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The Tragedies of Euripides, Volume I. by Euripides

E >> Euripides >> The Tragedies of Euripides, Volume I.




CHOR. But see Ulysses advances with hasty step, to declare to thee, Hecuba,
some new determination.

ULYSSES, HECUBA, POLYXENA, CHORUS.

ULYSS. Lady, I imagine that you are acquainted with the decree of the army,
and the vote which has prevailed; nevertheless, I will declare it. It has
been decreed by the Greeks to offer on the lofty mound of Achilles's tomb
thy daughter Polyxena. But they order me to conduct and convey the damsel;
but the son of Achilles is appointed to be the priest, and to preside over
the rites. Do you know then what to do? Be not dragged away by violence,
nor enter into a contest of strength with me, but acknowledge superior
force and the presence of thy ills; it is wise to have proper sentiments
even in adversity.

HEC. Alas! alas! the great trial is at hand, as it seems, of lamentations
full, nor without tears; for I have not died in the state in which I ought
to have died, nor hath Jove destroyed me, but preserves me, that I wretched
may behold other misfortunes greater than [past] misfortunes. But if it be
allowed slaves to put questions to the free, not offensive nor grating to
the feelings, it will be your part to be questioned, and ours who are
asking to attend.

ULYSS. You have permission, ask freely, I grudge not the time.

HEC. Dost thou remember when thou camest a spy on Troy, disfigured by a
vile dress, and from thine eyes drops caused by the fear of death bedewed
thy beard?

ULYSS. I remember well; for it made no slight impression on my heart.

HEC. But Helen knew thee, and told me alone.

ULYSS. I remember the great danger I encountered.

HEC. And didst thou embrace my knees in thy humility?

ULYSS. So that my hand was numbered[7] through fear on thy garments.

HEC. What then didst thou say, being then my slave?

ULYSS. Many arguments that I invented to save me from death.

HEC. Did I preserve thee then, and conduct thee safe from the land?

ULYSS. Yes, so that I now behold the light of the sun.

HEC. Art thou not then convicted of baseness by this conduct, who hast
received benefits from me such as thou acknowledgest thou hast, and doest
us no good in return, but evil, as far as in thee lies? Thankless is your
race, as many of you as court honor from oratory before the populace; be ye
not known to me, who care not to injure your friends, provided you say what
is gratifying to the people. But plotting what dark design have they
determined upon a decree of death against my child? Did fate impel them to
offer human sacrifices at the tomb, where it were rather right to sacrifice
cattle? Or does Achilles, desirous of devoting in his turn to death those
that wrought his death, with a color of justice meditate her destruction?
But she has done him no ill: he should demand Helen as a sacrifice on his
tomb; for she destroyed him, and brought him to Troy. But if some captive
selected from the rest, and excelling in beauty, ought to die, this is not
ours. For the daughter of Tyndarus is most preeminent in beauty, and has
been found to be no less injurious than us. On the score of justice then I
urge this argument; but with respect to what you ought to repay at my
demand, hear: thou hast touched my hand, as thou ownest, and this aged
cheek also, falling at my knees. Thy hand and knees I in return grasp, and
re-demand the favor I granted you then, and beseech you, do not tear my
child from my arms, nor kill her; enough have died already. In her I
rejoice, and forget my misfortunes; she serves as my consolation in the
stead of many things, she is my city, my nurse, my staff, the guide of my
way. It becomes not those who have power to exercise their power in things
wherein they ought not, nor should the fortunate imagine their fortune will
last forever. For I too have had my time of prosperity, but now have I
ceased to be: one day wrenched from me all my happiness. But by thy beard
which I supplicate, reverence me, pity me; go to the Grecian army, and
remind them that it is a shameful thing to slay women whom ye have once
spared, and that too dragging them from the altar. But show mercy. But the
laws of blood among you are laid down alike for the free and the slave. But
your worth will carry with it persuasion, although your arguments be bad;
for the same words from those of little character, have not the same force
as when they proceed from those of high reputation.

CHOR. There is no nature of man so obdurate, which on hearing thy groans,
and thy long plaints of misery, would not let fall the tear.

ULYSS. Hecuba, be advised, nor through passion deem him thine enemy who
gives thee good advice. I indeed am ready to preserve thy person through
the means of which I was fortunate; and I say no other. But what I declared
before all I will not deny, that, Troy being captured, we should give thy
daughter as a victim to the noblest man of the army, who demands her; for
in this many cities fail, when any man who is brave and zealous receives no
more honor than those who are less valiant. But Achilles, O lady, is worthy
of honor from us, a man who died most gloriously in behalf of the Grecian
country. Were not then this disgraceful, if when living we treat him as a
friend, but after he is gone we no longer treat him so? Well! what then
will any one say, if there again should be an assembling of the army, and a
contest with the enemy: "Shall we fight or preserve our lives, seeing that
he who falls lies unhonored?" But for me at least, living from day to day,
although I have but little, that little is sufficient; but I would wish
that my monument should be beheld crowned with honor, for the gratification
is for a long time. But if thou sayest thou sufferest affliction, hear this
in return from me. There are with us aged matrons, and hoary sires, not
less wretched than thou art, and brides bereft of the noblest husbands,
whose ashes this land of Troy conceals. Endure this. But we, if we
injudiciously determine to honor the brave man, shall incur the charge of
folly. But you barbarians neither consider your friends as friends, nor do
you hold up to admiration those who have died honorably; thus shall Greece
be prosperous, but you shall experience fortune corresponding to your
counsels.

CHOR. Alas! alas! how wretched is the state of slavery, and to endure
indignities compelled by superior force! (Note [B].)

HEC. O daughter, my words respecting thy death are vanished in the air, set
forth in vain; but thou, if thou hast greater powers [of persuasion] than
thy mother, use all thy influence, uttering every note as the throat of the
nightingale, that thou mayest not be deprived of life. But fall before the
knees of Ulysses in all the eloquence of grief, and persuade him; thou hast
a pretext, for he also hath children; so that he may be inclined to pity
thy fortune.

POLYX. I see, Ulysses, that thou art hiding thy hand beneath thy robe, and
turnest thy face away, that I may not touch thy beard. Be not afraid; thou
hast avoided my suppliant Jove; for I will follow thee both on account of
fate, and even wishing to die; but if I were not willing, I should appear
base, and too fond of life. For wherefore should I live, whose father was
monarch of all the Trojans; this my dawn of life. Then was I nurtured under
fair hope, a bride for princes, having no small competition for my hand, to
whose palace and hearth I should come. But I, wretched now, was mistress
among the Trojan women, and conspicuous in the train of virgins, equal to
goddesses, death only excepted. But now I am a slave; first of all the very
name, not being familiar, persuades me to love death. Then perhaps I might
meet with masters cruel in disposition, who will buy me for silver, the
sister both of Hector and many other [heroes.] And imposing the task of
making bread in his palace, will compel me, passing the day in misery, both
to sweep the house, and stand at the loom. And some slave somewhere
purchased will defile my bed, before wooed by princes. This never shall be.
I will quit this light from mine eyes free, offering my body to Pluto. Lead
on then, Ulysses, conduct me to death; for I see neither confidence of
hope, nor of expectation, present to me that I can ever enjoy good fortune.
But do thou, my mother, in no wise hinder me by your words or by your
actions; but assent to my death before I meet with indignities unsuited to
my rank. For one who has not been accustomed to taste misfortunes bears
indeed, but grieves, to put his neck under the yoke. But he would be far
more blessed in death than in life; for to live otherwise than honorably is
a great burden.

CHOR. It is a great and distinguishing feature among men to be born of
generous parents, and the name of nobility of birth among the illustrious,
proceeds from great to greater still.

HEC. You have spoken honorably, my daughter, but in that honorable dwells
grief. But if the son of Peleus must be gratified, and you must escape
blame, Ulysses, kill not her; but leading me to the pyre of Achilles,
strike me, spare me not; I brought forth Paris, who destroyed the son of
Thetis, having pierced him with his arrows.

ULYSS. The phantom of Achilles did not demand that thou, O aged lady, but
that thy daughter here should die.

HEC. Do thou then at least slay me with my daughter, and there will be
twice the libation of blood for the earth, and the dead who makes this
request.

ULYSS. Thy daughter's death suffices; one must not be heaped on another;
would that we required not even this one.

HEC. There is a strong necessity for me to die with my daughter.

ULYSS. How so? for I am not aware of any master that I have.

HEC. As the ivy the oak, so will I clasp her.

ULYSS. Not so; if you will take the advice of your superiors in knowledge.

HEC. Never will I willingly quit my child here.

ULYSS. Nor will I leave this place without the virgin.

POLYX. Mother, be persuaded; and thou, son of Laertes, be gentle to a
parent with reason moved to anger. But thou, O wretched mother, contend not
with conquerors. Dost thou wish to fall on the earth and to wound thy aged
flesh dragged by violence, and to suffer the indignity of being torn by a
youthful arm? which things you will suffer. Do not, I pray thee, for it is
not seemly. But, my dear mother, give me thy beloved hand, and grant me to
join cheek to cheek; since never hereafter, but now for the last time shall
I behold the rays of the sun and his bright orb. Receive my last address, O
mother! O thou that bearedst me, I am going below.

HEC. And I, O daughter, shall be a slave in the light of day.

POLYX. Without the bridegroom, without the bridal song, which I ought to
have obtained.

HEC. Mournful thou, my child; but I am a wretched woman.

POLYX. There shall I lie in darkness far from thee.

HEC. Alas me, what shall I do? where end my life?

POLYX. I shall die a slave, born of a free father.

HEC. But I bereft indeed of fifty children.

POLYX. What message shall I bear to Hector, and to thy aged husband?

HEC. Tell them that I am most miserable of all women.

POLYX. O ye breasts that tenderly nursed me.

HEC. O daughter of an untimely and unhappy fate.

POLYX. Farewell, O mother, farewell Cassandra too.

HEC. Others farewell, but this is not for thy mother.

POLYX. Farewell, my brother Polydore, among the warlike Thracians.

HEC. If he lives at least: but I doubt, so unfortunate am I in every thing.

POLTX. He lives, and shall close thy dying eye.

HEC. I am dead, before my death, beneath my ills.

POLYX. Lead me, Ulysses, having covered my face with a veil, since, before
I am sacrificed indeed, I am melted in heart at my mother's plaints, her
also I melt by my lamentations. O light, for yet it is allowed me to
express thy name, but I have no share in thee, except during the time that
I am going between the sword and the pyre of Achilles.

HEC. Ah me! I faint; and my limbs fail me.--O daughter, touch thy mother,
stretch forth thy hand--give it me--leave me not childless--I am lost, my
friends. Would that I might see the Spartan Helen, the sister of the twin
sons of Jove, thus, for through her bright eyes that most vile woman
destroyed the happy Troy.

CHOR. Gale, gale of the sea,[8] which waftest the swift barks bounding
through the waves through the surge of the ocean, whither wilt thou bear me
hapless? To whose mansion shall I come, a purchased slave? Or to the port
of the Doric or Phthian shore, where they report that Apidanus, the most
beautiful father of floods, enriches the plains? or wilt thou bear me
hapless urged by the maritime oar, passing a life of misery in my
prison-house, to that island[9] where both the first-born palm tree and the
laurel shot forth their hallowed branches to their beloved Latona, emblem
of the divine parturition? And with the Delian nymphs shall I celebrate in
song the golden chaplet and bow of Diana? Or, in the Athenian city, shall I
upon the saffron robe harness the steeds to the car of Minerva splendid in
her chariot, representing them in embroidery upon the splendid looms of
brilliant threads, or the race of Titans, which Jove the son of Saturn
sends to eternal rest with his flaming lightning? Alas, my children! Alas,
my ancestors, and my paternal land, which is overthrown, buried in smoke,
captured by the Argive sword! but I indeed am[10] a slave in a foreign
country, having left Asia the slave of Europe, having changed my bridal
chamber for the grave.

TALTHYBIUS, HECUBA, CHORUS.

TAL. Tell me, ye Trojan dames, where can I find Hecuba, late the queen of
Troy?

CHOR. Not far from thee, O Talthybius, she is lying stretched on the
ground, muffled in her robes.

TAL. O Jupiter, what shall I say? Shall I say that thou beholdest mortals?
or that they have to no end or purpose entertained false notions, who
suppose the existence of a race of Deities, and that fortune has the
sovereign control over men? Was not this the queen of the opulent
Phrygians? was not this the wife of the all-blest Priam? And now all her
city is overthrown by the spear, but she a captive, aged, childless, lies
on the ground defiling her ill-fated head with the dust. Alas! alas! I too
am old, but rather may death be my portion before I am involved in any such
debasing fortune; stand up, oh unhappy, raise thy side, and lift up thy
hoary head.

HEC. Let me alone: who art thou that sufferest not my body to rest? why
dost thou, whoever thou art, disturb me from my sadness?

TAL. I am here, Talthybius, the herald of the Greeks, Agamemnon having sent
me for thee, O lady.

HEC. Hast thou come then, thou dearest of men, it having been decreed by
the Greeks to slay me too upon the tomb? Thou wouldest bring dear news
indeed. Then haste we, let us speed with all our might: lead on, old man.

TAL. I am here and come to thee, O lady, that thou mayest entomb thy dead
daughter. Both the two sons of Atreus and the Grecian host send me.

HEC. Alas! what wilt thou say? Art thou not come for me as doomed to death,
but to bring this cruel message? Thou art dead, my child, torn from thy
mother; and I am childless as far as regards thee; oh! wretch that I am.
But how did ye slay her? was it with becoming reverence? Or did ye proceed
in your butchery as with an enemy, O old man? Tell me, though you will
relate no pleasing tale.

TAL. Twice, O lady, thou desirest me to indulge in tears through pity for
thy daughter; for both now while relating the mournful circumstance shall I
bedew this eye, as did I then at the tomb when she perished. The whole host
of the Grecian army was present before the tomb, at the sacrifice of thy
daughter. But the son of Achilles taking Polyxena by the hand, placed her
on the summit of the mound; but I stood near him: and there followed a
chosen band of illustrious youths in readiness to restrain with their hands
thy daughter's struggles; then the son of Achilles took a full-crowned
goblet of entire gold, and poured forth libations to his deceased father;
and makes signal to me to proclaim silence through all the Grecian host.
And I standing forth in the midst, thus spoke: "Be silent, O ye Greeks, let
all the people remain silent; silence, be still:" and I made the people
perfectly still. But he said, "O son of Peleus, O my father, accept these
libations which have the power of soothing, and which speed the dead on
their way; and come, that thou mayest drink the pure purple blood of this
virgin, which both the army and myself offer unto thee; but be propitious
to us, and grant us to weigh anchor, and to loose the cables of our ships,
and to return each to his country, having met with a prosperous return from
Troy." Thus much he said, and all the army joined in the prayer. Then
taking by the hilt his sword decked with gold, he drew it from its
scabbard, and made signs to the chosen youths of the Greeks to hold the
virgin. But she, when she perceived it,[11] uttered this speech: "O
Argives, ye that destroyed my city, I die willingly; let none touch my
body; for I will offer my neck to the sword with a good heart. But, by the
Gods, let me go free while ye kill me, that I may die free, for to be
classed as a slave among the dead, when a queen, is what I am ashamed of."
But the people murmured assent, and king Agamemnon ordered the young men to
quit the virgin; [but they, soon as they heard the last words of him who
had the seat of chief authority among them, let go their hold,] and she, on
hearing this speech of her lords, took her robe, and rent it, beginning
from the top of her shoulder down to her waist: and showed her breasts and
bosom beauteous, as a statue's, and bending her knee on the ground, spoke
words the most piteous ever heard, "Lo! strike, if this bosom thou
desirest, O youth; or wouldest thou rather under the neck, here is this
throat prepared." But he at once resolved and unresolved through pity of
the virgin, cuts with the sword the passage of her breath; and fountains of
blood burst forth. But she, e'en in death, showed much care to fall
decently, and to veil from the eyes of men what ought to be concealed. But
after that she breathed forth her spirit under the fatal blow, not one of
the Greeks exercised the same offices; but some scattered leaves from their
hands on the dead; some heap the funeral pile, bringing whole trunks of
pines: but he that would not bring, heard rebukes of this sort from him
that was thus employed: "Standest thou idle, thou man of most mean spirit?
Hast in thy hand no robe, no ornament for the maiden? Hast thou naught to
give to her so exceeding brave in heart and most noble in soul?" These
things I tell thee of the death of thy daughter, but I behold thee at once
the most happy, at once the most unhappy of all women in thine offspring.

CHOR. Dreadful calamities have risen fierce against the house of Priam;
such the hard fate of the Gods.

HEC. O daughter! which of my ills I shall first attend to, amidst such a
multitude, I know not: for if I touch on any, another does not suffer me;
and thence again some fresh grief draws me aside, succeeding miseries upon
miseries. And now I can not obliterate from my mind thy sufferings, so as
not to bewail them: but excess of grief hast thou taken away, having been
reported to me as noble. Is it then no paradox, if land indeed naturally
bad, when blest with a favorable season from heaven, bears well the ear;
but good land, robbed of the advantages it ought to have, brings forth bad
fruit: but ever among men, the bad by nature is nothing else but bad; the
good always good, nor under misfortune does he degenerate from his nature,
but is the same good man? Is it, that the parents cause this difference, or
the education? The being brought up nobly hath indeed in it the knowledge
and principles of goodness; but if one is acquainted well with this, he
knows what is vicious, having already learned it by the rule of virtue. And
this indeed has my mind been ejaculating in vain. But do thou go, and
signify these things to the Greeks, that no one be suffered to touch my
daughter, but bid them keep off the multitude. In so vast an army the
rabble are riotous, and the sailors' uncontrolled insolence is fiercer than
fire; and he is evil, who does not evil. But do thou, my old attendant,
taking an urn, fill it with sea water, and bring it hither, that I may wash
my girl in her last bath, the bride no bride now, and the virgin no longer
a virgin, wash her, and lay her out; according to her merits--whence can I?
This I can not; but as I can, I will, for what can I do! And collecting
ornaments from among the captured women, who dwell beside me in these
tents, if any one, unobserved by our new lords, has by her any stolen
memorial of her home. O state of my house, O mansions once happy! O Priam,
of vast wealth possessed, and supremely blest in thine offspring, and I
too, this aged woman, the mother of such children! How have we come to
nothing, bereft of our former grandeur! And yet still forsooth we are
elated, one of us in his gorgeous palaces; another, when honored among his
citizens. These are nothing. In vain the counsels of the mind, and the
tongue's boast. He is most blest, to whom from day to day no evil happens.

CHORUS.

Against me was it fated that calamity, against me was it fated that woe
should spring, when Paris first hewed the pine in Ida's forest, preparing
to cut his way over the ocean surge to the bed of Helen, the fairest that
the sun's golden beams shine upon. For toils, and fate more stern than
toils, close us round: and from the folly of one came a public calamity
fatal to the land of Simois, and woes springing from other woes: and when
the dispute was decided, which the shepherd decided between the three
daughters of the blessed Gods on Ida's top, for war, and slaughter, and the
desolation of my palaces. And many a Spartan virgin at her home on the
banks of the fair-flowing Eurotas sighs while bathed in tears: and many an
aged matron strikes her hand against her hoary head, for her children who
have perished, and tears her cheek making her nails all blood-stained with
her wounds.

FEMALE ATTENDANT, CHORUS, HECUBA.

ATT. O attendants, where, I pray, is the all-wretched Hecuba, who surpasses
the whole race of man and woman kind in calamities? no one shall wrest from
her the crown.

CHOR. But what dost thou want, O wretch, in thy words of ill omen? for thy
messages of woe never rest.

ATT. I bring this grief to Hecuba; but in calamity 'tis no easy thing for
men to speak words of good import.

CHOR. And see, she is coming out of the house, and appears in the right
time for thy words.

ATT. O all-wretched mistress, and yet still more wretched than I can
express in words, thou art undone, and no longer beholdest the light,
childless, husbandless, cityless, entirely destroyed.

HEC. Thou has said nothing new, but hast reproached me who already know it:
but why dost thou bring this corse of my Polyxena, whose sepulture was
reported to me as in a state of active progress through the labors of all
the Grecians?

ATT. She nothing knows, but, woe's me! laments Polyxena, nor does she
apprehend her new misfortunes.

HEC. O wretched me! dost bring hither the body of the frantic and inspired
Cassandra?

ATT. She whom thou mentionedst, lives; but thou dost not weep for him who
is dead; but behold this corse cast naked [on the shore,] and look if it
will appear to thee a wonder, and what thou little expectest.

HEC. Alas me! I do indeed see my son Polydore a corse, whom (_I fondly
hoped_) the man of Thrace was preserving in his palace. Now am I lost
indeed, I no longer exist. Oh my child, my child! Alas! I begin the Bacchic
strain, having lately learned my woes from my evil genius.

ATT. Thou knowest then the calamity of thy son, O most unfortunate.

HEC. I see incredible evils, still fresh, still fresh: and my immeasurable
woes follow one upon the other. No longer will a day without a tear,
without a groan, have part with me.

CHOR. Dreadful, oh! dreadful are the miseries that we endure!

HEC. O child, child of a wretched mother, by what fate art thou dead, by
what hap liest thou here? by the hand of what man?

ATT. I know not: on the wave-washed shore I found him.

HEC. Cast up from the sea, or fallen by the blood-stained spear? (Note
[C].)

ATT. The ocean's billow cast him up from the deep on the smooth sand.

HEC. Woe is me! Now understand I the dream, the vision of mine eyes; the
black-winged phantom has not flitted by me in vain, which I saw concerning
thee, my child, as being no longer in the light of day.

CHOR. But who slew him? canst thou, O skilled in dreams, declare him?

HEC. My friend, my friend, who curbs the steed in Thrace, where his aged
father placed him for concealment.

CHOR. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Was it to possess his gold that he slew
him!

HEC. Unutterable deeds, unworthy of a name, surpassing miracles,
unhallowed, insufferable! Where are the laws of hospitality? O most accurst
of men, how didst thou mar that skin, how sever with the cruel sword the
poor limbs of this boy, nor didst feel pity?

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