. 
444;  A  gam.  743;  slays  Patroclus, 
Tro.  446;  slain  by  Achilles  and  his 
body  dragged  around  the  walls  of 
Troy,  ibid.  *Aiy,  Again.  743;  his 
body  ransomed  by  Priam,  ibid.  447; 
lamented  by  the  band  of  captive 
Trojan  women,  Tro.  98;  his  ghost 
warns  Andromache  in  a  dream  of 
the  danger  of  their  son  Astyanax, 
ibid.  443;  she  hides  the  boy  in 
Hector's  tomb,  ibid.  498;  she  loves 
Astyanax  for  the  boy's  resemblance 
to  his  father,  ibid.  646. 

HECUBA  (Troades), the  wife  of  Priam, 
unhappily  survives  Troy;  as  one  of 
tin-  captive  Trojan  women,  leads 
them  in  a  lament  for  Troy's  down- 
fall, for  Hector  and  Priam,  Tro.  *i; 
before  the  birth  of  Paris,  dreamed 
that  she  had  given  birth  to  a  fire- 
brand, ibid.  36;  her  once  happy 
estate  described,  and  contrasted 
with  her  present  wretchedness,  ibid. 
♦958;  given  to  Ulysses  by  lot,  ibid. 
980;  having  suffered  the  loss  of  all 
her  loved  ones  she  is  at  last  changed 
into  a  dog,  A  gam.  *705;  rejoices  for 
the  first  time  after  Hector's  death 
on  occasion  of  wooden  horse  being 
taken  into  Troy,  ibid.  648. 

HELEN*  (Troades),  daughter  of  Jupiter 
and  Leda,  sister  of  Clytemnestra, 
wife  of  Menelaiis,  reputed  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  Greece;  given 
by  Venus  to  Paris  as  a  reward  for 
his  judgment  in  her  favor,  Oct.  773; 
tied  from  her  husband  for  love 
of  Paris,  Again.  123;  afterward 
pardoned  by  Agamemnon  and  re- 
turned home  with  Mcnclaiis,  ibid. 
273;  sent  by  Greeks  to  deceive 
Polyxena  and  prepare  her  for  sacri- 
fice on  tomb  of  Achilles,  Tro.  861; 
cursed  by  Andromache  as  the  com- 
mon scourge  of  Greeks  and  Trojans, 


ibid.  *892;  bewails  and  describes 
her  own  hard  lot,  ibid.  905;  she  is 
not  to  blame  for  the  woes  of  Troy, 
ibid.  917. 

Helle,  sister  of  Phrixus,  who  fled 
with  him  on  the  golden  fleeced  ram, 
and  fell  off  into  the  sea  which  then- 
after  bore  her  name  (Hellespont), 
Tro.  1034;  Thy.  851.  See  Phrixus. 

Hercean  Jove,  an  epithet  of  Jupiter 
as  the  protector  of  the  house;  it  was 
at  his  altar  in  the  courtyard  of  his 
own  palace  that  Priam  was  slain, 
Tro.  140;    Agam.  448,  793. 

HERCU1  .ES  (Hercules  Furens,  Her- 
cules Oetaeus),  the  son  of  Jupiter 
and  Alcmena,  H.  Fur.  20;  H.  Oet. 
7  and  passim;  night  unnaturally 
prolonged  at  his  conception,  Agam. 
814;  H.  Fur.  24,  1 158;  H.  Oet. 
147,  1500,1697,1864;  in  his  infancy 
he  strangled  the  two  serpents  which 
Juno  sent  against  him  in  his  cradle, 
H.  Fur.  *2i4;  H.  Oet.  1205;  by  a 
trick  of  Juno  who  hastened  the 
birth  of  Eurystheus,  made  subject  to 
Eurystheus  who  set  him  various 
labors,  H.  Oet.  403;  H.  Fur.  78,  5  24, 
♦830.  These  twelve  labors  are  as 
follows:  (1)  The  killing  of  the 
Nemean  lion,  H.  Fur.  46,  224; 
H.  Oet.  16,  411,  1 192,  1235,  1885; 
Agam.  829;  (2)  the  destruction  of 
the  hydra  of  Lerna,  Agam.  835; 
Med.  701;  H.  Fur.  46,  241,  529, 
780,  1 195;  H.  Oet.  19,  918,  1 193, 
1534,  18 13;  (3)  the  capture  alive  of 
the  Arcadian  stag,  famous  for  its 
fleetness  and  its  golden  antlers, 
H.  Fur.  222;  H.  Oet.  17,  1238; 
Again.  831;  (4)  the  capture  of  the 
wild  boar  of  Erymanthus,  H.  Fur. 
228;  //.  Oet.  1536,  1888;  Agam.  832; 
(5)  the  1  Lansing  of  the  Augean 
ibles,  //.  Fur.  247;  (6)  the  killing 
of  the  Stymphalian  birds,  //.  Fur. 
244;  FI.  Oct.  17,  1237,  1813,  1- 
Agam.  850;  (7)  the  capture  of  the 
Cretan  bull,  //.  lur,  230;  //.  Oet. 
27;  Agam.  834;  (8)  the  obtaining 
of  the  mares  of  l  liomedes  which  fed 
on  human  flesh  and  the  slaying  of 
Diomedes    himself,    //.    Fur.    226; 


5J  i 


Tim      Tragedies    of     Seneca 


//.    Oct.    bo,    1538,    1S1.1,    1894; 

.  >.•-  8  1  2;   (9)  the  securing  of  the 

girdle  of  Hippolyte,  //.  lur.  245, 

//.  (  V/    ai,  1  183,  1450;   Again. 

848;  1  to)  the  killing  of  Geryon  and 
the  capture  of  his  oxen,  //.  Fur.  231, 
487;  II.  Oet.  20,  1204,  1900;  Again. 

.  1 1 1)  the  securing  <>f  the  golden 
apples  <>f  the  rlesperides,  H.  Fur. 
239.  53°;  H.  Oet.  18;   Phoen.  316; 

.■•;;.  *852;  (12)  the  descent  to 
hades  and  bringing  to  the  upper 
world  of  the  dog  Cerberus,  11.  lur. 
*4"»  **7"o;  H.  Oet.  23,  1162,  1244; 
A  gam.  859.  Other  heroic  deeds 
done  by  Hercules  are  as  follows: 
he  bore  up  the  heavens  upon  his 
shoulders  in  place  of  Atlas,  H.  Fur. 
*(yg,  528,  1101;  H.  Oet.  282,  1241, 
1764,  1905;  burst  a  passage  for  the 
river  Peneus  between  Ossa  and 
(  Mvmpus,  II.  Fur.  +283;  rent  Calpe 
and  Abyla  (the  "Pillars  of  Hercu- 
les") apart  and  made  a  passage  for 
the  Mediterranean  Sea  into  the 
ocean,  H.  Fur.  237;  H.  Oet.  1240, 
1253,  1569;  fought  with  and  over- 
came the  Centaurs,  ibid.  1195; 
fought  with  Acheloiis  for  the  pos- 
session of  Deianira,  ibid.  299,  495; 
slew  the  centaur  Nessus  who  was 
carrying  off  his  bride,  ibid.  *5oo, 
921;  overcame  Eryx,  the  famous 
boxer,  H.  Fur.  481;  slew  Antaeus, 
H.  Fur.  482,  1 171;  H.  Oet.  24, 
1899;  killed  Busiris,  H.  Fur.  483; 
H.  Oet.  26;  Tro.  n  06;  slew  Cyc- 
nus,  son  of  Mars,  H.  Fur.  485;  killed 
Zetes  and  Calais,  Med.  634;  killed 
Periclymenus,  ibid.  635;  wounded 
Pluto,  who  was  going  to  the  aid  of 
the  Pylians,  H.  Fur.  560;  wrecked 
off  the  African  coast,  he  made  his 
way  on  foot  to  the  shore,  ibid.  319; 
assisted  the  gods  in  their  fight  against 
the  giants,  ibid.  444;  capured  Troy 
with  aid  of  Telamon  during  the  reign 
of  Laomedon,  Tro.  136,  719;  his 
arrows  said  to  be  twice  fated  for  the 
destruction  of  Troy,  ibid.  825; 
Agam.  863;  forced  Charon  to  bear 
him  across  the  Lethe  (not  Styx), 
H.  Fur.  +762;  H.  Oet.  1556; 
rescued  Theseus  from  hades,  Hip. 


S43;  //.  Fur.  S06;  //.  Oet.  1197, 
i;')S;  overcame  Kurvtus,  king  of 
Oechalia,  //.  Fur.  477;  //  <  ><7.  422. 
More  or  less  extended  recapitula- 
tions of  the  deeds  of  Hercules  arc 

found  in  the  following  passages: 
Agam.  808-866;  H.  Fur.  205-308, 
481-487,  524-560;  II.  Oet.  1-98, 
410-435,  1161-1206,  1218-1257, 
1518-1606,  1810-1830,  1872-1939. 
The  loves  of  Hercules  are  as  follows: 
llesionc,  daughter  of  Laomedon, 
rescued  from  the  sea-monster,  and 
made  captive  to  Hercules  with  the 
first  fall  of  Troy;  he  afterward 
gave  her  to  Telamon,  H.  Oet.  363; 
Auge,  daughter  of  Aleus,  king  of 
Tegea,  ibid.  367;  the  Thespiades, 
the  fifty  daughters  of  Thespius, 
ibid.  369;  Omphale,  queen  of  Lydia, 
to  whom  Hercules,  in  expiation  of  an 
act  of  sacrilege,  went  into  voluntary 
servitude  for  three  years,  ibid  *37i, 
573;  H.  Fur.  +465;  Hip.  317; 
lole,  daughter  of  Eurytus,  king  of 
Oechalia,  whom  Hercules  destroyed 
because  lole  was  denied  to  him, 
H.  Oet.  100,  207,  221;  H.  Fur. 
477.  His  wives  were  (1)  Megara, 
daughter  of  Creon,  king  of  Thebes; 
Hercules,  in  a  fit  of  madness,  brought 
upon  him  by  Juno's  machinations, 
slew  her  and  his  children  by  her, 
H.  Fur.  *gSj,  *ioio;  H.  Oet.  429, 
903;  when  his  sanity  returned, 
Theseus  promised  him  cleansing 
for  his  crime  by  Mars  at  Athens, 
H.  Fur.  134 1 ;  elsewhere  said  to 
have  been  cleansed  by  washing  in 
the  Cinyps,  a  river  in  Africa,  H.  Oet. 
907;  (2)  Deianira,  daughter  of 
Oeneus,  king  of  Calydonia.  See 
Deianira  and  Achelous.  The 
favorite  tree  of  Hercules  was  the 
poplar,  H.  Fur.  894,  912;  H.  Oet. 
1 64 1.  Hercules  himself  was  des- 
tined to  come  to  a  tragic  end  after 
a  life  of  great  deeds,  Med.  637;  his 
death  was  in  accordance  with  an 
oracle  which  declared  that  he  should 
die  by  the  hand  of  one  whom  he  had 
slain,  H.  Oet.  1473;  Deianira, 
ignorantly  seeking  to  regain  her 
husband's  love  from  lole,  sends  him 


Mythological    Index 


5i5 


a  robe  anointed  with  the  poisoned 
blood  of  Nessus,  ibid.  535;  Lichas 
bears  the  robe  to  his  master,  ibid. 
569;  Hercules  was  worshiping 
Cenaean  Jove  in  Euboea  when  the 
robe  was  brought  to  him,  ibid.  775; 
his  sufferings  caused  by  the  terrible 
burning  poison  described,  ibid, 
*749,  1 218;  hurls  Lichas,  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  his  pains,  over  a  clilT, 
ibid.  809;  after  dire  suffering,  is 
borne  by  boat  from  Euboea  to  Mi. 
Oeta  where  he  was  to  perish,  ibid. 
839;  he  orders  a  funeral  pyre  to 
be  built  for  him  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  ibid.  1483;  speculation 
upon  his  probable  place  in  heaven 
after  death,  ibid.  1565;  his  glorious 
and  triumphant  death  in  the  midst 
of  the  flames  described,  ibid.  **i6io, 
1726;  his  fated  bow  is  presented  by 
the  dying  hero  to  his  friend  Philoc- 
tctes,  ibid.  1648;  his  ashes  are 
collected  into  an  urn  by  his  mother, 
Alcmena,  ibid.  1758;  Medea  was 
iid  to  have  in  her  magical  store 
some  of  the  ashes  of  Oeta's  pyre 
soaked  with  the  dying  (poisoned) 
blood  of  Hercules,  Med.  777;  the 
voice  of  the  hero  is  heard  from 
heaven,  declaring  that  he  has 
been  deified,  H.  Oet.  *i94o;  now 
received  into  heaven  as  a  god, 
in  spite  of  Juno's  opposition, 
he  is  given  Hebe  as  his  wife, 
Oct.  210. 

Hr.RMioxK,  daughter  of  Menelaiis  and 
Helen;  the  Trojans  pray  that  she 
may  suffer  the  same  doom  as  Polyx- 
ena,  Tro.  1134. 

Hesione,  daughter  of  Eaomedon,  ex- 
posed to  a  sea-monster  sent  by 
Neptune  to  punish  the  perfidy  of 
Laomedon.  She  was  res<  ued  by 
Hercules  and  captured  by  him  when 
he  with  Tclamon's  aid  took  Troy, 
H.  Oet.  363. 

Hesperides,  Apples  of,  golden  a|  .pies 
on  certain  islands  far  in  the  west, 
watched  over  by  three  nymphs, 
and  guarded  by  a  sleepless  dragon; 
it  was  the  eleventh  labor  of  Hercules 
to  get  these  apples  and  take  them  to 


Eurystheus,    Again.    852;     Phcen. 
316;   If.  Fur.  239,  530. 

1 1 i  sperus,  the  evening  star,  messenger 
of  night,  Med.  87S;  Hip.  750; 
H.  Fur.  883;  impatiently  awaited 
by  lovers,  Med.  7 2:  as  example  of 
perverted  nature,  Hesperus  will 
bring  in  the  day,  Phoen.  87;  func- 
tions of  evening  and  morning  stars 
interchanged  at  the  conception  of 
Hercules,  H.  Fur.  821;  H.  Oet.  1  10. 

HlEROSCOPiA  (extispiciinn),  a  method 
of  prophesying  by  inspecting  the 
viscera  of  a  newly  slain  sacrificial 
victim  practiced  by  Tiresias  in  his 
effort  to  discover  the  murderer  of 
Laius,  Oed.  *353- 

HrppODAMlA,  daughter  of  Oenomaiis, 
king  of  Pisa.     See  Myrtilus. 

Hippolyte,  a  queen  of  the  Amazons, 
possessed  of  the  belt  of  Mars;  Eurys- 
theus imposed  upon  Hercules  as  his 
ninth  labor  that  he  should  secure  and 
bring  this  belt,  or  girdle,  to  him; 
this  the  hero  accomplished,  A  gam. 
848;  H.  Fur.  245,  542;  H.  Oet.  21, 
"83,  1450. 

HIPPOLYTUS  (Hippolytus),  son  of 
Theseus  and  Hippolyte,  or,  accord- 
ing to  others, of  Theseus  and  Ant in|  „■; 
represented  as  devoted  to  the  hunt, 
and  to  Diana,  the  goddess  of  the 
hunt,  Hip.  1;  the  object  of  the 
guiltv  love  of  Phaedra,  his  father's 
wife,  ibid.  *c;9;  he  hates  and  avoids 
all  womankind,  ibid.  230;  his  severe 
life  as  a  recluse  described,  ibid.  435; 
sings  the  praises  of  the  simple  life  in 
the  woods  and  fields,  and  contrasts 
this  with  city  life,  ibid.  ^483;  is 
charged  with  a  criminal  attack  upon 
I'll  icdra,  ibid.  725;  his  death 
caused  by  a  monster  sent  by  Nep- 
tune in  response  to  the  prayer  of 
Theseus,  ibtd.  1000;  his  innocence 
discovered,  ibid.  1 191. 

Il\  ides,  daughters  of  Atlas  and  sister> 
of    the    Pleiades;     a    constellation 

seemingly   borne  on  the   horns  of 
Taurus,  Th  1  storm-bringing 

constellation,  but  not  yet  recognized 
as  such  in  the  golden  age,  Med.  311; 


5i6 


T BE    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


disturbed  by  the  magic  power  of 

Medea,  ibid.  769. 
HYDRA,  >  mOOSter  which  infested  the 
marsh  of  Lerna;    it  had  eight  beads, 

and  one  besides  which  was  im- 
mortal When  any  one  of  the 
eight  heads  was  severed  there  sprang 
forth  two  in  its  stead.  After  a 
desperate  struggle  with  this  creature, 
Hercules  killed  it  as  his  second 
labor  assigned  by  Eurysthcus,  Again. 
835;  Med.  701;  H.  Fur.  46,  241, 
529,  780,  1 195;  H.  Oet.  19,  94,  851, 
914,  918,  1193,  1534,  1650,  1813, 
1927. 

IIylas,  a  beautiful  youth,  beloved  by 
Hercules,  who  accompanied  that 
hero  on  the  Argonautic  expedition; 
while  stopping  on  the  coast  of  Mysia 
for  water,  the  boy  was  seized  and 
kept  by  the  water-nymphs  of  a  stream 
into  which  he  had  dipped  his  urn, 
Hip.  780:  Med.  +647. 

HYLLl'S  {Hercules  Oetaeus),  son  of 
Hercules  and  Deianira;  describes  to 
his  mother  the  terrible  sufferings  of 
Hercules  after  putting  on  the  poi- 
soned robe,  H.  Oet.  742;  called  the 
grandson  of  Jove,  ibid.  142 1;  Iole  is 
consigned  to  him  as  his  wife  by  the 
dying  Hercules,  ibid.  1490. 

HYMEN,  the  god  of  marriage,  Tro. 
861,  895;  Med.  *66,  no,  116,  300. 

Hypermnestra,  one  of  the  fifty 
daughters  of  Danaiis,  who  refused 
to  murder  her  husband  at  her 
father's  command,  H.  Fur.  500; 
for  this  act  of  mercy,  she  is  not  suf- 
fering among  her  sisters  in  hades, 
H.  Oet.  948.     See  Danaides. 

I 

Icarus,  the  son  of  Daedalus,  who, 
attempting  to  escape  from  Crete  on 
wings  which  his  father  had  made, 
melted  the  wax  of  his  wings  by  a 
flight  too  near  the  sun,  and  so  fell 
into  the  sea  which  took  its  name 
from  him,  Agam.  506;  Oed.  *892; 
H.  Oet.  686.     See  Daedalus. 

Idmon,  son  of  Apollo  and  Asteria,  one 
of   the   Argonauts,    with   prophetic 


power;  be  died  from  the  stroke  of  a 

wild  hoar,  not,  as  Senei  a  says,  from 

a  serpent's  bite,  Med.  652. 

INO,  daughter  of  Cadmus,  sister  of 
Semele,  wife  of  Athamas,  king  of 

Thebes.  Her  busband,  driven  mad 
by  Juno,  because  I  no  had  nursed  tin- 
infant  Bacchus,  attempted  to  slay 
her,  but  she  escaped  him  by  leaping 

off  a  high  cliff  into  the  sea  with  her 
son  Melicerta.  They  were  both 
changed  into  sea-divinities,  Phoen. 
22;  Oed.  445.     See  Palaemon. 

IOLE  (Hercules  Oetaeus),  daughter  of 
Eurytus,  king  of  Occhalia.  She 
was  sought  in  marriage  by  Hercules, 
who  destroyed  her  father  and  all  his 
house  because  she  was  refused  to 
him,  H.  Oet.  221;  in  captivity  to 
Hercules,  she  mourns  her  fate,  ibid. 
173;  sent  as  a  captive  to  Deianira, 
ibid.  224;  her  reception  by  Deianira 
described,  ibid.  237;  is  consigned  to 
Hyllus  as  wife,  by  the  dying  Hercu- 
les, ibid.  1490. 

Iphigenia,  daughter  of  Agamemnon 
and  Clytemnestra;  taken  from  her 
mother  to  be  sacrificed  at  Aulis,  on 
the  pretext  that  she  was  to  be 
married  to  Achilles,  Agam.  158;  sac- 
rificed to  appease  Diana  to  the  end 
that  the  Greek  fleet  might  be  allowed 
to  sail  from  Aulis,  ibid.  160;  Tro. 
249,  360;  her  sacrifice  described, 
Agam.  *i64;  rescued  by  Diana  at 
the  last  moment  and  taken  to  serve 
in  the  goddess'  temple  at  Tauris, 
Oct.  972. 

Iris,  the  messenger  of  Juno,  and  god- 
dess of  the  rainbow,  Oed.  315. 

Itys,  son  of  Tereus,  king  of  Thrace, 
and  Procne,  who,  to  punish  her  hus- 
band for  his  outrage  upon  her  sister, 
Philomela,  slew  the  boy  Itys  and 
served  him  as  a  banquet  to  his  father. 
The  sisters,  changed  to  birds,  ever 
bewail  Itys,  H.  Oet.  192;  Agam. 
670. 

Ixiox,  for  his  insult  to  Juno  fixed  to 
an  ever-revolving  wheel  in  hades, 
Hip.  1236;  Thy.  8;  Agam.  15; 
Oct.  623;  H.  Fur.  750;  H.  Oet.  945, 


Mythological    Index 


5i7 


ion;  his  wheel  stood  still  at  the 
music  of  Orpheus,  ibid.  1068;  Medea 
prays  that  he  may  leave  his  wheel 
and  come  to  Corinth,  and  that  Creon 
may  take  his  place  upon  the  wheel, 
Med.  744.     See  Nephele. 

J 

J  ASON  (Medea),  son  of  Aeson,  king  of 
Thessaly,  and  nephew  of  the  usurp- 
ing  king,  Pelias.  He  was  pursuaded 
by  Pelias  to  undertake  the  adven- 
ture of  the  Golden  Fleece,  for  which 
he  organized  and  led  the  Argonautic 
expedition.  He  was  able  to  perform 
the  hard  tasks  in  Colchis  which  King 
Aectes  set,  through  the  aid  of  Medea: 
the  taming  of  the  fire-breathing  bull, 
Med.  121,  241,  466;  overcoming  of 
the  giants  sprung  from  the  sown 
serpents'  teeth,  ibid.  467;  putting 
to  sleep  of  the  ever-watchful  dragon, 
ibid.  471;  he  had  had  no  part  in  the 
murder  of  Pelias  for  which  he  and 
Medea  were  driven  out  of  Thessaly, 
ibid.  262;  but  this  and  all  Medea's 
crimes  had  been  done  for  his  sake, 
ibid.  *275;  living  in  exile  in  Corinth, 
he  is  forced  by  Creon  into  a  marriage 
with  the  king's  daughter,  Creiisa, 
ibid.  137;  Medea  imprecates  a 
dreadful  curse  upon  him,  ibid.  19; 
he  laments  the  hard  dilemma  in 
which  he  finds  himself  placed,  ibid. 
431;  and  at  last  decides  to  yield  to 
Creon's  demands  for  the  sake  of  his 
children,  ibid.  441. 

JOCASTA  (Oedipus,  Phoenissae),  wife 
of  Lalus,  king  of  Thebes,  mother 
and  afterward  wife  of  Oedipus;  on 
learning  that  Oedipus  is  her  son, 
she  kills  herself  in  an  agony  of  grief 
and  shame,  Oed.  1024.  According 
to  another  version  of  the  story,  she 
is  still  living  after  the  events  leading 
to  the  voluntary  exile  of  Oedipus; 
she  bewails  the  fratricidal  strife 
between  her  two  sons,  Eteocles  and 
I'  'lyniccs,  and  knows  not  with 
which  she  ought  to  side,  Phoen.  377; 
rushing  between  the  two  hosts,  she 
pleads  with  her  sons  to  be  reconciled 
with  each  other,  ibid.  *443- 


JUDGES  in  Hades,  Aeacus,  Minos,  and 
Rhadamanthus,  weep  for  the  tir^t 
time  on  hearing  <  >rpheus'  plaintive 

strains,  Jf.  bur.  579;  Theseus 
describes  at  length  their  persons  and 
their  judgments,  the  moral  law  under 
which  the  souls  of  nun  are  judged, 
and  the  punishments  and  rewards 
meted  out  after  judgment,  ibid. 
**7 27 . 

Julia,  daughter  of  Drusus  and  Livia 
Drusilla,  exiled  and  afterward 
slain,  Oct.  944. 

JUNO  (Hercules  Furens),  speaks  the 
prologue,  revealing  her  motive  in 
bringing  about  the  catastrophe  of  the 
play;  she  recounts  in  order  Jove's 
infidelities  with  mortals  whose 
constellations  she  points  out,  and 
relates  especially  her  fruitless 
struggles  with  Hercules;  she  cannot 
overcome  him  by  any  toil  which  she 
can  invent,  H.  Fur.  *i;  she  looks 
forward  with  hatred  and  dread  to  the 
time  when  Hercules  will  force  his 
entrance  into  heaven,  ibid.  64;  she 
is  cited  to  Octavia  by  her  nurse  as  a 
type  of  wife  who,  by  wise  manage- 
ment, finally  won  a  wayward  hus- 
band's love  to  herself  again,  Oct. 
*20i;  hymn  in  praise  of,  A  gam.  340; 
Argos  is  dear  to  her,  ibid.  809. 

Jupiter,  lord  of  Olympus,  ruler  of  the 
skies  and  seasons,  Hip.  *96o;  ruler 
of  heaven  and  earth,  to  whom 
victors  consecrate  their  spoils, .<4 gam. 
*8o2;  his  mother,  Rhea,  brought  him 
forth  in  Crete  and  hid  him  in  a  cave 
of  Mount  Ida,  lest  his  father,  Saturn, 
should  discover  and  destroy  him, 
H.  Fur.  459;  hymn  in  praise  of» 
Again.  3S1;  his  thunderbolts  are 
forged  in  Aetna,  Hip.  150;  his 
amours  with  mortals  are  as  follows: 
with  Leda  to  whom  he  appeared  in 
the  form  of  a  swan,  Hip.  301; 
II.  Fur.  14;  with  Europa,  in  form 
of  a  bull,  Hip.  303;  H.  Fur.  9; 
H.  Oet.  550;  with  Danae.  in  form  of 
a  golden  shower,  //.  Fur.  13;  with 
Callisto,  ibid.  6;  the  Pleiades  (Elec- 
tra,  Maia,  Taygete),  ibid.  10; 
Latona,  ibid.  15;   Semele,  ibid.  16; 


5i8 


The  Tragedies  of  Seneca 


Akmena,  ihid.  22.      For  his  am  ient 

oracle  in  Epirus,  Bee  Dodona;   see 

also  Hi  rci  \n  Jove  and  Cknaeum. 
J  rs  in  a  (Justitio),  the  goddess  As- 
traea,  whooni  e  lived  on  earth  during 
the  innocence  of  man  in  the  golden 
age  of  Saturn,  Oct.  «o8j  she  lied 
the  earth  when  sin  became  domi- 
nant, ibid.  424.     Sec  Astraka. 

L 

Labdacih ak,  a  name  for  the  Thebans, 

derived  from  Labdacus,  king  of 
Thebes,  father  of  Lai'us,  Oed.  710; 
Phoen.  53;  H.  Fur.  495. 

LacHESIS,  one  of  the  three  fates,  or 
Parcae,  who  measured  out  the  thread 
of  human  life,  Oed.  985.  The  other 
two  were  Clotho  and  Atropos.  See 
Clotho. 

Laertes,  the  father  of  Ulysses,  dwel- 
ling in  Ithaca,  Tro.  700;  "feels  the 
shock  of  reeling  Ithaca"  in  a  storm, 
Thy.  587. 

LAlUS,  king  of  Thebes,  husband  of 
Jocasta,  father  of  Oedipus,  whom, 
fearing  an  oracle,  he  had  exposed  in 
infancy;  at  the  time  of  the  opening 
of  the  play  of  Oedipus,  he  had  been 
murdered  by  an  unknown  man,  and 
his  murder  must  be  avenged  before 
the  plague  afflicting  Thebes  can  be 
relieved,  Oed.  *2iy,  place  and 
supposed  manner  of  his  death  de- 
scribed to  Oedipus  by  Creon,  ibid. 
♦276;  time  and  circumstances  of  his 
murder  described  by  Jocasta,  ibid. 
yj6;  his  shade  is  raised  by  Tiresias 
and  declares  that  Oedipus  is  his 
murderer,  ibid.  +619;  his  shade 
seems  to  appear  to  the  blind  Oedipus 
in  exile  and  call  him  to  death,  Phoen. 
39- 

Laomedon,  king  of  Troy,  father  of 
Priam;  he  deceived  Apollo  and 
Neptune,  who  built  the  walls  of 
Troy,  and  again  cheated  Hercules 
out  of  his  promised  reward  for 
delivering  Hesione;  hence  his  house 
is  called  a  "  lying  house,"  Agam.  864. 

Lapithae,  a  tribe  of  Thessaly,  asso- 
ciated in  story  with  the  Centaurs, 
and    both    with    a    great    struggle 


against  Hercules  in  which  they  were 
worsted  by  that  hero;  in  hades  they 
still  fear  their  great  enemy  when  he 
appears,  //.  Fur.  779. 

Latona,  beloved  of  Jupiter,  to  whom 
she  bore  Apollo  and  Diana;  hence 
these  gods  are  I  ailed  the  children  of 

Latona,  Agam.  324;  the  Boating 
island,  Delos,  was  the  only  spot 
allowed  her  by  the  jealous  Juno  for 
the  birth  of  her  children,  II.  Fur.  15. 

Leda,  the  wife  of  Tyndarus,  king  of 
Sparta;  she  was  beloved  by  Jupiter 
in  the  form  of  a  swan,  Oct.  205,  764; 
and  became  by  him  the  mother  of 
Castor  and  Pollux,  who  were  falsely 
called  Tyndaridae,  and  set  in  the 
heavens  as  constellations,  H.  Fur. 
14;  Oct.  208;  Clytemnestra  was 
the  daughter  of  Leda  and  Tyndarus, 
Agam.  125,  234. 

Lemnos,  an  island  in  the  Aegean  Sea, 
the  seat  of  fierce  fires,  as  connected 
with  the  fall  of  Vulcan  on  that  island 
where  he  established  his  forges, 
H.  Oet.  1362;  according  to  story  all 
the  Lemnian  women  at  one  time, 
except  Hypsipylc,  murdered  all  their 
male  relatives,  Agam.  566. 

Leo,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of  the 
Lion,  representing  the  Nemean  lion 
slain  by  Hercules,  and  set  as  a  con- 
stellation in  the  sky,  H.  Fur.  69, 
945;  Thy.  855;  said  to  have  fallen 
from  the  moon,  where,  according 
to  the  opinion  of  the  Pythagoreans, 
all  monsters  had  their  origin,  H. 
Fur.  83. 

Lethe,  a  river  of  the  lower  world 
whose  waters  possessed  the  power  of 
causing  those  who  drank  of  them  to 
forget  the  past,  H.  Oet.  936;  H. 
Fur.  680;  Hip.  1202;  elsewhere  it 
loses  its  distinctive  meaning  and  is 
used  as  equivalent  to  Styx  or  the 
lower  world  in  general,  ibid.  147; 
Oed.  560;  H.  Oet.  1162,  1208,  1550, 
1985;  Charon  even  plies  his  boat 
over  this  river,  H.  Fur.  777. 

Libra,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 
the  Scales,  marking  the  autumnal 
equinox,  Hip.  839;    Thy.  858. 


Mythological    Index 


5i9 


Lichas,  the  ill-fated  bearer  of  the 
poisoned  robe  from  Dcianira  to 
Hercules,  thrown  over  a  cliff  by  the 
agonized  hero,  H.  Oet.  567,  570, 
809,  814,  978,  1460;  he  had  pre- 
viously been  sent  home  by  Hercules 
to  announce  the  hero's  triumph  over 
Eurytus,  ibid.  99. 

Livia,  the  wife  of  Drusus;  her  fate, 
Oct.  942. 

Lucifer,  the  morning  star,  or  "light- 
bringer,"  the  herald  of  the  sun,  Hip. 
752;   Oed.  507,  741;   H.  Oet.  149. 

Lucixa,  the  goddess  who  presides 
over  child-birth,  i.  e.,  DianaorLuna, 
Agam.  385;  Med.  2;  or  Juno,  ibid. 
61. 

Lucretia,  daughter  of  Lucretius,  wife 
of  Collatinus,  avenged  by  a  bloody 
war  for  the  outrage  committed  upon 
her  by  Srxtus  Tarquinius,  Oct.  300. 

Luna,  the  goddess  of  the  moon,  iden- 
tified with  Diana  upon  the  earth, 
called  also  Phoebe  as  sister  of 
Phoebus,  Oed.  44;  she  reflects  her 
brother's  fires,  ibid.  253;  and  passes 
his  car  in  shorter  course,  Thy.  838; 
in  love  with  Kndvmion,  she  seeks 
the  earth,  Hip.  309,  422,  785;  and 
gives  her  chariot  to  her  brother  to 
drive,  ibid.  310;  saved  by  the  clash- 
ing of  vessels  from  the  influence  of 
magic,  ibid.  790. 

Lycurgus,  a  king  of  Thrace,  who, 
for  his  opposition  to  Bacchus,  was 
destroyed  by  that  god,  H.  Fur.  903; 
Oed.  471. 

LYCUS  {Hercules.  Furens),  a  usurper, 
who  took  advantage  of  the  absence 
of  Hercules  in  hades,  and  slew  Creon 
and  his  sons,  and  is,  at  the  opening 
of  the  play,  ruler  in  Thebes,  H.  Fur. 
270;  he  boasts  that,  though  low 
born,  he  has  by  conquest  gained 
great  power  and  wealth,  ibid.  332; 
he  desires  to  repair  his  fault  of 
birth  by  a  union  with  Megara,  wife 
of  the  absent  Hercules,  and  daughter 
of  Creon,  ibid.  345;  proposes  mar- 
riage to  Megara,  ibid.  360;  is  scorned 
by  her,  ibid.  372;  is  slain  by 
Hercules,  ibid.  895. 


Lvnceus,  one  of  the  Argonautic 
heroes,  renowned  for  his  wonderful 
keenness  of  vision,  Med.  232. 

M 

Maeander,  a  river  of  Phrygia,  cele- 
brated for  its  exceedingly  winding 
course,  Phoen.  606;  used  to  illus- 
trate the  windings  of  the  river  Lethe, 
H.  Fur.  684. 

Maenads,  female  attendants  and 
worshippers  of  Bacchus,  Oed.  430; 
their  bewildered  madness  while 
under  the  inspiration  of  Bacchus, 
H.  Oet.  243;  their  unconsciousness 
of  pain,  Tro.  674;  they  go  wildly 
ranging  over  the  mountain  tops, 
Med.  383. 

Magic  Arts,  the  powers  of,  as  prac- 
ticed by  Medea,  Med.  670-842; 
by  Tiresias,  Oed.  548-625;  by  the 
nurse  of  Deianira,  H.  Oet.  452-64. 

MANTO  (Oedipus),  the  prophetic 
daughter  of  the  seer  Tiresias,  Again. 
22;  she  leads  her  blind  old  father 
into  the  presence  of  Oedipus,  Oed. 
290;  describes  the  appearance  of  the 
sacrifices   which  he  interprets,  ibid 

3°3- 
Mars,  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Juno, 
god  of  war,  Tro.  185,  783,  1058; 
Phoen.  527,  626,  630;  Med.  62; 
Hip.  465,  808;  Oct.  293;  Agam. 
548;  called  also  Mayors,  Hip.  550; 
Thy.  557;  Oed.  90;  used  of  war  or 
battle  itself,  ibid.  275,  646;  Agam. 
921;  the  amour  of  Mars  and  Venus 
was  discovered  by  Phoebus,  and  by 
him  with  the  aid  of  Vulcan  they  two 
were  caught  in  a  cunningly  wrought 
net;  for  this  reason  Venus  hates 
the  race  of  Phoebus,  Hip.  1 25;  Mars, 
summoned  to  judgment  by  Neptune 
for  the  murder  of  his  son,  was  tried 
and  acquitted  by  the  twelve  gods 
sitting  in  judgment  at  Athens  in  the 
Areopagus  (Mars  Hill),  //.  Fur. 
1342;    Mars  is  here  railed  Gradivus. 

MEDEA  (Medea),  daughter  of 
Aeeles,  king  of  Colchis,  and  grand- 
daughter of  Sol  and  I'  Med, 
28,  210;  the  grandeur  of  her  estate 
in  her  father's  kingdom,  ibid.  *209, 


5=o 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


$3;  mistress  <>f  magic  arts,  ibid. 
♦750;  by  means  of  these  arts  she 
helped   Jason  perform   the  deadly 

tasks  sit  him  by  Her  father,  ibid. 
[60,  4.67,  471;  helped  Jason  carry 
off  the  golden  fleece  upon  the  pos- 
session of  which  her  father's  king- 
dom depended,  ibid.  130;  left  her 
father's  realm  through  crime  fur 
love  of  Jason,  ibid,  ng;  slew  her 
brother,  Absyrtus,  and  strewed  his 
dismembered  body  upon  the  sea 
to  retard  her  father's  pursuit,  ibid 
tai;  II .  Oet.  950;  tricked  the 
daughters  of  Pelias  into  murdering 
their  father,  Med.  133,  201,  *258; 
driven  out  of  Thessaly  and  pursued 
by  Acastus,  she  with  Jason  sought  and 
received  a  place  of  safety  in  Corinth, 
ibid.  247,  257;  did  all  her  crimes  not 
for  her  own  but  for  Jason's  sake, 
ibid.  275;  exiled  now  by  Creon,  she 
obtains  one  day  of  respite,  ibid.  295; 
prepares  a  deadly,  enchanted  robe 
for  her  rival,  Creiisa,  ibid.  570;  her 
magic  incantations  described,  ibid. 
♦675;  sends  the  robe  to  Creiisa,  ibid. 
816;  and  rejoices  in  its  terrible  effect, 
ibid.  893;  kills  her  two  sons,  ibid. 
970,1019;  gloats  over  her  husband's 
misery  and  vanishes  in  the  air  in  a 
chariot  drawn  by  dragons,  ibid.  1025; 
goes  to  Athens  and  marries  Aegeus; 
is  a  type  of  an  evil  woman,  Hip.  563; 
the  stepmother  of  Theseus,  ibid. 
697. 

Medusa,  one  of  the  three  Gorgons, 
slain  by  Perseus.  He  cut  off  her 
head  which  had  the  power  of  petri- 
fying whatever  looked  upon  it,  and 
gave  it  to  Minerva  who  set  it  upon 
her  aegis,  Agam.  530;  her  gall  used 
by  Medea  in  magic,  Med.  831. 

Megaera,  one  of  the  furies,  sum- 
moned by  Juno  to  drive  Hercules  to 
madness,  H.  Fur.  102;  appears  to 
the  maddened  Medea  with  scourge 
of  serpents,  Med.  960;  seems  to 
appear  to  the  distracted  Deianira, 
H.  Oet.  1006,  1014;  summoned  by 
Atreus  to  assist  him  in  his  revenge 
upon  his  brother,  Thy.  252.  See 
Furies. 


MKC.ARA     (Hercules    Furcns),     the 

daughter  of  Creon,  king  of  Thebes, 

and  wife  of  Hercules,  //.  1'nr.  202; 
laments  the  constant  toils  which 
hold  her  husband  from  his  home, 
and  keep  her  anxious  for  his  life, 
ibid.  *205;  scorns  the  advances  of 
Lycus  who  has  usurped  the  throne 
of  Thebes,  ibid.  *372;  slain  by  her 
husband  in  his  lit  of  madness  brought 
upon  him  by  the  jealous  Juno,  ibid. 
1010;   H.  Oet.  429,  903,  1452. 

Meleager,  son  of  Oencus,  king  of 
Calydon,  and  Althaea;  his  tragic 
death  brought  upon  him  by  his 
mother's  wrath  because  he  had 
killed  her  brothers,  Med.  644,  779. 
See  Althaea. 

Melicerta,  see  Ino. 
Memnon,  the  son  of  Aurora,  slain  by 
Achilles,  Tro.  239;   Agam.  212. 

Menelaus,  son  of  Atreus,  brother  of 
Agamemnon,  husband  of  Helen, 
king  of  Sparta,  employed  by  his 
father  to  trick  his  uncle,  Thyestes, 
Thy.  327;  Helen  looks  forward  with 
fear  to  his  judgment,  Tro.  923;  he 
pardoned  Helen  for  her  desertion  of 
him  for  Paris,  Agam.  273. 

Merope,  the  wife  of  Polybus,  king  of 
Corinth;  she  adopted  the  infant 
Oedipus  and  brought  him  up  to 
manhood  as  her  own  child,  Oed. 
272,  661,  802. 

MessalIna,  the  wife  of  Claudius,  and 
mother  of  Octavia,  Oct.  to;  cursed 
by  Venus  with  insatiate  lust,  ibid. 
258;  openly  married  Silius  in  the 
absence  of  Claudius,  ibid.  *26o; 
slain  for  this  by  the  order  of  her 
husband,  ibid.  265;  her  former 
proud  estate,  as  the  wife  of  Claudius, 
contrasted  with  her  wretched  fate; 
her  death  described,  ibid.  *974- 

Mimas,  one  of  the  giants,  H.  Fur. 
981.     See  Giants. 

Minos,  a  son  of  Jupiter,  king  of  Crete; 
father  of  Phaedra,  Hip.  149;  father 
of  Ariadne,  ibid.  245;  widely 
ruling  and  powerful  monarch,  ibid. 
149;  no  daughter  of  Minos  loved 
without  sin,  ibid.   127;    because  of 


Mythological    Index 


521 


his  righteousness  on  earth,  made 
one  of  the  judges  in  hades,  A  gam. 
24;  Thy.  23;  H.  Fur.  733.  See 
Judges  in  Hades. 

Min'OTATJR,  a  hybrid  monster,  born 
of  the  union  of  Pasiphae,  the  wife 
of  Minos,  and  a  bull;  called  brother 
of  Phaedra,  Hip.  174;  confined  in 
the  labyrinth  in  Crete,  ibid.  649, 
1171. 

Mopsus,  a  Thessalian  soothsayer,  one 
of  the  Argonauts,  who  died  by  the 
bite  of  a  serpent  in  Libya,  Med. 
655- 

Mulciber,  one  of  the  names  of  Vul- 
can. He  gave  to  Medea  the  hidden 
fires  of  sulphur  for  her  magic,  Med. 
824. 

Mycale,  a  celebrated  witch  of  Thes- 
saly,  H.  Oet.  525. 

Mycenae,  a  city  of  Argolis,  near 
Argos;  its  walls  were  built  by  the 
hands  of  the  Cyclopes,  Thy.  407; 
//.  Fur.  997;  ruled  by  the  house  of 
Pelops,  Thy.  188,  561,  ion;  Tro. 
855;  the  favorite  city  of  Juno,  Again. 
351;  the  home  of  Agamemnon, 
ibid.  121,  251,  757,  871,  967,  998; 
Tro.  156,  245. 

Myrrha,  a  daughter  of  Cinyras,  who 
conceived  an  unnatural  passion  for 
her  father.  Pursued  by  him,  she 
was  changed  into  the  myrrh  tree, 
whose  exuding  gum  resembles  tears, 
H.  Oet.  196. 

Myrtilus,  a  son  of  Mercury,  char- 
ioteer of  Oenomaiis.  Bribed  by 
Pelops,  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Hippo- 
damia,  daughter  of  Oenomaiis,  he 
secretly  withdrew  the  linch-pins  of 
his  master's  chariot,  thus  wricking 
his  master's  car  in  the  race  which 
was  to  decide  the  success  of  Pelop's 
suit.  His  sin  and  fate  described, 
Thy.  140;  the  wrecked  chariot  pre- 
served as  a  trophy  in  the  palace  of 
the  Pelopidac,  ibid.  660. 

N 

Na&)ES,  fleities,  generally  conceived  as 
young   and   beautiful   maidens,   in- 


habiting brooks  and  springs.     Hip. 
780.     See  Hylas. 

Nauplius,  a  son  of  Neptune  and  king 
of  Euboea;  to  avenge  the  death  of 
his  son,  Palamedes,  he  lured  the 
Greek  fleet  to  destruction  by  dis- 
playing false  beacon  fires  off  the 
rocky  coast  of  Euboea,  Again.  +567; 
when,  however,  Ulysses,  whom  he 
hated  most,  escaped,  he  threw  him- 
self headlong  from  the  cliff,  Med. 
659.    See  Palamedes. 

Necromantia,  necromancy,  a  raising 
of  the  dead  for  purposes  of  consulta- 
tion; practiced  by  Tiresias,  in  his 
effort  to  discover  the  murderer  of 
Laius,  Oed.  **53C 

Nemean  Lion,  the  beast  slain  by 
Hercules  near  Nemea,  a  city  of  Argo- 
lis, as  the  first  of  his  twelve  labors, 
Agam.  830;  H.  Fur.  224:  H.  Oet. 
1193,  1235,  1665,  1885;  set  in  the 
heavens  as  a  zodiacal  constellation, 
Oed.  40.     See  Leo. 

Nephele,  the  cloud  form  of  Juno, 
devised  by  Jupiter,  upon  which 
I.vion  begot  the  centaur,  Ncssus,  in 
the  belieft  hat  it  was  Juno  herself, 
H.  Oet.  492. 

Neptune,  son  of  Saturn,  brother  of 
Jupiter  and  Pluto,  with  whom,  after 
the  dethronement  of  Saturn,  he  cast 
lots  for  the  three  great  divisions  of  his 
father's  realm:  the  second  lot, 
giving  him  the  sovereignty  over  the 
sea,  fell  to  Neptune,  Med.  4,  507; 
H.  Fur.  515,  599;  Oed.  a66;  Hip. 
904,  1 159;  rides  over  the  surface  of 
the  deep  in  his  car,  Oed.  254;  sends 
a  monster  out  of  the  sea  to  destroy 
Hippolytus  in  answer  to  the  prayer 
of  Theseus,  Hip.  1015;  assists 
Minerva  in  the  destruction  of  Ajax, 
the  son  of  Olleus,  in  the  great  storm 
which  assailed  the  Creek  fleet  upon 
its  homeward  voyage,  Agam.  55  j; 
bidden  by  Hercules  t<>  bide  beneath 
his  waves  lest  he  behold  Cerberus, 
H.  Fur.  600;  is  the  father  of  The- 
seus, to  whom  he  gave  three  wishes, 
ibid.  942;  other  sons  were  Cvcnus, 
Agam.  215;  Tro.  183;  and  I'ericly- 
menus,  Med.  635. 


59a 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Neri  rs,  a  sea  deity,  used  often,  by 
metonymy,  for  the  sea  itself ,  Otd. 
450,  508;  II.  Oet.  4;  Hip.  88; 
he  is  the  father  by  Doris  of  Thetis 
and  the  other  Nereids,  Tro.  882; 
Oed.  446;  even  they  feel  the  fires  of 
love,  Hip.  336. 

NERO  {Octaoia),  the  son  of  Cn. 
Domithis  Ahenobarbus  and  Agrip- 
pina, Oct.  249;  married  his  step- 
^-istrr,  ( Ictavia,  whom  he  treated  with 

great  eruelty;  his  character  depicted 
by  her,  ibid.  86;  emperor  from  A.  d. 
54  until  his  death  in  68;  murdered 
his  mother,  ibid.  46,  95,  243;  lauds 
the  beauty  of  Poppaea  and  an- 
nounces her  as  his  next  wife,  ibid. 
544;  his  death  prophesied  and  de- 
scribed by  the  ghost  of  Agrippina, 
ibid.  **6i8;  decrees  the  banishment 
and  death  of  Octavia,  ibid.  861. 

Nessus,  a  centaur,  son  of  Ixion  and 
Nephele,  H.  Oet.  492;  insults 
Deianira,  is  slain  by  Hercules,  and 
while  dying  gives  a  portion  of  his 
blood,  reeking  with  the  poison  of  the 
arrow  of  Hercules,  to  Deianira  as 
a  charm  which  shall  recall  to  her 
her  husband's  wandering  affections, 
ibid.  *5oo;  some  of  this  blood  is  in 
Medea's  collection  of  charms,  Med. 
775;  the  terrible  power  of  this 
poisoned  blood  tested  by  Deianira 
after  she  has  innocently  sent  the 
fatal  robe  to  her  husband,  H.  Oet. 
716;  Nessus  declared  to  have  been 
the  one  who  conceived  the  plot 
against  Hercules,  while  Deianira 
was  but  the  innocent  instrument, 
ibid.  1468. 

Niobe,  daughter  of  Tantalus,  wife  of 
Amphion,  king  of  Thebes;  punished 
by  the  loss  of  her  seven  sons  and 
seven  daughters  by  Diana  for  her 
defiance  of  Latona,  the  mother  of 
the  goddess,  A  gam.  392;  changed  to 
stone,  she  still  sits  on  the  top  of  Mt. 
Sipylus  and  mourns  for  her  lost 
children,  Agam.  394;  H.  Fur.  390; 
H.  Oet.  185,  1849;  ber  shade  comes 
up  from  hades,  still  proudly  counting 
her  children's  shades,  Oed.  613. 

Nyctelius,   an   epithet   of   Bacchus, 


because    his    mysteries   were    cele- 
brated at  night,  Oed.  492. 

O 

OCTAVIA  (Octavia),  the  daughter  of 
the  Emperor  Claudius  and  Mcssa- 
lina,  the  latter  having  been  murdered 
by  order  of  Claudius  himself,  Oct. 
10;  and  the  former  by  his  second 
wife,  Agrippina,  ibid.  26,  45;  she 
became  first  the  stepsister  and  then 
the  wife  of  Nero,  ibid.  47;  with 
whom  she  led  a  most  wretched  life, 
ibid.  *ioo;  she  had  previously  been 
betrothed  to  Silanus,  ibid.  145;  but 
he  was  murdered  to  make  way  for 
Nero,  ibid.  154;  she  was  beloved  by 
her  people,  ibid.  183;  is  compared 
with  Juno  in  that  she  is  both  sister 
and  wife  of  her  husband,  ibid.  282; 
doomed  by  Nero  to  exile  and  death, 
ibid.  868;  banished  to  Panditaria, 
ibid.  971. 

Odrysian  House,  that  is,  of  the 
Thracian  king,  Tereus,  whose  house 
was  polluted  by  a  horrible  banquet 
in  which  his  own  son  was  served  up 
to  him,  Thy.  273. 

OEDIPUS  (Oedipus,  Phoenissae), 
the  son  of  Jocasta  and  of  Laius, 
king  of  Thebes.  An  oracle  had 
declared  that  Laius  should  meet 
death  at  the  hands  of  his  son. 
Oedipus  was  accordingly  doomed 
before  birth  to  be  slain,  Oed.  34, 
235;  Phoen.  243;  at  birth  he  was 
exposed  upon  Mt.  Cithaeron,  ibid. 
13,  *27,  with  an  iron  rod  through  his 
ankles,  ibid.  254;  Oed.  857;  carried 
by  a  shepherd  and  given  to  Merope, 
wife  of  the  king  of  Corinth,  by 
whom  he  was  brought  up  as  her  own 
son,  ibid.  806;  grown  to  young  man- 
hood, he  fled  the  kingdom  of  his 
supposed  parents  that  he  might  not 
fulfil  an  oracle  that  had  come  to 
him,  that  he  should  kill  his  father 
and  wed  his  mother,  ibid.  12,  263; 
in  the  course  of  his  flight  he  met  and 
killed  Laius,  his  real  father,  Phoen. 
166,  260;  Oed.j68,  782;  he  answered 
the  riddle  of  the  Sphinx,  and  so 
saved  Thebes  from  that  pest,  Phoen. 


Mythological    Index 


523 


120;  Oed.  *92,  216;  as  a  reward 
for  this  he  gained  the  throne  of 
Thebes,  and  Jocasui  (his  real 
mother)  as  his  wife,  Oed.  104; 
Phoen.  50,  26a;  Oed.  386;  H.  Fur. 
3S8;  attempts  to  find  out  the  mur- 
derer of  King  Laius,  and  utters  a 
mighty  curse  upon  the  unknown 
criminal,  ibid.  *257;  declared  by 
the  ghost  of  Laius,  which  Tiresias 
had  raised,  to  be  his  father's  mur- 
derer and  his  mother's  husband,  ihid. 
♦634;  he  refutes  this  charge  by  the 
assertion  that  his  father  and  mother 
are  still  living  in  Corinth,  ibid.  661; 
learns  by  messenger  that  Polybus 
and  Merope  arc  not  his  true  parents, 
ibid.  784;  rushes  on  his  fate  and 
forces  old  Phorbas  to  reveal  the 
secret  of  his  birth,  ibid.  *848;  in  a 
frenzy  of  grief,  he  digs  out  his  eyes, 
ibid.  915;  goes  forth  into  exile,  thus 
lifting  the  curse  from  Thebes,  ibid. 
1042;  Phoen.  104;  he  begs  Antigone, 
who  alone  had  followed  him  into 
exile,  to  leave  him,  bewailing  his 
fate  and  longing  for  death,  ibid.  1. 

Ogyges,  a  mythical  founder  and  king 
of  Thebes;  hence — 

Ogygian,  i.  e.,  Theban,  an  epithet  of 
Bacchus,  whose  mother  was  a  The- 
ban princess,  Oed.  437;  an  epithet 
of  the  Thebans,  ibid.  589. 

OIleus,  used  instead  of  his  son,  Ajax, 
Med.  662.     See  Ajax. 

Olexus,  a  city  in  Aetolia,  Tro.  826; 
Oed.  283;  hence — 

Oelexian  Goat,  so  called  because 
it  was  nurtured  in  the  vicinity  of 
this  place.     See  Amai.thea. 

OMPHALE,  a  queen  of  I.ydia,  to  whose 
service  Hercules  submitted  for  tl 
year-,  //.  Get.  *37I,  573;    H.  Fur. 
465;   Hip.  317.     See  Hkrcules. 

Ophxon,  one  of  the  companions  of 
Cadmus,  sprung  from  the  serpent's 
teeth;  in  adjectival  form,  it  means 
simply  Theban,  //.  Fur.  268;  refer- 
ring to  Pentheus,  Oed.   \ 

OPHlCcurs,  the  northern  constella- 
tion of  the  "Serpent  Holder,"  repre- 


senting a  man   holding  a  serpent, 
Med.  698. 

ORESTES  {Agamemnon),  son  of 
Agamemnon  and  Clytcmnestra, 
Agani.  196;  Tro.  555;  saved  by  his 
sister,  through  the  agency  of  Stro- 
phius,  king  of  Phocis,  from  death  at 
the  hands  of  his  mother  and  Aegis- 
thus,  Again.  910;  avenged  his 
father's  murder,  Oct.  62. 

Orion,  said  to  have  been  miraculously 
generated  by  Jupiter,  Neptune,  and 
Mercury,  out  of  an  ox's  hide;  set 
as  a  constellation  in  the  heavens, 
where  his  glittering  sword  menaces 
the  heavenly  ones,  H.  Fur.  12. 

Orpheus,  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the 
muse  Calliope,  Med.  625;  king  of 
Thrace;  one  of  the  Argonauts;  a 
sweet  singer  and  harper,  whose  mu- 
sic could  draw  to  him  the  rocks  and 
trees,  ibid.  228;  H.  Oet.  *io36; 
dropped  his  lyre  in  fear  of  the 
Symplegades,  Med.  348;  played  so 
sweetly  that  the  Argonauts  were  not 
enchanted  by  the  Sirens,  ibid.  *355; 
went  to  hades  in  search  of  his  wife, 
Eurydice,  and  by  the  charm  of  his 
music  persuaded  the  gods  of  the 
lower  world  to  release  her;  but  he 
lost  her  again,  because  he  did  not 
keep  the  condition  imposed  upon 
him,  //.  Fur.  **569;  H.  Oet.  *io6i; 
Med.  632;  he  sang  that  nothing  is 
everlasting,  H.  Oet.  1035,  1100; 
his  tragic  death  at  the  hands  of  the 
Thracian  women,  Med.  *62$. 

P 

Pactolus,  a  river  of  Lydia,  celebrated 
for  its  golden  sands,  Phoen.  604; 
Oed.  467. 

I\\i  \\\  an  appellation  given  to  Apollo, 
who  gained  the  oracle  at  Delphi  and 
earned  a  place  in  heaven  by  slaying 
the  Python,  //.  Oet.  92. 

PALAEMON,  once  a  mortal,  called 
Melj(  erta,  30I]  of  Athamas  and  Ino, 

but  changed  by  Neptune  into  a 

divinity,  Oed.  448.     S1.1   Ino. 
PALAM&DES,  s<>n  of  Xauplius,  king  of 
Euboea;  he  was  put  to  death  by  the 
Greeks  on  false  charges  brought  by 


524 


The     Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Ulysses,  and  was  avenged  by  his 
father,  who  displayed  false  lights  to 
the  Greek  fleet,  Again.  568. 

Pallas,  an  appellation  given  to  the 
goddess  Minerva.  She  was  the 
friend  and  helper  of  Hercules  in  his 
various  labors,  H.  Fur.  900;  the 
bearer  of  the  terrible  aegis  upon 
which  was  set  the  horrible  Medusa's 
head,  ibid.  902;  Again.  530;  the 
patroness  of  woman's  handicrafts, 
Hip.  103;  the  patron  goddess  of  the 
Athenians,  ibid.  1149;  helps  to 
overthrow  Troy,  Again.  370;  stirs 
up  the  storm  at  sea  against  the 
Greek  ships,  ibid.  529;  wields  the 
thunderbolts  of  Jove,  with  which 
she  destroys  Ajax,  the  son  of  Oiileus, 
ibid.  *532;  hymn  in  praise  of,  ibid. 
368-81;  helped  in  the  building  of 
the  Argo,  Med.  2,  365. 

Pandataria,  a  lonely  island  off  the 
coast  of  Italy,  used  as  a  place  of 
exile  under  the  Empire,  Oct.  972. 

PandIon,  a  mythical  king  of  Athens, 
father  of  Procne  and  Philomela, 
both  of  whom  were  changed  to  birds. 
These  "Pandionian  birds"  are  cited 
as  types  of  grief-stricken  beings, 
Oct.  8. 

Parcae,  the  three  personified  fates 
("harsh  sisters"),  who  spin  out  the 
threads  of  human  life,  H.  Fur.  181; 
represented  with  the  distaff  in  hand, 
ibid.  559.  See  Clotho  and 
Lachesis. 

Paris,  son  of  Priam  and  Hecuba. 
He  was  doomed  before  birth  to 
destroy  his  native  land,  Tro.  36; 
exposed  to  die  on  Mount  Ida,  but 
preserved  by  shepherds  and  brought 
up  in  ignorance  of  his  true  parentage, 
Again.  733;  the  famous  "judgment 
of  Paris,"  Tro.  66;  from  Helen's 
standpoint,  ibid.  920;  Cassandra,  in 
her  inspired  ravings,  describes  this 
scene,  Again.  *73o;  goes  to  the 
court  of  Menelaiis  and  abducts 
Helen,  Tro.  70;  slays  Achilles,  ibid. 
347.  956- 

Parrhasian  (i.  e.,  Arcadian)  hind, 
captured  by  Hercules  as  his  third 


labor,  Agam.  831;    bear,  Hip.  288; 
axis  (i.  e.,  Northern),  H.  Oet.  1281. 

Pasipfiae,  a  daughter  of  the  Sun  and 
Persci's,  and  wife  of  Minos,  king  of 
Crete;  conceived  an  unnatural 
passion  for  a  bull,  Hip.  113,  143; 
mother  of  the  bull-man  monster, 
the  Minotaur,  ibid.  *688. 

Patroclus,  one  of  the  Grecian  chiefs 
before  Troy,  beloved  friend  of 
Achilles;  he  fought  in  disguise  in 
Achilles'  armor,  Agam.  617;  was 
slain  by  Hector,  Tro.  446. 

Pegasus,  a  winged  horse,  offspring  of 
Neptune  and  Medusa;  used  to  illus- 
trate extreme  speed,  Tro.  385. 

Peleus,  son  of  Aeacus,  and  king  of 
Thessaly;  married  the  sea-goddess, 
Thetis,  Oct.  708;  Med.  657;  father 
of  Achilles,  Tro.  247,  882;  Agam. 
616;  one  of  the  Argonauts,  died  in 
exile,  Med.  657. 

Pelias,  the  usurping  king  of  Iolchos 
in  Thessaly,  whence  he  drove  the 
rightful  king,  Aeson,  the  father  of 
Jason.  It  was  he  who  proposed 
the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  for 
this  he  was  doomed  to  suffer  a  violent 
death,  Med.  664;  tricked  by  Medea, 
his  daughters  slew  him,  cut  him  in 
pieces,  and  boiled  these  in  a  pot  in 
the  expectation  that  through  the 
magic  of  Medea  Pelias  would  come 
forth  rejuvenated,  Med.  133,  201, 
258,  47s,  913. 

Pelion,  a  range  of  mountains  in 
Thessaly  whose  principal  summit 
rises  near  Iolchos;  the  giants  piled 
Pelion,  Ossa,  and  Olympus,  one  on 
another,  in  their  attempt  to  scale 
the  heavens,  H.  Fur.  971;  Tro.  829; 
Agam.  *346;  Thy.  812;  H.  Oet. 
1 152;  the  home  of  the  Centaur, 
Chiron,  who  educated  the  young 
Achilles,  H.  Fur.  971;  Tro.  *S>t,o; 
furnished  the  timbers  for  the  Argo, 
Med.  609. 

PelopIa,  a  daughter  of  Thyestes,  who 
became  by  him  the  mother  of  Aegis- 
thus,  Agam.  30,  294. 

Pelops,  the  son  of  Tantalus;  he  was 
slain  by  his  father  and  served  as  a 


Mythological    Index 


525 


banquet  to  the  gods,  Thy.  *i\\\ 
restored   by  the  gods  to  life,   and 

Tantalus  punished  (see  Tantalus); 
Tantalus  and  Pclops  models  for 
outrageous  sin,  ibid.  242;  his  house 
doomed  to  sin,  ibid.  22;  degenerate 
and  shameful,  ibid.  625;  supposed 
to  have  been  the  settler  of  the  Pel- 
oponnesus (whence  the  name  of  the 
land),  having  come  from  Phrygia, 
II.  Pur.  1 165;  Tro.  855;  Agam. 
563;  his  palace  described  at  length, 
Thy.  *6+i. 

Pelorus,  a  promontory  in  Sicily  oppo- 
site the  coast  of  Italy;  Sicilian 
Pelorus  shall  be  one  land  with 
Italy — stated  as  type  of  the  last 
extreme  of  improbability,  H.  Oet. 
81;  the  sea-monster  Scylla  was 
supposed  to  dwell  under  this  prom- 
ontory, Med.  350. 

Pentuksilea,  a  celebrated  queen  of 
the  Amazons,  who  came  to  the  aid 
of  Priam;  she  was  armed  with 
battle-axe  and  moon-shaped  shield, 
Agam.  217;  her  fierce  struggles  in 
battle  described,  Tro.  672;  slain  by 
Achilles,  ibid.  243. 

Pkxtheus,  a  king  of  Thebes,  son  of 
Echion  and  Agave;  he  opposed  the 
introduction  of  the  worship  of  Bac- 
chus into  his  kingdom;  while 
spying  on  his  mother  and  her  sisters 
who  were  engaged  in  the  worship  of 
Bacchus  on  Mt.  Cithaeron,  he  was 
torn  in  pieces  by  them  whom  Bac- 
chus had  driven  to  madness,  Phoen. 
l5>  363'>  Oed.  44 1,  4S3;  his  shade 
comes  up  from  hades,  torn  and 
bleeding  still,  ibid.  618. 

Pkriclymkxus,  a  son  of  Neptune,  who 
had  power  of  changing  into  various 
forms;  he  was  one  of  the  Arg<  inauts, 
and  was  slain  by  Hercules,  Med.  635. 

Perseus,  son  of  Danac  whom  Jove 
approached  in  the  form  of  a  golden 
shower,  H.  Fur.  13;  earned  a  place 
in  heaven  by  slaying  the  Gorgon, 
H.  Oet.  51,  94. 

PHAEDRA  (Hippolyt  us  or  Plmedra) , 
daughter  of  Minos,  king  of  Crete, 
and  Pasiphae,  daughter  of  the  Sun, 


Hip.  155,  156,  678,  688,  888;  the 
Minotaur  is  her  brother,  ibid.  174; 
Ariadne  was  her  sister,  ibid.  760, 
245;  bewails  her  exile  from  Crete, 
and  her  marriage  to  a  foreign  and  a 
hostile  prince  (Theseus),  ibid.  85; 
confesses  to  her  nurse  that  she  is 
swayed  by  an  unnatural  passion, 
ibid.  113;  confesses  her  love  to 
Hippolytus,  ibid.  640;  is  scorned  by 
him,  ibid.  *67i;  confesses  her  sin 
to  her  husband  and  slays  herself, 
ibid.  1 159. 

Phaethon,  son  of  Clymene  and  Phoe- 
bus; desiring  to  prove  his  sonship 
to  Phoebus,  he  claimed  the  privilege 
of  driving  his  father's  chariot  for 
one  day;  he  was  hurled  from  the  car 
by  the  runaway  steeds,  Hip.  1090; 
and  smitten  to  death  by  a  thunder- 
bolt of  Jove,  H.  Oet.  854;  he  is  a 
warning  against  over-ambition  and 
impious  daring,  ibid.  677;  Med.  599; 
gave  a  magic  fire  to  Medea,  ibid. 
826. 

Phaethontiades,  the  sisters  of  Phae- 
thon, who  immoderately  wept  for 
his  death  where  his  charred  body 
fell  on  the  banks  of  the  Po,  and  were 
changed  into  poplar  trees,  H.  Oet. 
188. 

Phasis,  a  river  of  Colchis,  the  country 
of  Medea,  Med.  44,  211,  451,  762; 
Hip.  907;  Agam.  120;  Medea 
named  from  the  river,  H.  Oet.  950. 

Pherae,  a  city  in  Thessalv,  ruled  over 
by  Admetus,  husband  of  Alcestis, 
who  died  herself  that  SO  she  might 
redeem  him  from  death,  Med.  663; 
it  was  here  that  Apollo,  being  doom- 
ed to  serve  a  mortal  for  a  year,  kept 
the  flocks  of  Admetus,  II .  Fur.  451. 

PHILOCTETES  {Hercules  Octacus), 
a  Thessalian  prince,  son  of  Po 
and  a  friend  of  Hercules;  he  ap- 
pears upon  the  scene  of  the  death  of 
Hercules,  H.  Oet.  1604;  receives  the 
famous  bow  and  arrows  of  Hercules, 
ibid.  1648;  applies  the  torch  to  the 
pyre  of  bis  friend,  ibid.  1727;  de- 
scribes in  detail  to  the  DUTSe  the 
death  of  Hercules,  ibid.  *i6io. 


526 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Phojfpz,  a  city  of  Thrai  i ,  <  elebrated 
by  the  victory  gained  there  by 
Antony  and  Octavianus  over  the 
forcesof  Brutus  and  Cassius,  4  V/.516. 

Philomela,  a  daughter  of  Pandion, 

king  of  Alliens,  and  sister  of  Procne, 
who  had  married  Tereus,  king  of 
Thrace;  she  Buffered  outrage  at  his 
hands,  and,  with  her  sister,  punished 
him  by  slaying  his  son  Itys  and 
serving  him  to  the  father;  she  was 
changed  into  a  nightingale,  and 
ever  mourns  for  Itys,  Agam.  670; 
II.  Oet.  199;  described,  except  for 
her  name  (Thracia  pellex),  purely 
as  a  nightingale  singing  at  sunrise 
and  hovering  over  her  young,  H. 
Fur.  146. 
Piiisf.us,  king  of  Salmydcssus  on  the 
coast  of  Thrace;  blind  and  tor- 
mented by  the  Harpies,  Thy.  154; 
still  in  hades,  as  on  earth,  tor- 
mented, H.  Fur.  759. 

Phlegethon,  a  river  in  the  lower 
world,  flowing  with  streams  as  of 
fire,  Oed.  162;  Thy.  73,  1018;  it 
encircles  the  guilty  with  its  fiery 
streams,  Hip.  1227;  mentioned 
instead  of  the  Styx,  as  the  river  over 
which  Charon  rows  his  boat,  Agam. 
753;  connotes  hades  in  general, 
Hip.  848. 

Phlegra,  a  vale  in  Thrace  where  the 
giants  fought  with  the  gods,  Thy. 
810;  Hercules  assisted  the  gods  in 
this  struggle,  H.  Fur.  444. 

Phoebus,  one  of  the  names  of  Apollo 
as  the  "shining  one."  Under  this 
name  he  is  most  frequently  con- 
ceived of  as  the  sun-god,  driving  his 
fiery  chariot  across  the  sky,  seeing 
all  things,  darkening  his  face  or 
withdrawing  from  the  sky  at  sight 
of  monstrous  sin,  lord  of  the  chan- 
ging seasons,  etc.,  H.  Fur.  595,  607, 
844,  940;  Phoen.  87;  Med.  728, 
874;  Hip.  889;  Oed.  250;  Agam. 
42,  816;  Thy.  776,  789,  838;  H. 
Oet.  2,  680,  792,  1387,  1439,  1442; 
his  sister  is  Luna,  or  Phoebe,  H. 
Fur.  905;  Med.  86;  Hip.  311; 
Oed.  44;  the  name,  Phoebus,  is 
frequently  used  merely  of  the  sun, 


its  bright  light,  its  burning  heat,  etc 
without  personification,  H.  Fur. 
25,  940;  Tro.  1 140;  Med.  298,  768; 
Oed.  122,  540,  545;  Agam.  463,  577; 
Thy.  602;  H.  Oet.  41,  337,  666,  688, 
727,  1022,  1581,  1624,  1699;  he  is 
more  intimately  concerned  in  the 
affairs  of  men,  and  appears  on  earth; 
he  is  the  grandfather  of  Medea, 
Med.  512;  the  father  of  Pasiphae, 
Hip.  126,  154,  654,  889;  the  lover 
and  inspirerof  Cassandra,  Tro.  978; 
Agam.  255,  722;  he  is  god  of 
prophesy,  giving  oracles  to  mortals, 
Med.  86;  Oed.  20,  34,  214,  222,  225, 
231.  235,  269,  288,  291,  296,  719, 
1046;  Agam.  255,  294,  295;  he  is 
god  of  the  lyre,  H.  Fur.  906;  Oed. 
498;  Agam.  327;  and  of  the  bow, 
11.  Fur.  454;  Hip.  192;  Agam. 
327,  549;  his  tree  is  the  laurel,  Oed. 
228,  453;  Agam.  588;  Cilia  is  dear 
to  him,  Tro.  227;  he  is  the  beautiful 
god  of  the  flowing  locks,  Hip.  800; 
worshiped  under  the  name  of 
Smintheus,  Agam.  176;  hymn  in 
praise  of,  ibid.  310;  slew  the  Python 
with  his  arrows,  H.  Fur.  454; 
exposed  the  shame  of  Venus  and  for 
this  cause  Venus'  wrath  is  upon  his 
descendants,  Hip.  126;  he  kept 
the  flocks  of  Admetus,  king  of 
Pherae,  for  a  year,  ibid.  296. 

PHORBAS  (Oedipus),  an  old  man, 
head  shepherd  of  the  royal  flocks, 
forced  by  Oedipus  to  tell  the  secret 
of  the  king's  birth,  Oed.  867. 

Phrixus,  son  of  Athamas  and  Neph- 
ele,  and  brother  of  Helle;  persecuted 
by  his  stepmother,  Ino,  he  fled 
away  through  the  air  with  his  sister 
upon  a  golden-fleeced  ram  obtained 
from  Mercury,  Tro.  1034;  on  the 
way  Helle  fell  into  the  sea,  called 
Hellespont  from  this  incident,  H. 
Oet.  776;  for  this  same  reason  the 
Aegean  Sea  is  called  Phrixian  Sea, 
Agam.  565;  Phrixus  fared  on  alone 
to  Colchis,  where  he  sacrificed  the 
ram  and  presented  the  golden  fleece 
to  Aeetes;  the  golden  fleece  was 
the  object  of  the  quest  of  the  Argo- 
nauts, Med.  361,  471. 


Mythological    Index 


527 


Pirithous,  a  son  of  Ixion,  Hip.  1235; 
a  close  friendship  existed  between 
him  and  Theseus,  and  they  shared 
all  their  adventures;  when  Pirithous 
formed  the  mad  project  of  stealing 
Proserpina  from  hades,  Theseus 
accompanied  him  thither,  ibid.  94, 
244,  831. 

Pisa,  an  ancient  city  of  Klis  where  the 
Olympic  games,  sacred  to  Jove, 
were  held,  H.  Fur.  840;  Thy.  123; 
Agam.  938. 

Pisces,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 
the  Fish,   Thy.  866. 

Pleiades,  called  also  Atlantides,  the 
seven  daughters  of  Atlas  and 
Pleione,  three  of  whom,  Elcctra, 
Maia,  and  Taygete,  were  beloved 
of  Jove,  H.  Fur.  10;  spoken  of  as  a 
constellation  which  pales  before  the 
moon,  Med.  96. 

Plisthenes,  a  son  of  Thyestes,  slain 
by  Atreus,  Thy.  726. 

Pluto,  brother  of  Jupiter  and  Nep- 
tune, and  lord  of  the  under  world  of 
shades,  H.  Fur.  560,  658;  Oed.  256, 
869;  Med.  11;  Hip.  625,  1240; 
U.  Oet.  559,  935,  938,  1 142,  1369, 
1954;  he  is  called  the  "grim  Jove," 
H.  Fur.  608,  and  the  "dark  Jove," 
H.  Oet.  1705;  he  obtained  his  king- 
dom by  drawing  lots  with  his  two 
brothers,  H.  Fur.  833;  his  wife  is 
Proserpina,  ibid.  658;  Theseus  and 
Pirithous  try  to  steal  his  wife,  Hip. 
95;  they  are  punished  by  being 
placed  upon  an  enchanted  rock, 
ibid.  625;  he  is  prevailed  upon  by 
Hercules  to  give  up  Cerberus  to  be 
led  to  the  upper  world,  H .  Fur.  805; 
H.  Oet.  559;  at  the  same  time 
he  gives  up  Theseus  to  Hercules, 
H.  Fur.  805;  Hip.  11 52;  he  is  the 
uncle  of  Hercules,  //.  Oet.  328; 
and  of  Pallas,  Hip.  1152;  unmoved 
by  tears,  H.  Fur.  578;  conquered 
by  the  music  of  Orpheus,  ibid.  582; 
his  court  and  appearance  described, 
ibid.  *-j2i. 

Pollux,  see  Castor. 

Polybus,  king  of  Corinth,  who 
adopted    and    reared    the    exposed 


infant,  Oedipus,  Oed.  12,  270;  his 
peaceful  death  announced  by  mes- 
senger to  Oedipus,  ibid.  784. 

POLYNICES  (Phoenissae),  son  of 
Oedipus  and  Jocasta;  wronged  l>y 
his  brother  Eteocles  in  the  matter 
of  the  kingdom  of  Thebes,  he  Bed 
to  Adrastus,  king  of  Argos,  who 
gave  him  refuge  and  made  him  his 
son-in-law.  To  avenge  Polynices, 
Adrastus  marched  against  Thebes 
with  an  army  headed  by  seven 
famous  chiefs  of  Greece,  Phoen. 
58,  320;  Oedipus  prophesies  this 
fraternal  strife  and  predicts  that 
the  brothers  will  slay  each  other, 
ibid.  273,  334,  355;  remains  in 
exile  at  the  court  of  Adrastus  three 
years  before  returning  against 
Thebes  to  enforce  his  rights,  ibid. 
370,  *502;  the  hardships  of  his 
exile  described,  ibid.  *586;  appears 
before  the  walls  of  Thebes  at  the 
head  of  an  army,  ibid.  387;  the 
battle  pauses  while  Jocasta  app 
to  her  sons,  ibid.  434.  See 
Eteocles. 

PoLVXKNA,  a  daughter  of  Priam  and 
Hecuba,  one  of  the  captive  Trojan 
women;  the  ghost  of  Achilles,  who 
in  life  had  been  enamored  of  her, 
and  with  whom  both  Priam  and 
Hector  had  had  negotiations  touch- 
ing the  maiden,  appears  to  the 
Greeks  and  demands  that  she  be 
now  sacrificed  on  the  tomb  of 
Achilles,  Tro.  170;  Calchas  ratifies 
her  doom,  ibid.  360;  Helen  an- 
nounces this  fate  to  her,  and  she 
receives  it  with  joy,  ibid.  945;  her 
death  des<  ribed  in  detail  by  a  mes- 
senger, ibid.  *ni7;  she  is  described 
as  gaily  leading  the  Trojan  maidens 
in  a  dance  about  the  wooden  horse, 
unconscious  of  the  doom  so  soon  to 
come  to  her,  Agam.  641. 

Pi  HTA1.  \  (  hl.ivia),  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  unscrupulous  women 

of  her  time;    she  was  first  married  to 

Rufus  Crispinus,  a  prefect  of  pre- 
torian  cohorts  under  Claudius; 
she  abandoned  him  for  <  ►tho,  and 

him,  in  turn,  she  left  to  become  the 


The    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


mistress  «>f  Nero,  and  the  rival  of 
Nero's  wife,  Octavis,  Oct.  125;  in 
order  i"  further  her  schemes  she 
influenced  Nero  to  murder  his 
mother,  ibid.  u(>;  demanded  the 
death  of  ( ><  tavia,  ibid.  131 ;  with 
child  by  Nero,  ibid.  188,  591;  her 
rejection  by  Nero  prophesied,  ibid. 
[93;  her  beauty  lauded  by  Nero, 
who  announced  her  as  his  next 
wife,  ibid.  544;  her  wedding  with 
Nero  cursed  by  the  ghost  of  Agrip- 
pina,  ibid.  595;  her  marriage  de- 
scribed, ibid.  *6q8;  is  terrified  by 
strange  dream  of  Agrippina's  ghost, 
and  of  her  former  husband,  Cris- 
pinus,  ibid.  *"]i2. 

PRIAM,  king  of  Troy;  in  his  youth,  at 
the  first  taking  of  Troy,  he  was 
spared  by  Hercules  and  allowed  to 
retain  the  throne,  Tro.  719;  pic- 
tured as  viewing  the  contending 
hosts  from  the  battlements  of  Troy 
in  company  with  his  little  grandson, 
Astyanax,  ibid.  *io68;  sues  to 
Achilles  for  the  dead  body  of 
Hector,  ibid.  315,  324;  his  city 
destroyed  through  the  baleful  power 
of  love,  Oct.  817;  description  of  his 
death  at  the  hands  of  Pyrrhus, 
Tro.  *44;  Again.  655;  he  fell  before 
the  altar  of  Hercean  Jove,  Agam. 
448,  792;  pathetic  contrast  of  his 
death  with  his  former  greatness, 
Tro.  140. 

Procne,  daughter  of  Pandion,  and 
wife  of  Tereus,  king  of  Thrace;  she, 
in  revenge  for  the  outrage  upon  her 
sister,  Philomela,  committed  by  her 
husband,  served  to  him  his  own 
son,  Itys,  H.  Oet.  953;  Agam.  673; 
Thy.  275. 

Procrustes,  a  famous  robber  of 
Attica,  killed  by  Theseus,  Hip. 
1 170;    Thy.  1050. 

Proetides,  daughters  of  Proetus, 
king  of  Argohs;  they  counted 
themselves  more  beautiful  than 
Juno,  and  also  refused  to  worship 
Bacchus.  The  god  drove  them  to 
a  madness  in  which  they  thought 
themselves  cows,  and  went  wan- 
dering   through    the  woods.    This 


ad  won  for  him  the  favor  of  Juno, 
Oed.  486. 
Prometheus,  a  son  of  lapetus  and 
Clymene;  he  gave  the  gift  of  fire  to 
mortals,  Med.  8ai;  for  this  a<  t  he 
was  bound  by  Jove's  command  to  a 
«rag  of  Mount  Caucasus,  where  an 
eagle  fed  upon  his  ever-renewed 
vitals,  H.  Fur.  1206;  Med.  709; 
H.  Oet.  1378. 

Proserpina,  daughter  of  Ceres  and 
Jupiter;  stolen  away  by  Pluto  and 
made  his  queen  in  hades,  Med.  12; 
II.  Fur.  1 105;  sought  in  vain  by 
her  mother  over  the  whole  world, 
ibid.  659;  Pirithous  and  Theseus 
attempted  to  steal  her  away  from 
the  lower  world,  Hip.  95. 

Proteus,  son  of  Oceanus  and  Tethys, 
shepherd  and  guardian  of  the  sea- 
calves,  Hip.  1205. 

Pylades,  son  of  Strophius,  king  of 
Phocis,  and  one  of  the  sisters  of 
Agamemnon;  he  accompanied  his 
father  as  charioteer  on  the  occasion 
of  Strophius'  visit  to  Argos  just 
after  Agamemnon's  murder;  they 
take  Orestes  away  and  so  save  him 
from  death,  Agam.  940. 

PyromantIa,  soothsaying  by  means 
of  fire,  practiced  by  Tiresias  in  his 
effort  to  discover  the  murderer  of 
La'ius,  Oed.  *t,o-]. 

Pyrrha,  the  sister  of  Deucalion, 
saved  with  him  from  the  flood,  Tro. 
1038.     See  Deucalion. 

PYRRHUS  (Troades),  a  son  of  the 
young  Achilles  and  De'idamia,  the 
daughter  of  Lycomedes,  king  of 
Scyros;  born  on  the  island  of 
Scyros,  Tro.  339;  quarreled  with 
Ulysses  inside  the  wooden  horse, 
Agam.  635;  slew  old  Priam,  Tro. 
44,  3ID- 

Python,  a  huge  serpent  or  dragon 
that  sprang  from  the  slime  of  the 
earth  after  the  flood  had  subsided; 
slain  by  Apollo,  H.  Oet.  93;  Med. 
700. 

R 

Rhadamanthus,  a  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Europa,  and  brother  of  Minos;    he 


Mythological    Index 


529 


was  made  one  of  three  judges  in 
hades,  H.  Fur.  734. 
Rhesus,  a  king  of  Thrace  who  came, 

late  in  the  Trojan  War,  to  the  aid 
of  Priam;  there  was  an  oracle  that 
Troy  could  never  be  taken  if  the 
horses  of  Rhesus  should  drink  the 
waters  of  the  Xanthus,  and  feed 
upon  the  grass  of  the  Trojan  plain; 
this  oracle  was  frustrated  by  Ulysses 
and  Diomcdes,  A  gam.  216. 


Saturn,  son  of  Coelus  and  Terra, 
who  succeeded  to  his  father's  king- 
dom of  the  heavens  and  earth; 
the  golden  age  was  said  to  have 
been  in  his  reign,  Oct.  395;  had 
been  dethroned  by  his  three  sons, 
Jupiter,  Neptune,  and  Pluto,  who 
divided  up  his  kingdom  among 
themselves;  he  is  conceived  of  as 
chained  in  hades  by  Pluto,  H.  Oet. 
1 141;  Hercules  threatens  to  unchain 
him  against  Jove  unless  the  latter 
grant  him  a  place  in  heaven,  H. 
I ■  ur.  965. 

Scales  {Libra),  the  zodiacal  constel- 
lation marking  the  autumnal  equi- 
nox, H.  Fur.  842. 

Sciron,  a  celebrated  robber  in  Attica, 
who  threw  his  victims  over  the 
cliffs  into  the  sea;  he  was  slain  by 
Theseus,  Hip.  1023,  1225. 

Scorpion,  one  of  the  zodiacal  constel- 
lations, Thy.  859. 

Scylla,  one  of  the  two  shipwrecking 
monsters  in  the  Sicilian  Strait,  H. 
Fur.  376;  H.  Oet.  235;  Med.  350, 
407;   Thy.  579.     See  Charybdis. 

Scythia,  a  name  given  by  the  an- 
cients to  a  portion  of  northern  Asia 
of  indefinite  extent;  a  dcs<  ription  of 
its  nomadic  tribes,  frozen  streams, 
changing  aspect  of  the  country  with 
the  changing  seasons,  //.  Fur.  *533- 

Semele,  a  Theban  princess,  daughter 
of  Cadmus,  beloved  of  Jove  by 
whom  she  became  the  mother  1  if 
Bacchus,  H.  Fur.  16;  she  was 
blasted  by  a  thunderbolt  while  the 
child,    Bacchus,    was    still    unborn, 


//.  Fur.  457;  //.  Oet.  1804.  See 
I'>  acchus. 
SENECA  {Octavia),  introduced  into 
the  play  in  the  character  of  Nero's 
counselor,  Oct.  377;  he  recalls  his 
life  in  exile  in  Corsica,  and  con- 
siders it  far  happier  and  safer  than 
his  present  life,  ibid.  381;  he  strives 
in  vain  to  prevent  the  marriage 
of  Nero  and  Poppaea,  ibid.  695. 

Seres,  a  nation  of  Asia,  supposed  to 
be  identical  with  the  Chinese;  they 
gather  silken  threads  (spun  by  the 
silkworm)  from  trees,  H.  Oet.  666; 
Hip.  389- 

Silanus,  L.  Junius,  praetor  in  a.  d. 
49;  he  was  the  betrothed  husband 
of  Octavia,  but  put  out  of  the  way 
by  court  intriguers  that  Octavia 
might  marry  Nero,  Oct.  145. 

Silenus,  a  demigod,  the  foster-father 
and  constant  attendant  of  Bacchus, 
Oed.  429. 

Sinis,  a  giant  robber  of  the  Isthmus 
of  Corinth,  who  bent  down  tree- 
tops  and,  fixing  his  victims  to  thi 
shot  them  through  the  air;  he  was 
slain  by  Theseus,  H.  Oet.  1393; 
Hip.  1 169,  1223. 

Sinon,  a  Greek  warrior,  who  deceived 
the  Trojans  as  to  the  character  and 
purpose  of  the  wooden  horse,  and 
so  procured  the  downfall  of  Troy, 
Tro.  39;    Agam.  +626. 

Sipylus,  a  mountain  in  Phrygia,  on 
whose  top  Niobe,  changed  to  stone, 
was  said  to  sit  and  weep  eternally 
over  her  lost  children,  //.  Oct.  185; 
Agam.  394;  U.  Fur.  391.  See 
Niobe. 

Sirens,  mythical  maidens  dwelling  on 
an  island  of  the  ocean,  wh 
beautiful  singing  lured  sailors  to 
destruction,  //.  Oet.  190;  they 
were  passed  in  safety  by  the  Argo- 
nauts because  Orpheus  played 
sweeter  music,  Med.  355. 

Sisyphus,  the  son  of  Aeolus,  was  said 
to  have-  been  the  founder  of  ancient 
Corinth,  and  father  of  Creon,  Med. 
512,  776;  Ocd.  282;  for  his  dis- 
obedience to  the  gods  he  was  set  to 


53° 


Piii     Tragedies    of    Seneca 


rolling  a  huge  stone  up  a  hill  in 
hades,  which  ever  rolled  back  again 
and  so  renewed  his  toil,  Med.  71"; 
Hip.  1  :.?o;  Agam.  r6;  //.  Jur. 
751;  Thy.  6;  Oct.  6aa;  //.  ( )<•/. 
942,  ioioj  the  stone  followed  the 
magical  music  of  Orpheus,  ibid. 
ro8i. 

Sminiihts,  an  epithet  of  Phoebus 
Apollo,  Again.  176. 

Sol,  the  bud  personified  as  the  sun- 
god,  used  with  the  same  force  as 
Phoebus,  //.  Fur.  37,  61;  Med.  29, 
210;  77/y.  637,  776,  789,  822,  990, 
1035;   Hip.  124,  1 091;  II.  Oet.  150. 

SOMNUS,  the  god  of  sleep,  brother  of 
death,  //.  Fur.  1069;  called  the  son 
of  Astraea,  ibid.  1068;  character- 
istics, symbols,  and  powers  de- 
scribed at  length,  ibid.  *io65. 

Sphinx,  a  fabulous  monster  with  the 
face  of  a  woman,  the  breast,  feet, 
and  tail  of  a  lion,  and  the  wings  of 
a  bird;  sent  to  harass  Thebes,  slay- 
ing everyone  who  passed  her  and 
who  could  not  answer  her  riddle, 
Oed.  246;  Phoen.  120,  131;  Oedi- 
pus' encounter  with  her  described, 
Oed.  *92;  slain  by  Oedipus,  ibid. 
641;  seen  by  Creon  among  the 
shapes  in  hades,  called  by  him  the 
"Ogygian  (i.  e.,  Boeotian  or 
Theban)  pest,"  ibid.  589;  used  as 
type  of  winged  speed,  Phoen.  422. 

STROPHIUS  {Agamemnon),  see  Py- 
LADES. 

Stympiialian  Birds,  monstrous  crea- 
tures haunting  a  pool  near  the  town 
of  Stymphalus  in  Arcadia;  they 
were  killed  by  Hercules  as  his  sixth 
labor,  H.  Fur.  244;  Med.  783; 
Agam.  850;  H.  Oet.  1237,  1890; 
used  as  type  of  winged  speed, 
Phoen.  422. 

Styx,  a  river  of  hades,  H.  Fur.  780; 
Oed.  162;  over  which  spirits  must 
pass  into  the  world  of  the  dead,  the 
river  of  death;  in  Seneca,  this  con- 
ception is  not  confined  to  the  Styx, 
but  is  used  of  that  river  in  common 
with  the  Acheron,  H.  Fur.  *"jiy, 
Hip.      1 180;       Agam.     608;       the 


Lethe,   Hip.    [48;    //.  Oet.    ti6i, 

155:';  and  I  lie  I'lllegethon,  Agam. 
*75o;  it  is  upon  the  Styx  alone, 
however,  thai  the  gods  swear  their 
inviolable  oaths,  //.  bur.  713; 
Hip.  cM  \\  Thy.  666;  //.  ( >et.  10(1(1; 
from  meaning  the  river  of  death,  it 
comes  to  mean  death  itself,  //.  bur. 
I,s5>  55s;   in  i's  most  frequent  use, 

the  river  signifies  I  he  lower  world  in 

general,   the   land   of  the  dead;     so 

are       found       Stygian       "shades," 

"homes,"      "caverns,"       "ports," 

"gales,"      "borders,"       "torches," 

"tires.''  etc.,   //.  Fw.  54,  90,  104, 

1 131;  Tro.  430;  Med.  632, 804;  Hip. 

477.  625>  928>  "51;   Oed.  396,  401, 

621;    Agam.  493;    Thy.   1007;    H. 

Oet.    77,    560,    1014,    1 145,    1 198, 

1203,  1711,  1766,  1870,  1919,  1983; 

Oct.    24,    79,    135,    162,    263,    594; 

Cerberus  is  the  "Stygian  dog"  and 

"Stygian     guardian,"     Agam.     13; 

Hip.   223;    H.  Oet.  79,   1245;    tne 

"dee]j  embrace  of  Styx"  is  the  pit 

which      Andromache     prays     may 

open  up  beneath  Hector's  tomb  and 

hide  Astyanax,   Tro.   520;  the  boat 

on  which  Agrippina  was  to  meet  her 

death   is   called   the   Stygian   boat, 

Oct.  127. 

Symplegades   (the  "dashers"),   two 

rocks  or  crags  at  the  entrance  of  the 

Euxine    Sea    which,    according    to 

tradition,     clashed     together  when 

any  object   passed   between  them; 

escaped    by   the   Argo,   Med.    341, 

456,  610;    Hercules   prays    that  he 

may  be  crushed  to  death  between 

these  rocks,  H.  Fur.  1210;   used  as 

a  type  of  a  hard  crag,  H.  Oet.  1273, 

1380. 

T 
Taenarus  (also  written  Taenara), 
a  promontory  on  the  southernmost 
point  of  the  Peloponnesus,  near 
which  was  a  cave,  said  to  be  the 
entrance  to  the  lower  world,  Tro. 
402;  H.  Fur.  587,  *663,  813;  Oed. 
171;  Hip.  1203;  H.  Oet.  1 06 1, 
1771. 
Tagus,  a  river  of  Spain,  celebrated 
for  its  golden  sands,  H.  Fur.  1325; 
Thy.  354;   H.  Oet.  626. 


Mythological    Inih  \ 


S31 


TANTALUS  (Thyestes)  (i),  a  king  of 
Lydia,  son  of  Jupiter  and  the 
nymph,  Pluto,  father  of  Pelops  and 
of  Niobe,  //.  Fur.  t,qo;  Oea.  613; 
Med.  954;  A  gam.  ^j:;  //.  Oet. 
198;  because  of  his  outrageous  sin 
against  the  gods  (see  P  lops)  he 
was  doomed  to  suffer  in  hades 
endless  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst, 
with  fruit  and  water  almost  within 
reach  of  his  lips,  H.  Fur.  *75-\ 
Hip.  1^2;  A  gam.  19;  Thy.  ion; 
Oct.  631;  his  sin  described  and 
punishment  portrayed  in  detail, 
Thy.  *i37;  his  ghost  appears, 
ribes  his  sufferings  in  hades, 
and  is  incited  by  a  fury  to  urge  on 
his  bouse  to  greater  crimes,  ibid.  1; 
Deianira  prays  that  she  may  1 
his  punishment  upon  herself,  H. 
Oet.  943;  Medea  prays  that  he  may 
come  and  drink  of  the  waters  of 
Corinth,  and  that  Creon  may  take 
his  place  in  hades,  Med.  745;  used 
as  type  of  outrageous  sinner,  Thy. 
242;  he  forgets  his  thirst  in  his 
grief  for  the  disasters  whit  h  threaten 
his  house,  Agam.  769;  he  forgets 
his  thirst  under  the  influence  of 
Orpheus'  music,  H.  Oet.  1075. 

TANTALUS  {Thyestes)  (2),  one  of 
the  sons  of  Thyestes,  great-grand- 

d  of  Tantalus  (1),  encourages  his 
father  to  hope  for  reconciliation  with 
his  brother,  Atreus,  Thy.  \:\:  slain 
by  Atreus,  ibid.  7 

Tartarus  (also  written  Tartara),  in 
its  strict  sense,  that  portion  of  the 
lower  world  devoted  to  the  punish- 
ment <>f  the  wicked,  hell,  the  abode 
of    the    furies    and    of     those   like 

l  antalus,  Ixion,  etc.,  who  are  suf- 
fering torments,    //.  Fur.  86;    < 

t6i;  Med.  742;  Oct.  905;  in  the 
great    majority  of    cases,  however, 

I  artarus    is    the    lower    world    in 

general,  whence  ghosts  come  ba<  k  to 

■::.  2;    Oct.  593;    to  whieh 

«  kpheus  went  in  sean  h  of  his  wife, 

Med.  633;   //.  Oet.  1064;   to  which 

Hercules    went     to    bring    thence 

rberus,  H.  Oet.  461;    Hip.  844; 

where  was  the  palace  of  Dis,  ibid. 


951;    Agam.  7^r;    where  Cerberus 
inds guard,  //.  bur.  649;   //.  Oet. 

1770;  where  are  the  '•  Tartarian 
pools,"  Hip.  1170;  and  so  in  gen- 
eral, //.  Fur.  436,  710,  889,  1235; 
Oetl.  869;  l'lwf.].  1  1 1  C45;  Thy. 
1013,  1071;  //.  Oet.  1136,  1 1 19, 
151  1,  1765,  1779;    Oct.  233,  64  1. 

Taurus,  the  second  zodiacal  constel- 
lation, the  Bull,  which  poets  feign 

was  the  bull  in  the  form  of  whi<  h 
Jupiter  bore  Europa  from  Phoe- 
nicia to  Crete,  //.  Fur.  9,  952; 
Thy.  852. 
Telki'ih  s,  a  king  of  Mysia,  wounded 
by  Achilles'  spear,  and  afterward 
cured  by  application  of  the  rust 
scraped  from  its  point,  'Fro.  215. 

Teretjs,    a    king   of   Thrace,    whose 
barbarous  feast  upon  bis  own  son, 
Itys,  is  called  the  "Thracian  crin 
Thy.    56.      See     Philomela    and 

I'!      II 

Tethys,  the  goddess  of  the  sea,  u~<<\ 
frequently  for  the  sea  itself,  in  which 
the  sun  set-,  and  from  which  it  rises, 
Hip.  571,  [l6i;  II .  Fur.  887,  1328; 
Tro.  S79;  Med.  378;  H.  Oct.  1252, 
1902. 

Thebes,  the  capital  city  of  Boeotia, 
founded  by  Cadmus,  II.  Fur.  268; 
its  walls  built  by  the  magic  of 
Amphion's  lyre,  ibid.  202;  famed 
for  frequent  visits  of  the  gods, 
pecially  of  Jove,  ibid.  265; 
plague-smitten  under  <  >edipus,  who 

laments     the     disaster,     Oed. 

pla  1  ribed  at  length  by  the 

chorus,  ibid.  *  1  25;  a  curse  fell  upon 
Thebes  from  the  time  of  Cadmus, 
ibid.  *709;  conquered  by  Lycus, 
the  usurper,  who  slew  Kini^  Creon, 
the  father  of  Megara,  //.  Fur.  270; 
scene  of  the  Hercules  Furens, 
Oedipus,  and  Phoenissae  (in  ]>art). 

THESE1  S  [Hercules  Furens,  Hip- 
polytus),   king    of    Ath  of 

^egeus  and  Aethra,  daughter  of 
Pittheus,  king  of  Troezene;  accord- 
ing to  tradition  also  reputed  the  SOD 
of  Neptune,  who  had  granted  him 
three  wishes,  Hip. 
the  last  of  whil  h  he  used  against  his 


The    Tragedies    o  v    Seneca 


^•>n,  Hippolytus,  ibid.  045;  went  to 
Crete    to    slay    the    Minotaur;     his 

beautiful  appearance  desi  ribed,  ibid. 

*<>.if»,  10(17;  finds  his  way  out  of  the 
Labyrinth  by  aid  of  a  thread  given 
him  by  Ariadne,  ibid.  050,662;  fled 
with  Ariadne,  hut  deserted  her  on 

Naxos,  Oed.  488;    was   the  cause  of 

his  father's  death,  since  he  did  not 

display  the  white  sail  on  his  return 
to  Athens  from  slaying  the  Mino- 
taur, Hip.  11(15;  married  Antiope, 
the  Amazon,  who  became  the 
mother  of  Hippolytus,  but  after- 
ward slew  her,  ibid.  226,  927,  1 167; 
married  Phaedra,  ibid,  passim;  went 
to  hades  with  his  bosom  friend, 
Pirithoiis,  to  assist  the  latter  in 
carrying  away  Proserpina,  ibid.  91, 
627;  the  two  were  apprehended 
by  Dis  and  set  upon  an  enchanted 
rock  which  held  them  fast,  H.  Fur. 
1339;  Theseus  was  rescued  by 
Hercules,  ibid.  806;  H.  Oet.  1197, 
1768;  Hip.  843;  returns  from 
hades,  ibid.  829. 

Thespiades,  the  fifty  daughters  of 
Thespius,  loved  by  Hercules,  H. 
Oet.  369. 

THETIS,  a  sea-goddess,  daughter  of 
Nereus;  she  was  given  as  wife  to 
Peleus,  Med.  657;  Oct.  707;  and 
became  by  him  the  mother  of 
Achilles,  Tro.  346,  880;  Agam.  616; 
to  keep  her  son  from  the  Trojan 
War  she  hid  him  disguised  in  gar- 
ments of  a  girl  at  the  court  of  King 
Lycomedes,  Tro.  213;  but  this 
ruse  was  discovered  and  exposed  by 
Ulysses,  ibid.  569. 

Thule,  the  farthest  known  land,  dif- 
fering with  different  stages  of  devel- 
opment of  human  knowledge;  the 
time  will  come  when  all  lands  will 
be  known,  and  there  will  be  no 
ultima  Thule,  Med.  379. 

THYESTES  (Thyestes,  Agamemnon), 
see  Atreus. 

Tiphys,  the  pilot  of  the  Argo,  Med. 
3,  318;  picture  of  his  management 
of  the  vessel,  ibid.  *3i8;  grew  pale 
at  sight  of  the  Symplegades,  ibid. 
346;   his  tragic  death,  *6i7. 


TIRESIAS  (Oedipus),  a  celebrated 
prophet  of  Thebes,  father  of  Manto; 
blind  and  old,  he  is  led  by  his 
daughter  into  the  presence  of 
Oedipus,  where  he  attempts  by 
various  processes  to  discover  the 
murderer  of  I.aius,  Ocd.  288;  prac- 
tices pyromantia,  cupuonuuitia,  hic- 
roscopta,  and  later  necrotnontia,  ibid. 
#307;  discovers  by  the  last  process 
that  Oedipus  himself  slew  Lai'us, 
ibid.  *53o. 

TisipnoNE,  one  of  the  furies  who 
seems  to  appear  to  the  distracted 
Deianira,  H.  Oet.  1012;  seems  to 
appear  to  the  mad  Hercules,  guard- 
ing the  door  of  hell  since  Cerberus 
has  been  removed,  H.  Fur.  984. 
See  Furies. 

Titans,  a  name  given  to  the  sons 
of  Coelus  and  Terra,  one  of 
whom  was  Hyperion,  identified  by 
Homer  with  the  sun.  The  Titans 
warred  against  one  of  their  own 
number,  Saturn,  who  had  succeeded 
to  the  throne  of  his  father.  The 
word  is,  however,  frequently  con- 
founded with  the  Giants,  who 
banded  together  to  dethrone  Jove; 
they  piled  up  mountains  in  their 
attempt  to  scale  heaven,  but  were 
overthrown  by  Jove's  thunderbolt 
and  buried  under  Sicily,  H.  Fur. 
79,  967;  Med.  410;  Agam.  '340; 
H.  Oet.  144,  1 21 2,  1309;  in  all 
other  passages  in  Seneca,  Titan 
means  the  sun,  more  or  less  com- 
pletely personified  as  the  sun-god, 
lord  and  ruler  of  the  day,  H.  Fur. 

124,  133,  443.  Io6o>  1333!  Med- 
5;  Tro.  170;  Hip.  678,  779;  Oed. 
1,  40;  Thy.  120,  785,  1095;  Agam. 
460,  908;  H.  Oet.  42,  291,  423,  488, 
723,  781,  891,  968,  mi,  1131,  1163, 
1287,  1512,  1518,  1566,  1575,  1760; 
Oct.  2.     See  Giants,  Phoebus. 

Tityus,  a  giant,  son  of  Earth,  who 
offered  violence  to  Latona;  for 
this  he  was  punished  in  hades, 
where  a  vulture  kept  feeding  upon 
his  ever-renewed  vitals,  H.  Fur. 
756,  977;  H.  Oet.  947;  Hip.  1233; 
Agam.  17;    Thy.  9,  806;    Oct.  622; 


Mythological    Index 


533 


relieved  for  a  while  by  the  music  of 

Orpheus,  H.  Oet.  1070. 
Tmolus,    a    mountain    in    Lydia,    a 

favorite   haunt  of  Bacchus,  Phoen. 

602. 
Toxi  us,  a  vouth  slain  by  Hercules, 

If.  Oet.  214. 
TRiPTOLEMTJS,    son    of    the    king    of 

Eleusis,  through  whom  Ceres  gave 

the  arts  of  agriculture  to  mankind, 

Hip.  838. 
Tritons,  sea-deities;    they  sung  the 

marriage  chorus  of  Achilles,   Tro. 

202. 
Trivia,  an  epithet  of  Diana,  because 

she  presided  over  places  where  three 

roads  meet,  Agam.  382;    Oct.  978; 

applied  by  association  to  Luna,  the 

heavenly    manifestation   of    Diana, 

Med.  *y8j. 
Troilus,  a  son  of    Priam,  slain  by 

Achilles,  Agam.  748. 

Troy,  an  ancient  city  of  Troas,  whose 
walls  were  built  by  Neptune  and 
Apollo,  Tro.  7;  it  was  first  destroyed 
under  the  reign  of  Laomedon, 
father  of  Priam,  by  Hercules  and 
I  elamon,  because  of  the  perfidy 
of  Laomedon,  Agam.  614,  862;  Tro. 
1  $5,  *7io;  its  second  fall  was  after 
ten  years  of  siege  by  the  Greeks, 
Tro.  74;  her  festal  day  turned  out 
to  be  a  day  of  doom,  Agam.  791;  it 
is  not  the  Greek  heroes  who  de- 
stroyed Troy,  but  the  lying  traitor, 
Sinon,  who  deceived  the  Trojans 
about  the  wooden  horse,  ibid.  615; 
mourning  for  the  fall  of  Troy,  ibid. 
589;  distant  view  of  the  smoulder- 
ing ruins  as  seen  by  the  Greek  ves- 
sels from  the  sea  on  their  homeward 
voyage,  ibid.  456. 

Tullia,  a  daughter  of  Servius  Tullius, 

king  of  Rome;   her  impious  sin  and 

its  punishment,  Oct.  304. 
TyNDARTJDAE,  Castor  and  Pollux,  the 
sons  of  Jupiter  and  I.eda,  but  falsely 
named  from  Tvndarus,  the  mortal 
husband  of  Led  a;  their  stars  give 
help  to  sailors,  II.  Fur.  14,  552; 
Oct.  208.    See  Castor,  Leda. 

Typhoeus,  one  of    the  Giants  who 


fought  against  Jove,  Med.  773; 
Thy.  809. 

Typhon,  a  giant,  apparently  the  same 
as  Typhoeus,  H.  Oet.  1733;  Oct.  238. 

Tyrrhene,  an  epithet  applied  to  the 
band  of  Phoenician  pirates  who 
attempted  to  kidnap  Bacchus,  Oed. 
249;  to  the  dolphin,  in  referent  e  to 

the  story  of  how  these  pirates  were 
changed  into  dolphins  by  the  power 
of  Bacchus,  Agam.  451;  to  the 
Tuscan  Sea,  because  the  Etrurians 
were  supposed  to  have  been  of 
Tyrrhenian  stock,  Oct.  311;  and  to 
Inarimc,  an  island,  possibly  to  be 
identified  with  Ischia,  lying  in  tin- 
Tyrrhene  sea  off  the  coast  of  Cam- 
pania, H.  Oet.  1 156. 

U 

ULYSSES  (Troades),  Tro.  passim. 
V 

VENUS,  a  goddess,  sprung  from  the 
foam  of  the  sea,  Hip.  274;  she  is 
the  goddess  of  love,  ibid.  417,  576, 

910;  Oct.  545;  the  mother  of 
Cupid,  the  god  of  love,  I  lip.  275; 
II.  Oet.  543;  Oct.  697;  called 
Erycina,  because  Mt.  Eryx  in 
Sicily  was  sacred  to  her,  Hip.  199; 
she  persecuted  the  stock  of  Phoebus 
(i.e.,  Pasiphae  and  Phaedra),  be- 
cause that  god  had  published  her  am- 
ours with  Mar-,  {bid.  124;  cursed 
Messalina  with  insatiate  lu>t,  Oct. 
258;  the  effect  upon  the  world  whi<  h 
the  cessation  of  the  power  of  Venus 
would  produce,  Hip.  **^6g;  she 
has  no  existence,  but  is  feigned  by 
men  as  a  goddess  in  order  to  excuse 
their  own  lusts,  ibid.  203;  used 
frequently  by  metonymy  for  the 
passion  of  love,  either  lawful  or 
unlawful,  ibid.  211,  237,  339,  417, 
462,  721,  913;  Agam.  183,  275,  927; 
Oct.  191,  433. 

Virginia,  the  daughter  of  Virginius, 
slain  by  her  father  to  save  her  from 
the   lust   of   Appius   Claudius   the 
emvir,  Oct.  296. 

Virgo,  the  zodiacal  constellation  of 

the  Virgin,  Astraea,  the  daughter  of 


534 


T  n  k    Tragedies    of    Seneca 


Jove  and  Themis,  who  left  the 
•  art h  last  <>f  all  the  gods  on  account 
of  man's  sin,  Thy.  S57. 

Vulcan,  the  god  of  fire;  forges  the 
thunderbolts   of  Jove,    Hip.    190; 

is  pierced  by  Cupid's  dans,  ibid. 
193;    is  called  the  father  of  Cupid 

and  husband  of  Venus,  Oct.  560. 
Z 

/.ins,  a  winged  sun  of  Boreas,  who, 
together  with  liis  brother  Calais,  was 
a  member  of  the  Argonautic  expedi- 
tion; they  were  slain  by  Hercules, 
Med.  634;  they  had  previously 
driven  away  the  harpies  from  Phin- 
eus,  king  of  Thrace,  ibid.  782. 


Zkthus,  a  Theban  prince,  son  of 
Amiope,  the  niece  of  Lycus,  king 
of  Thebes;  he  and  his  twin  brother, 
Amphion,  were  e.\])osed  in  infancy 
on  Ml.  Cithiaeron,  but  were  saved 
and  brought  up  by  shepherds. 
Arrived  at  manhood  they  killed 
Lycus  and  Diree,  his  wife,  on  ac- 
count of  their  cruelties  to  Antiope, 
and  together  reigned  in  Thebes. 
Reference  is  made  to  their  rustic 
life  in  //.  Fur.  916;  the  shade  of 
Zethus  comes  up  from  hades,  still 
holding  by  the  horn  the  wild  bull 
to  which  he  had  tied  Dirce,  Oed. 
610.     See  Dirce. 


Jk 


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