Two Tragedies of Seneca

T w o Tragedies of Seneca
Medea and The Daughters
of Troy
Rendered into English Verse, with an Introduction
By

Ella Isabel Harris

Boston and New York
Houghton, Mifflin and Company
the university press, cambridge
M DCCC XCIX

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SatmJEX
#

COPYRIGHT, 1 8 9 8 , BY LAMSON,

WOLFFE AND

COPYRIGHT, 1 8 9 9 , BY ELLA ISABEL
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

COMPANY

HARRIS

CONTENTS
PAGE

INTRODUCTION

vii

Sources of Senecan Influence on English Drama.
Tendencies of Senecan Influence as felt by English
Drama.
Direct Borrowings from Senecan Tragedies.
MEDEA

i

T H E DAUGHTERS OF TROY

T^fcfcfc

.

.

.

45

INTRODUCTION

I
SOURCES

OF

SENECAN

INFLUENCE ON ENGLISH

DRAMA

T H E interest of English students in the dramas
of Seneca lies in the powerful influence exerted by
them upon the evolution of the English drama,
and these translations have been undertaken in
the hope that they may be found useful to English students of English drama.
Though all the tragedies ascribed to Seneca are
not by the same hand, yet they are so far homogeneous that in considering them as a literary influence, one is not inclined to quarrel with the
classification that unites them under a single name.
For the present purpose, therefore, no time need
be spent in the discussion of their authorship or
exact date, but we may turn at once to look for
their appearance as agents in the development of
the modern, serious drama. In this relation it is
hardly possible to overestimate their determining
influence throughout Europe. Perhaps it may
have been owing to the closer racial bond between
the Romans and the French that while the Senecan influence upon the drama in France was so
overmastering and tyrannical, in England the

X

Introduction

native spirit was stronger to resist it, and the
English drama at its best remained distinctively
English, the influence exercised over it by the
Senecan tragedies being rather formative than
dominant.
Before the time of Marlowe and Shakespeare
the forces that determined the development of
the serious drama in England were practically
twofold: one native, emanating from the moralities and miracle plays ; the other classic, and found
in the tragedies long ascribed to Seneca. These
remnants of the Roman drama were known to the
English at a very early date, were valued by the
learned as the embodiment of what was best in
ancient art and thought, and were studied in the
Latin originals by pupils in the schools even
while the schools were still wholly monastic.
During the latter half of the sixteenth century,
separate plays of Seneca were translated into English by various authors, and in 1581 Thomas
Newton collected these translations into one
volume, under the title of " Seneca his Ten
Tragedies, Translated into English." After an
examination of these translations one can readily
understand why Elizabeth felt the need of an
English translation of the Latin favorite, and herself essayed to turn them into English verse. In
1702 Sir Edward Sherburne published translations of three of the plays, but the edition of 1581
still remains the only complete English translation. From the edition of 1581 I quote a part

Introduction

xi

of the translation of the beautiful lines on the
future life, Troades, Act II., Scene iv.: —
" May this be true, or doth the Fable fayne,
When corps is deade the Sprite to live as yet ?
When Death our eies with heavy hand doth strain,
And fatall day our leames of light hath shet,
And in the Tombe our ashes once be sat,
Hath not the soule likewyse his funerall,
But stil (alas) do wretches live in thrall ?
" Or els doth all at once togeather die ?
And may no part his fatal howre delay,
But with the breath the Soule from hence doth flie?
And eke the Cloudes to vanish quite awaye,
As danky shade fleeth from the poale by day ?
And may no iote escape from desteny,
When once the brand hath burned the body ?"

In Sherburne's translation of 1702 the same
lines are rendered as follows : —
" Is it a Truth ? or Fiction blinds
Our fearful Minds ?
That when to Earth we Bodies give,
Souls yet do live ?
That when the Wife hath clos'd with Cries
The Husband's Eyes,
When the last fatal Day of Light,
Hath spoiPd our Sight
And when to Dust and Ashes turn'd
Our Bones are urri'd ;
Souls stand yet in nead at all
Of Funeral,
But that a longer Life with Pain
They still retain ?
Or dye we quite ? Nor ought we have
Survives the Grave ?
When like to Smoake immixed with skies,
The Spirit flies,
And Funeral Tapers are apply'd
To th' naked Side,
Whatere Sol rising does disclose
Or setting shows," etc.

xii

Introduction

It is also interesting to compare Sherburne's
version with the earlier one in the famous passage
which closes the chorus at the end of the second
act of the Medea; Newton's edition gives the
lines as follows : —
" Now seas controulde doe suffer passage free,
The Argo proude erected by the hand
Of Pallas first, doth not complayne that shee,
Conveyde hath back, the kynges unto theyr land.
Eche whirry boate now scuddes about the deepe
All stynts and warres are taken cleane away,
The Cities frame new walles themselves to keepe,
The open worlde lettes nought rest where it lay;
The Hoyes of Ind Arexis lukewarme leake,
The Persians stout in Rhene and Albis streame
Doth bath their Barkes, time shall in fine outbreake
When Ocean wave shall open every Realme,
The Wandering World at Will shall open lye,
And Typhis will some newe founde Land survay
Some travelers shall the Countreys farre escrye,
Beyonde small Thule, knowen furthest at this day."

As given by Sherburne these lines are : —
" The passive Main
Now yields, and does all Laws sustain,
Nor the f am'd Argo, by the hand
Of Pallas built, by Heroes mann'd,
Does now alone complain she 's forc'd
To Sea ; each petty'Boat's now cours'd
About the Deep ; no Boundure stands,
New Walls by Towns in foreign Lands
Are rais'd; the pervious World in 'ts old
Place, leaves nothing. Indians the cold
Araxis drink, Albis, and Rhine the Persians.
Th' Age shall come, in fine
Of many years, wherein the Main
M' unloose the universal Chain;
And mighty Tracts of Land be shown,
To Search of Elder Days unknown,
New Worlds by some new Typhys found,
Nor Thule be Earth's farthest Bound.,,

Introduction

xiii

That the influence of Seneca's plays upon the
English stage came very directly may be seen from
the facts known concerning their long popularity,
and the consideration in which they were held as
literature, whether in the original or in translation.
But their influence was exerted not only by direct
means ; the revival of learning in Europe brought
with it a general revival of the Latin influence,
and England in borrowing from Italy and France
borrowed indirectly from Rome. Among the
English translations made in the time of Elizabeth from French and Italian authors, we find
the names of dramas modelled closely after Seneca,
and intended in their English dress for presentation on the English stage; thus indirectly also
was Senecan style and thought perpetuated in the
English drama.
II
TENDENCIES OF SENECAN INFLUENCE AS FELT BY
ENGLISH DRAMA

I T would hardly be possible to find a stronger
contrast than that between these Senecan tragedies
and the early English drama as it existed in
moralities and miracle plays before the classic
influence made itself felt. With perhaps the
single exception of " T h e Sacrifice of Isaac,"
which in its touching simplicity is truly dramatic,
the moralities and miracle plays are little more
than vivid narrative in which events of equal

xiv

Introduction

magnitude follow one another in epic profusion;
the classic unities of time and place are unknown,
and, so far as unity of action is observed, it is
epic unity rather than dramatic. The characters
are little more than puppets that pass across the
stage, moved by no single inward spring of action,
but determined in their movements by outward
forces or temporary emotions.
In contradistinction to this epic profusion of
inchoate external action, we find the authors of
the Senecan tragedies choosing for their material
only the closing portion of the myth which is
the basis of their drama, and centring the little
action they admit around the crisis of a soul's
life, the real subject of their drama being some
spiritual conflict. This introspectiveness, this
interest in spiritual problems and soul processes,
we find in the English drama only after it has
come under the Senecan influence, and it is found
in its most exaggerated form in those dramas
which are most closely modelled after the Senecan pattern. While the first effect of this influence was to lessen the dramatic interest, it is only
as the interest in the spiritual life is added to the
wealth of external action that the English drama
finds any true principle of dramatic unity. How
far the stirrings of the Reformation aided in the
development of this interest in soul problems is a
question that the student of dramatic literature
cannot ignore, but which is outside the present

inquiry.

Introduction

xv

T h e consciousness of the importance to dramatic art of an inner spiritual theme as a central
formative principle led to the nicer differentiation
of character, — to the evolution of true dramatic
personages from the puppets of the earlier drama,
through a deeper inquiry into the inward springs
of action.
T h e centralizing of the visible presentation
around a spiritual theme brought about several
secondary changes in English drama. T h e narrowing of the field of action necessitated the
description of past and passing actions, which,
though not admitted on the stage, were necessary
to the understanding of the drama ; this led to
the introduction of the stock character of messenger and of the long descriptive monologues so
familiar in the classic drama. The widening of
the interest in the spiritual conflict necessitated
the objectifying of that conflict, and led to the
introduction of the stock character of confidant,
also well known to the Greek and Roman drama,
and to the further introduction of long and passionate soliloquy.
This influence exercised by the Senecan tragedies on the material of the English drama had its
counterpart in an influence on the outward form,—
an influence no less dominant and abiding. , T h e
tragedies of Seneca are divided, without regard
to their true organic structure, into five acts;
these acts are separated by choruses, that bear
much the same relation to the acts they separate

xvi

Introduction

as does the orchestral interlude of to-day— that is,
no real relation; such hard-and-fast division into
five parts by choruses unconnected with the action
is unknown to the Greek drama. The acts are
again divided into scenes, this sub-division being
dependent on the exits and entrances of the dramatis person*, every exit and entrance necessitating a new scene.
T h e early imitators of Seneca copied their model
closely in the arrangement of acts and scenes, and
with them, as with Seneca, chorus and act division
are wholly unconnected with the action of the
drama ; " Gorboduc," " Tancred and Gismunda,"
and " The Misfortunes of Arthur," are the earliest
and most faithful English copies of the Latin
model. In the Shakespearian drama the adherence to this classic form is less rigid, and the playwright adds or omits the choruses at will: in
" Henry Fifth," the chorus not only separates the
acts, as in Seneca, but also speaks the prologue;
in " Pericles," where Gower speaks the prologue
and act interludes, there is also added a lyrical
monologue by the same speaker at the opening
of the fourth scene of Act I V . ; while in " The
Winter's Tale " the use of a chorus has dwindled
to a single monologue spoken by Time at the
opening of Act IV.
In the later development of the five-act division the chorus falls away, and the act division
becomes not formal but organic, and coincides with
the structural divisions of introduction, rising

Introduction

xvii

action, climax, falling action, and catastrophe;
this has now become the rule for the form of the
modern serious drama.
Besides the centralization of the external action
around an inner spiritual theme and the fixing of
the structural form, other less fundamental results
of the Senecan influence are evident in the sixteenth
and seventeenth century English drama. The
Senecan tragedies belong to the age of the Julian
successors of Tiberius, — an age when reason had
lost its control, when changes were wrought by
intrigue, cunning, and brute force; when vicissitudes of fortune and enormities of conduct were
witnessed with the same curiosity which is excited
by a fascinating drama, and with something of the
same apathy, even when the spectator himself was
concerned in the exhibition. T h e effect of this
upon the Senecan tragedy was to expand the
limits of what the dramatic proprieties permitted
to be represented on the stage, to give in place of
dramatic action brilliant and lurid rhetoric only,
and to replace a true philosophy by a stoic fatalism.
The tragic and lurid realism of action and
description which especially differentiate Seneca
from the Greeks found its way into England by
a double stream; that is, not only directly from
his dramas, but also through the channel of contemporary Italian tragedy, a tragedy which Klein
in his cc Geschichte des Dramas " describes as a
horrible caricature of the Senecan tragedy, where

xviii

Introduction

the pity and fear of the Greeks are turned to
shuddering horror and crocodile tears. The result is seen in the riot of bloodshed and lust of
the so-called tragedy of blood. What Mr. J. A.
Symonds says of Marlowe's " Tamberlane" is
true of this entire school: " Blood flows in rivers,
shrieks, and groans, and curses mingle with heaven-defying menaces and ranting vaunts. T h e
action is one tissue of violence and horror." Even
Shakespeare reflects this influence, and in " H a m let," " Lear," and " Macbeth," we still find this
bloody and sensational tendency, though it is purified of its worst extravagances.
We have spoken of the two characters of
messenger and confidant which modern drama
owes to the nobler Senecan influence ; it is to the
less admirable influence of his sensational realism that we owe the introduction of supernatural
agencies, — of witches, ghosts, and apparitions ;
these are often little more than stage machinery : in Shakespeare, however, we find them
transmuted into powerful adjuncts to the dramatic effect; compare the ghost of Tybalt, that
appears to Juliet when she takes the sleeping potion, with that of Medea's brother, that appears
to Medea in the last act of the Senecan tragedy
of that name ; note, too, the use of the ghost in
" Macbeth," in " Julius Caesar," and in " H a m let."
T h e stoic fatalism which runs like a dark thread
through these tragedies of blood is, in the English

Introduction

xix

as in the Senecan tragedy, the natural concomitant
of all this sensational horror, and is evident in the
texture of the dramas and the character of the
personages, and in original as well as in quoted
passages.
Ill
DIRECT BORROWINGS FROM SENECAN TRAGEDIES

W E need give but little space to remarks upon
the extent to which English dramatists borrowed
directly from the Roman tragedies, for such borrowings were of far less moment in the evolution
of the modern drama than the more fundamental
imitation of form and structure already noted;
their chief interest indeed lies outside the scope
of dramatic study, and is to be found in the fact
that they serve to mark English sympathy for
certain phases of Roman thought.
T h e adornment of new tragedies by portions
borrowed from Seneca calls into use most frequently the phrases which are the expression of a
dark and hopeless philosophy. The fatalism
referred to in preceding lines as characterizing the
Elizabethan tragedies of blood had a strong hold
upon the English mind from a much earlier date.
One need not wonder that the thought which
colored so early a poem as Beowulf, and which
came to the surface in the conscious philosophy
of a later time to reenter literature in the works
of Alexander Pope, should have attracted the

Introduction

XX

attention of Englishmen of the sixteenth century
when they found it in a writer of such literary
prestige and philosophic renown as Seneca.
A careful reader of Seneca will recognize the
borrowings of English dramatists the more readily
as such borrowings follow closely not only the
thought but the language of the original.
Mr. John W . Cunliffe, in his monograph on
" T h e Influence of Seneca on English Tragedy/'
has given a careful and detailed comparison with
their originals of Senecan passages in " The Misfortunes of Arthur." In a less detailed way he
indicates the borrowings of other English authors;
on pages 25, 26 of his book we find : —
" Seneca had written in the
4

c

Agamemnon/

Per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter/

This is translated by Studley : —
'The safest path to mischiefe is by mischiefe open
still.'
Thomas Hughes has it, in c T h e Misfortunes of
Arthur/ I. 4 : —
4
The safest passage is from bad to worse.'
Marston, in c The Malcontent/ V. 2 : —
4
Black deed only through black deed safely flies.'
Shakespeare, in c Macbeth/ I I I . 2 : —
4
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.'

Introduction

xxi

Jonson, in ' Catiline/ I . 2 : —
c

T h e ills that I have done cannot be safe
But by attempting greater.'

Webster, in
4

c

T h e White Devil/ I I . 1 : —

Small mischiefs are by greater made secure/

Lastly, in Massinger's
Francisca s a y s : —

f

D u k e of M i l a n / I I . 1,

c

All my plots
Turn back upon myself, but I am in,
And must go on; and since I have put off
From the shore of innocence, guilt be now my pilot!
Revenge first wrought me; murder's his twin brother:
One deadly sin then help me cure another.' "
O n page 78 he quotes the following also from
" Richard T h i r d , " I V . 2 : —
" Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin."
T h e student will surmise that phrases of Seneca
can be traced through much of English tragedy,
and that a careful reader is likely to have little
difficulty in bringing together passages inspired
by the R o m a n tragedies.
A full comparative study of the structural
form of the Senecan and of the early English
regular drama will be found in Rudolf Fischer's
" Kunstentwicklung der Englische T r a g o d i e . "
Symonds in his " Shakespeare's Predecessors/'

xxii

Introduction

and Klein in his " Geschichte des Dramas/' also
touch on the debt of the modern drama to the
Roman tragedies.
In the translations that follow, I have endeavored without doing violence to English idioms
to give a strictly literal translation of the Latin
originals, using as my text the edition of F. Leo.
I wish to express my indebtedness to Prof. Albert
S. Cook, and to Drs. Elisabeth Woodbridge and
M . Anstice Harris, for criticism of the translation,
not only with reference to its fidelity to the original, but also with regard to its English dress.

MEDEA

DRAMATIS

PERSONAE

JASON.
CREON.
MEDEA.
NURSE.
MESSENGER.
C H O R U S OF C O R I N T H I A N
SCENE —

Corinth,

WOMEN.

MEDEA
ACT

I

SCENE I

Medea [alone']. Ye gods of marriage;
Lucina, guardian of the genial bed;
Pallas, who taught the tamer of the seas
T o steer the Argo; stormy ocean's lord;
Titan, dividing bright day to the world;
5
And thou three-formed Hecate, who dost shed
T h y conscious splendor on the hidden rites!
Ye by whom Jason plighted me his troth;
And ye Medea rather should invoke:
Chaos of night eternal; realm opposed
10
T o the celestial powers ; abandoned souls ;
Queen of the dusky realm ; Persephone
By better faith betrayed ; you I invoke,
But with no happy voice. Approach, approach,
Avenging goddesses with snaky hair,
15
Holding in blood-stained hands your sulphurous
torch!
Come now as horrible as when of yore
Ye stood beside my marriage-bed; bring death
T o the new bride, and to the royal seed,
And Creon; worse for Jason I would ask — 20
3

4

Life!

Seneca

Act I

Let him roam in fear through unknown
lands,
An exile, hated, poor, without a home;
A guest now too well known, let him, in vain,
Seek alien doors, and long for me, his wife!
And, yet a last revenge, let him beget
25
Sons like their father, daughters like their mother !
'Tis done; revenge is even now brought forth —
I have borne sons to Jason. I complain
Vainly, and cry aloud with useless words,
W h y do I not attack mine enemies ?
3°
I will strike down the torches from their hands,
The light from heaven. Does the sun see this,
T h e author of our race, and still give light ?
And, sitting in his chariot, does he still
Run through the accustomed spaces of the sky, 35
Nor turn again to seek his rising place,
And measure back the day ? Give me the reins ;
Father, let me in thy paternal car
Be borne aloft the winds, and let me curb
With glowing bridle those thy fiery steeds!
40
Burn Corinth ; let the parted seas be joined !
This still remains — for me to carry up
T h e marriage torches to the bridal room,
And, after sacrificial prayers, to slay
T h e victims on their altars. Seek, my soul— 45
If thou still livest, or if aught endures
Of ancient vigor—seek to find revenge
Through thine own bowels; throw off woman's
fears,
Intrench thyself in snowy Caucasus.

Scene II

Medea

5

All impious deeds Phasis or Pontus saw,
5°
Corinth shall see. Evils unknown and wild,
Hideous, frightful both to earth and heaven,
Disturb my soul, — wounds, and the scattered
corpse,
And murder. I remember gentle deeds,
A maid did these ; let heavier anguish come, 55
Since sterner crimes befit me now, a wife!
Gird thee with wrath, prepare thine utmost rage,
That fame of thy divorce may spread as far
As of thy marriage ! Make no long delay.
How dost thou leave thy husband ? As thou
cam'st.
,
6o
Homes crime built up, by crime must be dissolved.

SCENE
Enter

II

Chorus of Corinthian women^ singing the marriage
song of yason and Creusa.

Chorus. Be present at the royal marriage feast,
Ye gods who sway the scepter of the deep,
And ye who hold dominion in the heavens;
With the glad people come, ye smiling gods! 65
First to the scepter-bearing thunderers
T h e white-backed bull shall stoop his lofty head;
T h e snowy heifer, knowing not the yoke,
Is due to fair Lucina; and to her
Who stays the bloody hand of Mars, and gives 70
T o warring nations peace, who in her horn
Holds plenty, sacrifice a victim wild.

6

Seneca

Act I

T h o u who at lawful bridals dost preside,
Scattering darkness with thy happy hands,
Come hither with slow step, dizzy with wine, 75
Binding thy temples with a rosy crown.
T h o u star that bringest in the day and night,
Slow-rising on the lover, ardently
For thy clear shining maids and matrons long.
In comeliness the virgin bride excels
80
T h e Athenian women, and the strong-limbed
maids
Of Sparta's unwalled town, who on the top
Of high Taygetus try youthful sports ;
Or those who in the clear Aonian stream,
O r in Alpheus' sacred waters bathe.
85
T h e child of the wild thunder, he who tames
And fits the yoke to tigers, is less fair
T h a n the Ausonian prince. T h e glorious god
Who moves the tripod, Dian's brother mild;
T h e skillful boxer Pollux ; Castor, too,
90
Must yield the palm to Jason. O ye gods
W h o dwell in heaven, ever may the bride
Surpass all women, he excel all men !
Before her beauty in the women's choir
T h e beauty of the other maids grows dim ;
95
So with the sunrise pales the light of stars,
So when the moon with brightness not her
own
Fills out her crescent horns, the Pleiads fade.
H e r cheeks blush like white cloth 'neath Tyrian
dyes,
Or as the shepherd sees the light of stars
100

Scene II

Medea

7

Grow rosy with the dawn. O happy one,
Accustomed once to clasp unwillingly
A wife unloved and reckless, snatched away
From that dread Colchian marriage, take thy
bride,
The iEolian virgin—'tis her father's will.
105
Bright offspring of the thyrsus-bearing god,
The time has come to light the torch of pine;
With fingers dripping wine put out the fires,
Sound the gay music of the marriage song,
Let the crowd pass their jests ; 'tis only she
no
W h o flies her home to wed a stranger guest,
Need steal away into the silent dark.

ACT II
SCENE

I

Medea, Nurse,

Medea. Alas, the wedding chorus strikes my
ears;
Now let me die ! I could not hitherto
Believe — can hardly yet believe such wrong. n 5
And this is Jason's deed ? Of father, home,
And kingdom reft, can he desert me now,
Alone and in a foreign land ? Can he
Despise my worth who saw the flames and seas
By my art conquered ? thinks, perchance, all
crime
120
Exhausted ! Tossed by every wave of doubt,
I am distracted, seeking some revenge.
H a d he a brother's love — he has a bride;
Through her be thrust the steel! Is this enough?
If Grecian or barbarian cities know
125
Crime that this hand knows not, that crime be
done!
T h y sins return to mind exhorting thee:
The far-famed treasure of a kingdom lost;
T h y little comrade, wicked maid, destroyed,
Torn limb from limb and scattered on the sea 13°
An offering to his father; Pelias old
Killed in the boiling cauldron. I have shed
g

Scene I

Medea

9

Blood often basely, but alas ! alas !
'Twas not in wrath, unhappy love did all!
H a d Jason any choice, by foreign law
135
And foreign power constrained ? H e could have
bared
His breast to feel the sword. O bitter grief,
Speak milder, milder words. Let Jason live;
Mine as he was, if this be possible,
But, if not mine, still let him live secure,
140
T o spare me still the memory of my gift!
T h e fault is Creon's; he abuses power
T o annul our marriage, sever strongest ties,
And tear the children from their mother's breast;
Let Creon pay the penalty he owes.
145
I'll heap his home in ashes, the dark flame
Shall reach Malea's dreaded cape, where ships
Find passage only after long delay.
Nurse. Be silent, I implore thee, hide thy pain
Deep in thy bosom. H e who quietly
150
Bears grievous wounds, with patience, and a
mind
Unshaken, may find healing. Hidden wrath
Finds strength, when open hatred loses hope
Of vengeance.
Medea.
Light is grief that hides itself,
And can take counsel. Great wrongs lie not
hid.
155
I am resolved on action.
Nurse.
Foster-child,
Restrain thy fury; hardly art thou safe
Though silent.

IO

Seneca

Act II

Medea.
Fortune tramples on the meek,
But fears the brave.
Nurse.
This is no place to show
That thou hast courage.
Medea.
It can never be
160
That courage should be out of place.
Nurse.
T o thee,
In thy misfortune, hope points out no way.
Medea. The man who cannot hope despairs
of naught.
Nurse. Colchis is far away, thy husband lost;
Of all thy riches nothing now remains.
165
Medea. Medea now remains \ Here's land
and sea,
Fire and sword, god and the thunderbolt.
Nurse. T h e king is to be feared.
Medea.
I claim a king
For father.
Nurse. Hast thou then no fear of arms ?
Medea. I, who saw warriors spring from earth ?
Nurse.
Thou'lt die ! 170
Medea. I wish it.
Nurse.
Flee!
Medea.
Nay, I repent of flight.
Nurse. Thou art a mother.
Medea.
And thou seest by whom.
Nurse. Wilt thou not fly ?
Medea.
I fly, but first revenge.
Nurse. Vengeance may follow thee.
Medea.
I may, perchance,
Find means to hinder it.

Medea

Scene II

II

Nurse.
Restrain thyself
175
And cease to threaten madly; it is well
That thou adjust thyself to fortune's change.
Medea. M y riches, not my spirit, fortune
takes.
T h e hinge creaks, — who is this ? Creon himself,
Swelling with Grecian pride.
180

SCENE

II

Creon with Attendants,

Medea.

Creon. What, is Medea of the hated race
Of Colchian iEetes, not yet gone ?
Still she is plotting evil; well I know
H e r guile, and well I know her cruel hand.
Whom does she spare, or whom let rest secure ? 185
Verily I had thought to cut her off
With the swift sword, but Jason's prayers availed
T o spare her life. She may go forth unharmed
If she will set our city free from fear.
Threatening and fierce, she seeks to speak with
us;

190

Attendants, keep her off, bid her be still,
And let her learn at last, a king's commands
Must be obeyed. Go, haste, and take her hence.
Medea. What fault is punished by my banishment ?
Creon. A woman, innocent, may ask, c W h a t
fault ?'
195
Medea. If thou wilt judge, examine.

12

Seneca

Act II

Creon.
Kings command.
Just or unjust, a king must be obeyed.
Medea. An unjust kingdom never long endures.
Creon. Go hence ! Seek Colchis !
Medea.
Willingly I go ;
Let him whp brought me hither take me hence. 200
Creon. Thy words come late, my edict has
gone forth.
Medea. T h e man who judges, one side still
unheard,
Were hardly a just judge, though he judge justly.
Creon. Pelias for listening to thee died, but
speak,
I may find time to hear so good a plea.
205
Medea. How hard it is to calm a wrathful
soul,
How he who takes the scepter in proud hands
Deems his own will sufficient, I have learned;
Have learned it in my father's royal house.
For though the sport of fortune, suppliant,
210
Banished, alone, forsaken, on all sides
Distressed, my father was a noble king.
I am descended from the glorious sun.
What lands the Phasis in its winding course
Bathes, or the Euxine touches where the sea 215
Is freshened by the water from the swamps,
Or where armed maiden cohorts try their skill
Beside Thermodon, all these lands are held
Within my father's kingdom, where I dwelt
Noble and happy and with princely power.
220

Scene II

Medea

13

H e whom kings seek, sought then to wed with me.
Swift, fickle fortune cast me headlong forth,
And gave me exile. Put thy trust in thrones —
Such trust as thou mayst put in what light chance
Flings here and there at will! Kings have one
power,
225
A matchless honor time can never take:
To help the wretched, and to him who asks
T o give a safe retreat. This I have brought
From Colchis, this at least I still can claim:
I saved the flower of Grecian chivalry,
230
Achaian chiefs, t h e offspring of the g o d s ;
I t is t o m e they owe their O r p h e u s
W h o s e singing melted rocks a n d drew t h e t r e e s ;
Castor a n d Pollux are m y twofold gift;
Boreas' sons, a n d Lynceus whose sharp eye 235
Could pierce beyond the Euxine, are m y gift,
A n d all t h e A r g o n a u t s . O f one alone,
T h e chief of chiefs, I do not s p e a k ; for him
T h o u owest m e n a u g h t ; those have I saved for
thee,
T h i s one is mine. Rehearse, now, all m y crime; 240
Accuse m e ; I confess ; this is m y fault —
I saved the Argo ! Had I heard the voice
Of maiden modesty or filial love,
Greece and her leaders had regretted it,
And he, thy son-in-law, had fallen
first
245
A victim to the fire-belching bull.
Let fortune trample on me as she will,
My hand has succored princes, I am glad!
Assign the recompense for these my deeds,

H

Seneca

Act II

Condemn me if thou wilt, but tell the fault. 250
Creon, I own my guilt — guilt known to thee
"When first, a suppliant, I touched thy knees,
And asked with outstretched hands protecting
aid.
Again I ask a refuge, some poor spot
For misery to hide in ; grant a place
255
Withdrawn, a safe asylum in thy realm,
If I must leave the city.
Creon. I am no prince who rules with cruel
sway,
Or tramples on the wretched with proud foot.
Have I not shown this true by choosing him 260
T o be my son-in-law who is a man
Exiled, without resource, in fear of foes ?
One whom Acastus, king of Thessaly,
Seeks to destroy, that so he may avenge
A father weak with age, bowed down with years, 265
Whose limbs were torn asunder ? That foul
crime
His wicked sisters impiously dared
Tempted by thee; if thou wouldst say the deed
Was Jason's, he can prove his innocence;
No guiltless blood has stained him, and his
hands
270
Touched not the sword, are yet unstained by
thee.
Foul instigator of all evil deeds,
With woman's wantonness in daring aught,
And man's courageous heart — and void of
shame, "

Scene II

Medea

l

S

Go, purge our kingdom ; take thy deadly herbs, 275
Free us from fear; dwelling in other lands
Afar, invoke the gods.
Medea.
Thou bidst me go ?
Give back the ship and comrade of my flight.
Why bid me go alone ? Not so I came.
If thou fear war, both should go forth, nor choice 280
Be made between two equally at fault:
That old man fell for Jason's sake; impute
T o Jason flight, rapine, a brother slain,
And a deserted father; not all mine
The crimes to which a husband tempted m e ; 285
'Tis true I sinned, but never for myself.
Creon. Thou shouldst begone, why waste the
time with words ?
Medea. I go, but going make one last request:
Let not a mother's guilt drag down her sons.
Creon. Go, as a father I will succor them, 290
And with a father's care.
Medea.
By future hopes,
By the king's happy marriage, by the strength
Of thrones, which fickle fortune sometimes shakes,
I pray thee grant the exile some delay
That she, perchance about to die, may press 295
A last kiss on her children's lips.
Creon.
Thou seekst
Time to commit new crime.
Medea.
In so brief time
What crime were possible ?
Creon.
No time too short
For him who would do ill.

i6

Seneca

Act II

Medea.
Dost thou deny
T o misery short space for tears ?
Creon.
Deep dread zoo
Warns me against thy prayer ; yet I will grant
One day in which thou mayst prepare for flight.
Medea. Too great the favor! Of the time
allowed,
Something withdraw. I would depart in haste.
Creon. Before the coming day is ushered in 3°5
By Phoebus, leave the city or thou diest.
The bridal calls me, and I go to pay
My vows to Hymen.
SCENE

III

Chorus. H e rashly ventured who was first to
make
In his frail boat a pathway through the deep ; 310
Who saw his native land behind him fade
In distance blue; who to the raging winds
Trusted his life, his slender keel between
The paths of life and death. Our fathers dwelt
In an unspotted age, and on the shore
3r5
Where each was born he lived in quietness,
Grew old upon his father's farm content;
With little rich, he knew no other wealth
Than his own land afforded. None knew yet
The changing constellations, nor could use
320
As guides the stars that paint the ether; none
H a d learned to shun the rainy Hyades,

Scene III

Medea

17

T h e Goat, or N o r t h e r n W a i n , that follows slow
By old Bootes d r i v e n ; none had yet
T o Boreas or Z e p h y r given names.
32S
Rash T i p h y s was the first to tempt the deep
W i t h spreading canvas; for the winds to write
N e w laws ; to furl the sail; or spread it wide
W h e n sailors longed to fly before the gale,
A n d the red topsail fluttered in the breeze.
33°
T h e world so wisely severed by the seas
T h e pine of Thessaly united, bade
T h e distant waters bring us u n k n o w n fears.
T h e cursed leader paid hard penalty
W h e n the two cliffs, the gateway of the sea,
335
M o v e d as t h o u g h smitten by the thunderbolt,
A n d the imprisoned waters smote the stars.
Bold T i p h y s paled, and from his trembling hand
L e t fall the r u d d e r ; O r p h e u s ' music died,
H i s lyre u n t o u c h e d ; the A r g o lost her voice. 340
W h e n , belted by her girdle of wild dogs,
T h e maid of the Sicilian straits gives voice
F r o m all her m o u t h s , who fears not at her bark ?
W h o does not tremble at the witching song
W i t h which the Sirens calm the Ausonian sea ? 345
T h e Thracian O r p h e u s ' lyre had almost forced
T h o s e hinderers of ships to follow him !
W h a t was the journey's prize ? T h e golden fleece,
Medea, fiercer than the raging s e a , —
W o r t h y reward for those first mariners !
35°
T h e . sea forgets its former wrath ; submits
T o the new laws; and not alone the ship
Minerva builded, manned by sons of kings,

i8

Seneca

Act II

Finds rowers; other ships may sail the deep.
Old metes are moved, new city walls spring up 355
On distant soil, and nothing now remains
As it has been. The cold Araxes' stream
The Indian drinks; the Persian quaffs the Rhine ;
And the times come with the slow-rolling years
When ocean shall strike off the chains from
earth,
360
And a great world be opened. Tiphys then,
Another Tiphys, shall win other lands,
And Thule cease to be earth's utmost bound.

ACT III
SCENE

I

Medea, Nurse.

Nurse.
Stay, foster-child, why fly so swiftly
hence ?
Restrain t h y wrath ! curb t h y impetuous haste ! 365
A s a Bacchante, frantic with the g o d
A n d filled with rage divine, uncertain walks
T h e t o p of snowy Pindus or the peak
O f Nyssa, so M e d e a wildly goes
H i t h e r and t h i t h e r ; on her cheek t h e stain
370
O f bitter tears, her visage flushed, her breast
Shaken b y sobs. She cries aloud, her eyes
A r e drowned in scalding tears ; again she laughs ;
All passions surge within her s o u l ; she stays
H e r steps, she threatens, makes complaint, weeps,
groans.
375
W h e r e will she fling the burden of her soul ?
W h e r e wreak her vengeance ? where will break
this wave
O f fury ? Passion overflows ! she plans
N o easy crime, no ordinary deed.
She conquers self; I recognize old signs
3&>
Of raging ; something terrible she plans,
Some deed inhuman, devilish, and wild.
Ye gods, avert the horrors I foresee!
19

20

Seneca

Act III

Medea. Dost thou seek how to show thy hate,
poor wretch ?
Imitate love ! And must I then endure
385
Without revenge the royal marriage-torch ?
Shall this day prove unfruitful, sought and gained
Only by earnest effort ? While the earth
Hangs free within the heavens; while the vault
Of heaven sweeps round the earth with changeless change;
390
W h i l e the sands lie u n n u m b e r e d ; while the
day
Follows the sun, the night brings u p the stars;
Arcturus never wet in ocean's wave
Rolls round the p o l e ; while rivers seaward flow.
M y hate shall never cease to seek revenge.
395
Did ever fierceness of a ravening b e a s t ;
O r Scylla or Charybdis sucking down
T h e waters of the wild Ausonian
A n d the Sicilian seas ; or i E t n a fierce,
T h a t holds imprisoned great Enceladus
400
Breathing forth flame, so glow as I with threats ?
N o t the swift rivers, nor the force of flame
By storm-wind fanned, can imitate m y wrath.
I will o'erthrow and bring to naught t h e w o r l d !
Does Jason fear the king ? Thessalian war ? 405
T r u e love fears nothing.
H e was forced to
yield,
Unwillingly he gave his hand. B u t still
H e might have sought his wife for one farewell.
T h i s too he feared to do. H e might have gained
F r o m Creon some delay of banishment.
410

Scene II

Medea

21

One day is granted for my two sons' sake!
I do not make complaint of too short time,
It is enough for much; this day shall see
What none shall ever hide. I will attack
The very gods, and shake the universe!
415
Nurse. Lady, thy spirit so disturbed by ills
Restrain, and let thy storm-tossed soul find rest.
Medea. Rest I can never find until I see
All dragged with me to ruin; all shall fall
When I do ; — so to share one's woe is joy. 420
Nurse. Think what thou hast to fear if thou
persist;
No one can safely fight with princely power.

SCENE
The Nurse withdraws;

II
enter yason.

Jason. The lot is ever hard ; bitter is fate,
Equally bitter if it slay or spare;
God gives us remedies worse than our ills.
425
Would I keep faith with her I deem my wife
I must expect to die; would I shun death
I must forswear myself. Not fear of death
Has conquered honor, love has cast out fear
In that the father's death involves the sons. 43°
0 holy Justice, if thou dwell in heaven,
1 call on thee to witness that the sons
Vanquish their father! Say the mother's love
Is fierce and spurns the yoke, she still will deem
H e r children of more worth than marriage joys. 435

22

Seneca

Act III

My mind is fixed, I go to her with prayers.
She starts at sight of me, her look grows wild,
Hatred she shows and grief.
Medea,
Jason, I flee !
I flee, it is not new to change m y home,
T h e cause of banishment alone is new ;
440
I have been exiled hitherto for thee.
I go, as thou compellst m e , from t h y home,
But whither shall I go ? Shall I , perhaps,
Seek Phasis, Colchis, and m y father's realm
W h o s e soil is watered by a brother's blood? 445
W h a t land dost t h o u c o m m a n d m e seek ? what
sea ?
T h e Euxine's jaws t h r o u g h which I led that band
O f noble princes when I followed thee,
Adulterer, t h r o u g h t h e Symplegades ?
Little Iolchos ? T e m p e ? Thessaly ?
45°
W h a t e v e r way I opened u p for thee
I closed against myself. W h e r e shall I go ?
T h o u drivest into exile, b u t hast given
N o place of banishment. I will go hence.
T h e king, Creusa's father, bids m e g o ,
455
A n d I will do his bidding. H e a p on m e
M o s t dreadful punishment, it is m y d u e .
W i t h cruel penalties let royal wrath
P u r s u e t h y mistress, load m y hands with chains,
A n d in a dungeon of eternal night
460
Imprison m e — 'tis less than I d e s e r v e !
Ungrateful one, recall t h e fiery b u l l ;
T h e earth-born soldiers, w h o at m y c o m m a n d
Slew o n e a n o t h e r ; and t h e golden fleece

Scene II

Medea

23

Of Phrixus' ram, whose watchful guardian,
465
T h e sleepless dragon, at m y bidding s l e p t ;
T h e brother slain; the many, many crimes
I n one crime gathered. T h i n k how, led by me,
By me deceived, that old man's daughters dared
T o slay their aged father, dead for a y e !
470
By t h y hearth's safety, by thy children's weal,
By the slain dragon, by these blood-stained hands
I never spared from doing aught for thee,
By t h y past fears, and by the sea and sky
Witnesses of our marriage, pity m e !
475
O h a p p y o n e , give m e some r e c o m p e n s e !
O f all t h e ravished gold t h e Scythians b r o u g h t
F r o m far, as far as India's b u r n i n g plains,
W e a l t h o u r wide palace hardly could contain,
So that we h u n g o u r groves with gold, I t o o k 480
N o t h i n g . M y brother only bore I thence,
A n d him for thee I sacrificed. I left
M y country, father, brother, maiden s h a m e :
T h i s was m y marriage p o r t i o n ; give her own
T o her who goes an exile.
485
Jason.
W h e n angry Creon t h o u g h t to have
thee slain,
U r g e d by m y prayers, he gave thee banishment.
Medea.
I looked for a r e w a r d ; the gift I see
Is exile.
Jason.
W h i l e thou mayst fly, fly in haste !
T h e wrath of kings is ever hard to bear.
49°
Medea.
T h o u giv'st me such advice because
thou lov'st
Creusa, wouldst divorce a hated wife!

24

Seneca

Act III

Jason, A n d does M e d e a taunt me with my
loves ?
Medea.
M o r e — treacheries and murders.
Jason.
Canst thou charge
Such sins to me ?
Medea.
All I have ever done.
495
Jason. I t only needs that I should share the
guilt
O f these thy crimes !
Medea.
T h i n e are they, thine alone ;
H e is the criminal who reaps the fruit.
T h o u g h all should brand thy wife with infamy,
T h o u shouldst defend and call her i n n o c e n t : 500
She who has sinned for thee, toward thee is
pure.
Jason. T o me my life is an unwelcome gift
O f which I am ashamed.
Medea.
W h o is ashamed
T o owe his life to me can lay it down.
Jason.
F o r thy sons' sake control thy fiery
heart.
5°5
Medea.
I will have none of them, I cast them
off,
Abjure them ; shall Creusa to m y sons
Give brothers ?
Jason.
T o an exile's wretched sons
A mighty queen will give them.
Medea.
N e v e r come
T h a t evil day that mingles a great race
510
W i t h race unworthy, — Phoebus' glorious sons
W i t h sons of Sisyphus.

Scene II

Medea

2

5

Jason.
What, cruel one,
Wouldst thou drag both to banishment? Away!
Medea. Creon has heard my prayer.
Jason.
W h a t can I d o ?
Medea.
F o r m e ? Some crime perhaps.
Jason.
A prince's wrath 515
Is here and there.
Medea.
Medea's wrath more fierce !
Let us essay our power, the victor's prize
Be Jason.
Jason. Passion-weary, J depart;
Fear thou to trust a fate too often tried.
Medea. Fortune has ever served me faithfully. 520
Jason. Acastus comes.
Medea.
Creon's a nearer foe,
But both shall fall. Medea does not ask
That thou shouldst arm thyself against the king,
Or soil thy hands with murder of thy kin;
Fly with me innocent.
Jason.
Who will oppose
525
I f double war ensue, a n d t h e two kings
J o i n forces ?
Medea.
A d d to t h e m t h e Colchian troops
And King iEetes, Scythian hosts and Greeks,
Medea conquers them !
Jason.
I greatly fear
A scepter's power.
Medea.
Do not covet it.
53°
Jason. We must cut short our converse, lest
it breed
Suspicion.

Seneca

26

Act III

Medea.
Now from high Olympus send
Thy thunder, Jupiter; stretch forth thy hand,
Prepare thy lightning, from the riven clouds
Make the world tremble, nor with careful hand 535
Spare him or m e ; whichever of us dies
Dies guilty ; thy avenging thunderbolt
Cannot mistake the victim.
Jason.
Try to speak
More sanely; calm thyself. If aught can aid
T h y flight from Creon's house, thou needst but
ask.

540

Medea. My soul is strong enough, and wont
to scorn
The wealth of kings ; this, boon alone I crave,
T o take my children with me when I go;
Into their bosoms I would shed my tears,
New sons are thine.
Jason.
Would I might grant thy prayer; 545
Paternal love forbids me, Creon's self
Could not compel me to it. They alone
Lighten the sorrow of a grief-parched soul.
For them I live, I sooner would resign
Breath, members, light.
Medea \_aside\. 'Tis well! H e loves his sons, 55°
This, then, the place where he may feel a wound !
\To Jasoni] Before I go, thou wilt, at least, permit
That I should give my sons a last farewell,
A last embrace ? But one thing more I ask :
If in my grief IVe poured forth threatening
words,
555
Retain t h e m not in m i n d ; let m e m o r y hold

Scene III

Medea

27

Only my softer speech, my words of wrath
Obliterate.
Jason.
I have erased them all
From my remembrance. I would counsel thee
Be calm, act gently ; cal nness quiets pain.
560
[Exit Jason.
SCENE
Medea,

III
Nurse.

Medea. He's gone! And can it be he leaves
me so,
Forgetting me and all my guilt ? Forgot ?
Nay, never shall Medea be forgot!
U p ! Act! Call all thy power to aid thee now;
This fruit of crime is thine, to shun no crime ! 565
Deceit is useless, so they fear my guile.
Strike where they do not dream thou canst be
feared.
Medea, haste, be bold to undertake
The possible — yea, that which is not so !
Thou, faithful nurse, companion of my griefs 570
And varying fortunes, aid my wretched plans.
I have a robe, gift of the heavenly powers,
An ornament of a king's palace, given
By Phoebus to my father as a pledge
Of sonship ; and a necklace of wrought gold ; 575
And a bright diadem, inlaid with gems,
With which they used to bind my hair. These
gifts,
Endued with poison by my magic arts,

28

Seneca

Act III

M y sons shall carry for me to the bride.
Pay vows to Hecate, bring the sacrifice,
Set up the altars. Let the m o u n t i n g flame
E n v e l o p all the house.
SCENE

580

IV

Chorus.
Fear not the power of flame, nor
swelling gale,
N o r hurtling dart, nor cloudy wain that brings
T h e winter s t o r m s ; fear not when D a n u b e
sweeps
585
Unchecked between its widely severed shores,
N o r when the R h o n e hastes seaward, and the
sun
H a s broken u p the snow upon the hills,
A n d H e r m e s flows in rivers.
A wife deserted, loving while she hates,
590
Fear greatly; blindly burns her anger's flame,
F o r kings she cares not, will not bear the curb.
Ye gods, we ask your grace divine for him
W h o safely crossed the seas; the ocean's lord
Is angry for his conquered k i n g d o m ' s s a k e ;
595
Spare Jason, we entreat!
T h ' impetuous youth who dared to drive the car
Of Phoebus, keeping not the wonted course,
Died in the furious fires himself had lit.
Few are the evils of the well-known way ;
600
Seek the old paths your fathers safely trod,
T h e sacred federations of the world
Keep still inviolate.

Scene IV

Medea

29

The men who dipped the oars of that brave ship ;
W h o plundered of their shade the sacred groves
Of Pelion ; passed between the unstable cliffs ;
Endured so many hardships on the deep;
And cast their anchor on a savage coast,
Passing again with ravished foreign gold,
Atoned with fearful death upon the sea
610
F o r violated law.
The angry deep demanded punishment:
Tiphys to an unskillful pilot left
The rudder. On a foreign coast he fell,
Far from his father's kingdom, and he lies
615
With nameless shades, under a lowly tomb.
Becalmed in her still harbor Aulis held
The impatient ships, remembering in wrath
The king that she lost thence.
The fair Camena's son, who touched his lyre 620
So sweetly that the floods stood still, the winds
Were silent, and the birds forgot to sing,
And forests followed him, on Thracian fields
Lies dead, his head borne down by Hebrus' stream.
H e touched again the Styx and Tartarus,
625
But not again returns.
Alcides overthrew t h e north wind's s o n s ;
H e slew that son of N e p t u n e who could take
U n n u m b e r e d f o r m s ; b u t after he had made
Peace between land and sea, and opened wide 630
T h e realm of Dis, lying on OEta's t o p
H e gave his body to t h e cruel fire,
Destroyed by his wife's gift — the fatal robe
Poisoned with Centaur's blood.

30

Seneca

Act III

Ankaeus fell a victim to the boar
635
Of Caledonia ; Meleager slew
His mother's brother, stained his hands with
blood
Of his own mother. They have merited
Their lot, but what the crime that he atoned
By death whom Hercules long sought in vain — 640
The tender Hylas drawn beneath safe waves ?
Go now, brave soldiers, boldly plow the main,
But fear the gentle streams.
Idmon the serpents buried in the sands
Of Libya, though he knew the future well.
645
Mopsus, to others true, false to himself,
Fell far from Thebes; and he who tried to burn
T h e crafty Greeks fell headlong to the deep :
Such death was meet for crime.
Oileus, smitten by the thunderbolt,
650
D i e d on t h e o c e a n ; a n d Pherseus' wife
Fell for her husband, so averting fate;
H e who commanded that the golden spoil
Be carried to the ships had traveled far,
But, plunged in seething cauldron, Pelias died 655
In narrow limits. 'Tis enough, ye gods ;
Ye have avenged the sea!

ACT IV
SCENE I

Nurse. I shrink with horror ! Ruin threatens
us !
How terribly her wrath inflames itself!
Her former force awakes, thus I have seen
660
Medea raging and attacking god.
Compelling heaven. Greater crime than then
She now prepares, for as with frantic step
She sought the sanctuary of her crimes,
She poured forth all her threats; and what before 665
She feared she now brings forth ; lets loose a host
Of poisonous evils, arts mysterious ;
With sad left hand outstretched invokes all ills
That Libyan sands with their fierce heat create,
Or frost-bound Taurus with perpetual snow 670
Encompasses. Drawn by her magic spell
The serpent drags his heavy length along,
Darts his forked tongue, and seeks his destined
prey.
Hearing her incantation, he draws back
And knots his swelling body coiling it. —
675
' T h e y are but feeble poisons earth brings forth,
And harmless darts,' she says, ' heaven's ills I
seek.
Now is the time for deeper sorcery.
3*

32

Seneca

Act IV

The dragon like a torrent shall descend,
Whose mighty folds the Great and Lesser Bear 680
Know well; Ophiuchus shall loose his grasp
And poison flow. Be present at my call,
Python, who dared to fight twin deities.
The Hydra slain by Hercules shall come
Healed of his wound. Thou watchful Colchian
one,
685
Be present with t h e rest — t h o u , w h o first slept
Lulled by my incantations/ When the brood
Of serpents has been called she blends the juice
Of poisonous herbs; all Eryx' pathless heights
Bear, or the open top of Caucasus
690
Wet with Prometheus' blood, where winter reigns ;
All that the rich Arabians use to tip
Their poisoned shafts, or the light Parthians,
Or warlike Medes; all the brave Suabians cull
In the Hyrcanian forests in the north;
695
All poisons that the earth brings forth in spring
When birds are nesting; or when winter cold
Has torn away the beauty of the groves
And bound the world in icy manacles.
Whatever herb gives flower the cause of death, 700
Or juice of twisted root, her hands have culled.
These on Thessalian Athos grew, and those
On mighty Pindus; on Pangaeus' height
She cut the tender herbs with bloody scythe.
These Tigris nurtured with its current deep, 7°5
The Danube those; Hydaspes rich in gems
Flowing with current wTarm through levels dry,
Baetis that gives its name to neighboring lands

Scene II

Medea

23

And meets the western ocean languidly,
Have nurtured these. Those have been cut at
dawn;
7IQ
These other herbs at dead of night were reaped;
And these were gathered with the enchanted hook.
Death-dealing plants she chooses, wrings the blood
Of serpents, and she takes ill-omened birds,
The sad owl's heart, the quivering entrails cut 7lS
From the horned owl living; — sorts all these.
In some the eager force of flame is found,
In some the bitter cold of sluggish ice;
T o these she adds the venom of her words
As greatly to be feared. She stamps her feet; 720
She sings, and the world trembles at her song.

SCENE

II

Medea, before the altar of Hecate.

Medea. Here I invoke you, silent company,
Infernal gods, blind Chaos, sunless home
Of shadowy Dis, and squalid caves of Death
Bound by the banks of Tartarus. Lost souls, 725
For this new bridal leave your wonted toil.
Stand still, thou whirling wheel, Ixion touch
Again firm ground; come, Tantalus, and drink
Unchecked the wave of the Pirenian fount.
Let heavier punishment on Creon wait: —
73°
Thou stone of Sisyphus, worn smooth, roll back;
And ye Dana'ides who strive in vain
T o fill your leaking jars, I need your aid.

34

Seneca

Act IV

Come at my invocation, star of night,
Endued with form most horrible, nor threat 735
With single face, thou three-formed deity!
T o thee, according to my country's use,
With hair unfilleted and naked feet
I've trod the sacred groves ; called forth the rain
From cloudless skies; have driven back the sea; 740
And forced the ocean to withdraw its waves.
Earth sees heaven's laws confused, the sun and
stars
Shining together, and the two Bears wet
In the forbidden ocean. I have changed
T h e circle of the seasons : — a t my word
745
Earth flourishes with summer; Ceres sees
A winter harvest; Phasis' rushing stream
Flows to its source; the Danube that divides
Into so many mouths restrains its flood
Of waters — hardly moving past its shores.
75°
The winds are silent; but the waters speak,
T h e wild seas roar; the home of ancient groves
Loses its leafy shade; the day withdraws
At my command; the sun stands still in heaven.
My incantations move the Hyades.
755
It is thy hour, Diana!
For thee my bloody hands have wrought this
crown
Nine times by serpents girt; those knotted
snakes
Rebellious Typhon bore, who made revolt
Against Jove's kingdom; Nessus gave this blood 760
When dying; CEta's funeral pyre provides

Scene II

Medea

35

These ashes which have drunk the poisoned blood
Of dying Hercules ; and here thou seest
Althea's vengeful brand. The harpies left
These feathers in the pathless den they made 765
A refuge when they fled from Zete's wrath;
And these were dropped by the Stymphalian birds
That felt the wound of arrows dipped in blood
Of the Lernsean Hydra.
The altars find a voice, the tripod moves
77°
Stirred by the favoring goddess. H e r swift car
I see approach — not the full-orbed that rolls
All night through heaven; but as, with darkened
light,
Troubled by the Thessalians she comes,
So her sad face upon my altars sheds
775
A murky light. Terrify with new dread
The men of earth ! Costly Corinthian brass
Sounds in thy honor, Hecate, and on ground
Made red with blood I pay these solemn rites
T o thee; for thee have stolen from the tomb 78°
This torch that gives its baleful funeral light;
T o thee with bowed head I have made my prayer;
And in accordance with my country's use,
My loose hair filleted, have plucked for thee
This branch that grows beside the Stygian wave; 785
Like a wild Maenad, laying bare my breast,
With sacred knife I cut for thee my arm;
My blood is on the altars! Hand, learn well
T o strike thy dearest! See, my blood flows forth !
Daughter of Perseus, have I asked too oft
79°
Thine aid ? Recall no more my former prayers.

36

Seneca

Act IV

T o - d a y as always I invoke thine aid
F o r Jason's sake alone ! E n d u e this robe
W i t h such a baleful power that t h e bride
M a y feel at its first touch consuming
fire
795
O f serpent's poison in her inmost v e i n s ;
L e t fire lurk hid in the bright gold, the fire
Prometheus gave and taught men how to store —
H e now atones his daring theft from heaven
W i t h tortured vitals. Mulciber has given
800
T h i s flame, and I in sulphur nurtured i t ;
I brought a spark from the destroying fire
O f Phaeton ; I have the flame breathed forth
By the Chimaera, and the fire I snatched
F r o m Colchis'savage b u l l ; and mixed with these 805
Medusa's venom. I have bade all serve
M y secret sorcery; now, Hecate, add
T h e sting of poison, aid t h e seeds of flame
H i d in m y gift; let them deceive the sight
B u t burn the t o u c h ; let the heat penetrate
810
H e r very heart and veins, stiffen her limbs,
Consume her bones in smoke. H e r burning hair
Shall glow more brightly than the nuptial torch!
M y vows are paid, and Hecate thrice has barked,
A n d shaken fire from her funeral torch.
815
'Tis finished! Call my sons. My precious
gifts,
Ye shall be borne by them to the new bride.
Go, go, my sons, a hapless mother's sons!
Placate with gifts and prayers your father's wife !
But come again with speed, that I may know 820
A last embrace!

Scene III

Medea

SCENE

37

III

Chorus. Where hastes the blood-stained Maenad, headlong driven
By angry love? What mischief plots her rage?
With wrath her face grows rigid; her proud
head
She fiercely shakes; threatens the king in wrath. 825
Who would believe her exiled from the realm ?
Her cheeks glow crimson, pallor puts to flight
T h e red, no color lingers on her face;
Her steps are driven to and fro as when
A tiger rages, of its young bereft,
830
Beside t h e Ganges in t h e g l o o m y woods.
M e d e a k n o w s n o t h o w to curb h e r love
Or hate. Now love and hate together rage.
When will she leave the fair Pelasgian fields,
The wicked Colchian one, and free from fear 835
Our king and kingdom ? Drive with no slow rein
T h y car, Diana; let the sweet night hide
The sunlight. Hesperus, end the dreaded day.

ACT V
SCENE

I

Messenger, Chorus.

Messenger [enters in baste].
All are destroyed,
the royal empire falls,
F a t h e r and child lie in one funeral pyre.
840
Chorus.
Destroyed by what deceit ?
Messenger.
T h a t which is wont
T o ruin princes — gifts.
Chorus.
Could these work harm ?
Messenger.
I myself wonder, and can hardly
deem
T h e wrong accomplished, t h o u g h I know it done.
Chorus. H o w did it happen ?
Messenger.
A destructive fire 845
Spreads everywhere as at c o m m a n d ; even now
T h e city is in fear, the palace burned.
Chorus.
L e t water quench the flames.
Messenger.
I t will not these,
A s by a miracle floods feed the fire.
T h e more we fight it so m u c h more it glows. 850
SCENE

Medea,

II

Nurse.

Nurse.
U p ! u p ! M e d e a ! Swiftly flee the land
O f Pelops ; seek in haste a distant shore.
38

Scene II

Medea

39

Medea. Shall I fly ? I ? Were I already gone
I would return for this, that I might see
These new betrothals. Dost thou pause, my
soul ?
855
T h i s joy's b u t the beginning of revenge.
T h o u dost b u t love if thou art satisfied
T o widow Jason. Seek new penalties,
H o n o r is gone and maiden m o d e s t y , —
I t were a light revenge pure hands could yield. 860
Strengthen thy drooping spirit, stir u p wrath,
Drain from t h y heart its all of ancient force,
T h y deeds till now call h o n o r ; wake, and act,
T h a t they may see how light, how little worth,
All former crime — the prelude of revenge ! 865
W h a t was there great m y novice hands could dare?
W h a t was the madness of m y girlhood days ?
I am M e d e a now, through sorrow strong.
Rejoice, because through thee thy brother died;
Rejoice, because through thee his limbs were
torn,
870
T h r o u g h thee t h y father lost the golden fleece;
Rejoice, that armed by thee his daughters slew
Old Pelias ! Seek revenge ! N o novice hand
T h o u bring'st to crime; what wilt thou d o ;
what dart
Let fly against t h y hated enemy ?
875
I know not what my maddened spirit plots,
Nor yet dare I confess it to myself!
In folly I made haste — would that my foe
Had children by this other! Mine are his,
We'll say Creusa bore them ! 'Tis enough ; 880

4o

Seneca

Act V

Through them my heart at last finds full revenge ;
M y soul must be prepared for this last crime.
Ye who were once my children, mine no more,
Ye pay the forfeit for your father's crimes.
Awe strikes my spirit and benumbs my hand; 885
My heart beats wildly; mother-love drives out
Hate of my husband; shall I shed their blood —
My children's blood ? Demented one, rage not,
Be far from thee this crime! What guilt is theirs ?
Is Jason not their father ? — guilt enough!
890
And worse, Medea claims them as her sons.
They are not sons of mine, so let them die!
Nay, rather let them perish since they are!
But they are innocent—my brother was!
Fear'st thou ? Do tears already mar thy cheek ? 895
Do wrath and love like adverse tides impel
Now here, now there ? As when the winds wage war,
And the wild waves against each other smite,
My heart is beaten; duty drives out fear,
As wrath drives duty. Anger dies in love.
900
Dear sons, sole solace of a storm-tossed house,
Come hither, he may have you safe if I
May claim you too ! But he has banished me ;
Already from my bosom torn away
They go lamenting — perish then to both,
905
T o him as me! My wrath again grows hot;
Furies, I go wherever you may lead.
Would that the children of the haughty child
Of Tantalus were mine, that I had borne
Twice seven sons ! In bearing only two*
910
I have been cursed ! And yet it is enough

Scene III

Medea

41

F o r father, brother, that I have borne two. —
W h e r e does that horde of furies haste ? whom seek ?
F o r w h o m prepare their fires ? or for w h o m
I n t e n d s t h e infernal band its bloody torch ? 915
W h o m does Megaera seek with hostile brand ?
T h e mighty dragon lasses its fierce tail —
W h a t shade uncertain brings its scattered limbs ?
I t is m y brother, and he seeks r e v e n g e ;
I grant it, thrust t h e torches in m y e y e s ;
920
Kill, burn, t h e furies have m e in their p o w e r !
Brother, command the avenging goddesses •T o leave me, and the shades to seek their place
I n t h e infernal regions without fear;
H e r e leave m e to myself, a n d use this hand 925
T h a t held t h e sword — your soul has found revenge.
/ „
[Kills one of her sons.
What is the sudden noise ? They come in arms
And think to drive me into banishment.
I will go up on the high roof, come thou;
I'll take the body with? me. Now my soul, 93°
Strike! hold not hid thy power, but show the world
What thou art able.
[_Sbe goes out with the nurse and the living boy,
and carries with her the body of her dead son.
SCENE

III

"Jason in the foreground, Medea with the children appears
upon the roof

Jason. Ye faithful ones, who share
In the misfortunes of your harassed king,

42

Seneca

Act V

H a s t e n to take the author of these deeds.
935
Come hither, hither, cohorts of brave m e n ;
Bring u p your weapons ; overthrow the house.
Medea.
I have recaptured now my crown and

throne,
My brother and my father; Colchians hold
The golden fleece; my kingdom is won back ; 940
My lost virginity returns to m e !
0 gods appeased, marriage, and happy days,
Go now,—my vengeance is complete ! Not yet —
Finish it while thy hands are strong to strike.
W h y seek delay ? Why hesitate, my soul ? 945
Thou art able ! All thine anger falls to nought!
1 do repent of that which I have done!
Why did'st thou do it, miserable one ?
Yea, miserable ! Ruth shall follow thee !
'Tis done, great joy fills my unwilling heart, 950
And, lo, the joy increases. But one thing
Before was lacking — Jason did not see !
All that he has not seen I count as lost.
Jason. She threatens from the roof; let fire
be brought,
954
T h a t she m a y perish b u r n e d with her own flame.
Medea.
Pile high t h e funeral pyre of t h y sons,
A n d rear their t o m b . T o Creon a n d t h y wife
I have already paid t h e honors d u e .
T h i s son is dead, and this shall soon be so,
A n d t h o u shalt see h i m perish.
Jason.
By the gods, 960
By our sad flight together, and the bond
I have not willingly forsaken, spare

Scene III

Medea

43

Our son ! If there is any crime, 'tis mine ;
Put me to death, strike down the guilty one.
Medea. There where thou askest mercy, and
canst feel
965
T h e sting, I thrust the sword. Go, Jason, seek
Thy virgin bride, desert a mother's bed.
Jason. Let one suffice for vengeance.
Medea.
H a d it been
That one could satisfy my hands with blood,
I had slain none. But two is not enough.
97°
Jason. Then go, fill up the measure of thy
crime,
I ask for nothing but that thou should'st make
A speedy end.
Medea.
Now, grief, take slow revenge;
It is my day ; haste not, let me enjoy.
[Kills the other child.
Jason. Slay me, mine enemy !
Medea.
Dost thou implore 975
My pity ? It is well I I am avenged.
Grief, there is nothing more that thou canst slay !
Look up, ungrateful Jason, recognize
T h y wife ; so I am wont to flee. The way
Lies open through the skies; two dragons bend
Their necks, submissive to the yoke. I go 98*
In my bright car through heaven. Take thy sons !
[She casts down to him the bodies of her children^
and is borne away in a chariot drawn by dragons.
Jason.
Go through the skies sublime, and
going prove
983
That the gods dwell not in the heavens you seek.

THE DAUGHTERS OF TROY

DRAMATIS

PERSONAE

AGAMEMNON.
ULYSSES.
PYRRHUS.
CALCHAS.
TALTHYBIUS.
ASTYANAX.
HECUBA.
ANDROMACHE.
HELEN.
POLYXENA.
AN OLD MAN.
MESSENGER.
C H O R U S OF T R O J A N
SCENE —

WOMEN.

Troy.

T H E DAUGHTERS OF TROY
ACT I
SCENE I

Hecuba. Let him who puts his trust in kingly
crown,
Who rules in prince's court with power supreme,
Who, credulous of heart, dreads not the gods,
But in his happy lot confides, behold
My fate and Troy's. Never by clearer proof 5
Was shown how frail a thing is human pride.
Strong Asia's capital, the work of gods,
Is fallen; and she beneath whose banners fought
The men who drink the Tanais' cold stream
That flows by sevenfold outlet to the sea,
10
And those who see the new-born day where blends
Tigris' warm waters with the blushing strait,
Is fallen; her walls and towers, to ashes burned,
Lie low amid her ruined palaces.
The flames destroy the city ; far and near
15
Smolders the home of King Assaracus.
But flames stay not the eager conqueror's hand
From plundering Troy. The sky is hid with
smoke;
And day, as though enveloped in black cloud,
47

48

Seneca

Act I

Is dark with ashes. Eager for revenge,
20
The victor stands and measures her slow fall;
Forgets the long ten years; deplores her fate;
Nor yet believes that he has vanquished her,
Although he sees her conquered in the dust.
The pillagers are busy with the spoil;
25
A thousand ships will hardly bear it hence.
Witness, ye adverse deities; and ye,
My country's ashes, and thou, Phrygia's king,
Buried beneath the ruins of thy realm ;
Ye spirits of the mighty, in whose life
30
Troy lived ; and ye my offspring, lesser shades ; —
Whatever ills have happened; whatsoe'er
The priestess of Apollo, to whose word
The god denied belief, has prophesied,
I, going great with child, have earlier feared,
35
Nor feared in silence, though in vain I spoke; —
Cassandra too has prophesied in vain.
Alas, 'twas not the crafty Ithacan,
Nor the companions of his night attack,
Nor Sinon false, who flung into your midst
40
Devouring flame ; the glowing torch was mine !
Aged, and sick of life, why weep for Troy ?
Unhappy one, recall more recent woes;
The fall of Troy is now an ancient grief!
I've seen the murder of a king — base crime ! 45
And, at the altar's foot allowed, I've seen
A baser crime, when iEacus' fierce son,
His left hand in the twisted locks, bent back
That royal head, and drove the iron home
In the deep wound ; freely it was received,
5°

Scene II

T h e Daughters of T r o y

49

And buried deep, and yet drawn forth unstained,
So sluggish is the blood of frozen age.
This old man's cruel death at the last mete
Of human life ; and the immortal gods,
Witnesses of the deed; and fallen Troy's
55
Fair altars, cannot stay the savage hand.
Priam, the father of so many kings,
Has found no grave, and in the flames of Troy
No funeral pyre, and yet the wrathful gods
Are not appeased ; behold, the lot is cast
60
That gives to Priam's daughters and his sons
A master; and I go to servitude.
This one seeks Hector's wife, this Helenus';
And this Antenor's ; nor are wanting those
Who long for thee, Cassandra; me alone
65
They shun, and I alone affright the Greeks.
Why cease your lamentations, captive ones ?
Make moan, and smite your breasts, pay funeral
rites;
Let fatal Ida, home of your harsh judge,
Reecho long your sorrowful lament.
70
SCENE

II

Hecuba, Chorus of Trojan Women.

Chorus. You bid those weep who are not new
to grief;
Our lamentations have not ceased to rise
From that day when the Phrygian stranger sought
Grecian Amyclae; and the sacred pine

5°

Seneca

Act 1

Of Mother Cybele, through Grecian seas
75
A pathway cut. Ten times the winter snows
Have whitened I d a — Ida stripped of trees
To furnish Trojan dead with funeral pyres —
Ten times the trembling reaper has gone forth
T o cut the bearded grain from Ilium's fields, 80
Since any day has seen us free from tears.
New sorrows ask new mourning, lift thy hand
And beat upon thy breast: thy followers, queen,
Are not inept at weeping.
Hecuba.
Faithful ones,
Companions of my grief, unbind your hair ;
85
About your shoulders let it flow defiled
With Troy's hot ashes ; come with breast exposed,
Carelessly loosened robes, and naked limbs;
W h y veil your modest bosoms, captive ones ?
Gird up your flowing tunics, free your hands 90
For fierce and frequent beating of your breasts.
So I am satisfied, I recognize
My Trojan followers; again I hear
Their wonted lamentations. Weep indeed ;
We weep for Hector.
Chorus.
We unbind our hair, 95
So often torn in wild laments, and strew
Troy's glowing ashes on our heads ; permit
Our loosened robe to drop from shoulders bare;
Our naked bosoms now invite our blows.
O sorrow, show thy power; let Rhoeta's
shores
100
Give back the blows, nor from her hollow hills
Faint Echo sound the closing words alone,

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

51

But let her voice repeat each bitter groan,
And earth and ocean hear. With cruel blows
Smite, smite, nor be content with faint laments : 105
We weep for Hector.
Hecuba. For thee our hands have torn our
naked arms
And bleeding shoulders ; Hector, 'tis for thee
We beat our brows and lacerate our breasts;
The wounds inflicted in thy funeral rites
no
Still gape and flow with blood. Thou, Hector,
wast
The pillar of thy land, her fates' delay,
The prop of wearied Phrygians, and the wall
Of T r o y ; by thee supported, firm she stood,
Ten years upheld. With thee thy country fell, 115
Her day of doom and Hector's were the same.
Weep now for Priam, smite for him your breasts ;
Hector has tears enough.
Chorus. Pilot of Phrygia, twice a captive made,
Receive our tears, receive our wild laments.
120
Whilst thou wast king, Troy suffered many woes ;
Twice by Greek weapons were her walls assailed;
Twice were they made a target for the darts
Of Hercules; and when that kingly band,
Hecuba's offspring, had been offered up,
125
With thee, their sire, the funeral rites were stayed ;
An offering to great Jove, thy headless trunk
Lies on Sigea's plain.
Hecuba.
Women of Troy,
For others shed your tears; not Priam's death
I weep ; say rather all, thrice happy he !
130

5*

Seneca

Act I

Free he descended to the land of shades.
Nor will he ever bear on conquered neck
The Grecian yoke ; nor the Atrides see ;
Nor look on shrewd Ulysses; nor, a slave,
Carry the trophies on his neck to grace
135
A Grecian triumph; feel his sceptered hands
Bound at his back; nor add a further pomp
T o proud Mycene, forced in golden chains
T o follow Agamemnon's royal car.
Chorus. Thrice happy Priam ! as a king he
went
140
Into the land of spirits ; wanders now
Through the safe shadows of Elysian Fields,
In happiness among the peaceful shades,
And seeks for Hector. Happy Priam say!
Thrice happy he, who, dying in the fight, 145
Bears with him to destruction all his land.

ACT

II

SCENE I
Talthybius, Chorus of Trojan Women.

Talthybius. O long delay, that holds the
Greeks in port,
Whether they seek for war or for their homes.
Chorus. Say what the reason of the long delay,
What god forbids the Greeks the homeward
road?

150

Talthybius. I tremble, and my spirit shrinks
with fear;
Such prodigies will hardly find belief.
I saw them, I myself; Titan had touched
The mountain summits, dayspring conquered
night,
When, on a sudden, with a muttered groan, 155
Earth trembled, in the woods the tree-tops shook;
The lofty forests and the sacred grove
Thundered with mighty ruin; Ida's cliffs
Fell from her summit; nor did earth alone
Tremble, the ocean also recognized
160
Achilles' coming, and laid bare her depths;
In the torn earth a gloomy cavern yawned;
A way was opened up from Erebus
T o upper day; the tomb gave up its dead;
The towering shade of the Thessalian chief
165
53 .

54

Act II

Seneca

Leaped forth as when, preparing for thy fate,
O Troy, he put to flight the Thracian host,
And struck down Neptune's shining, fair-haired
son;
Or as when, breathing battle from the field,
H e filled the rivers with the fallen dead,
170
And Xanthus wandered over bloody shoals
Seeking slow channels; or as when he stood
In his proud car, a victor, while he dragged
Hector and Troy behind him in the dust.
His wrathful voice rang out along the shore: 175
c
Go, go, ye slothful ones, pay honors due
M y manes. Let the thankless ships be freed
T o sail my seas. Not lightly Greece has felt
Achilles' wrath; that wrath shall heavier fall.
Polyxena, betrothed to me in death,
180
Must die a sacrifice at Pyrrhus' hand,
And make my tomb glow crimson.' Thus he
spake,
Shadowed the day with night, and sought again
The realm of Dis. H e took the riven path ;
Earth closed above him, and the tranquil sea 185
Lay undisturbed, the raging wind was still,
Softly the ocean murmured, Tritons sang
From the blue deep their hymeneal chant.
SCENE

II

Agamemnon, Pyrrbus,

Pyrrhus. When, homeward turning, you would
fain have spread

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

55

Your happy sails, Achilles was forgot.
190
By him alone struck down, Troy fell; her fall,
Ev'n at his death, was but so long delayed
As she stood doubtful whither she should fall;
Haste as you will to give him what he asks
You give too late. Already all the chiefs
195
Have carried off their prizes ; what reward
Of lesser price have you to offer him
For so great valor ? Does he merit less ?
He, bidden shun the battle and enjoy
A long and happy age, outnumbering
200
The many years of Pylos' aged king,
Threw off his mother's mantle, stood confessed
A man of arms. When Telephus in vain
Refused Achilles entrance to the coast
Of rocky Mysia, with his royal blood
205
H e stained Achilles' hand, b u t found that hand
Gentle as strong. W h e n T h e b e s was overcome
Eetion, its conquered ruler, saw
H i s realm made captive. W i t h like slaughter fell
Little Lyrnessus, built at Ida's foot;
210
Briseia's land was captured ; Chryse,. too,
T h e cause of royal strife, is o v e r t h r o w n ;
A n d well-known T e n e d o s , and Sciro's isle
T h a t , rich with fertile pastures, nourishes
T h e Thracian herd, and Lesbos that divides 215
T h e iEgean straits, Cilia to Phoebus dear,
Yes, a n d whatever land Caicus laves
W i t h its green depths of waters. T h i s had been
T o any other, glory, honor, f a m e , —
Achilles is b u t on the m a r c h ; so sped
220

56

Seneca

Act II

My father, and so great the war he waged
While he made ready for his great campaign.
Though I were silent of his other deeds,
Would it not be enough that Hector died ?
My father conquered Ilium ; as for you,
225
You have but made it naught. It gives me joy
T o speak the praises and illustrious deeds
Of my great sire: how Hector in the eyes
Of fatherland and father prostrate fell,
How Memnon, too, lies slain, whose mother
shuns
230
T h e gloomy light of day, with pallid cheek
M o u r n i n g his fate; a n d at his own great deeds
Achilles trembles, and, a victor, learns
T h a t death m a y touch t h e children of a g o d .
T h e A m a z o n s ' harsh queen, t h y final fear,
235
Last yielded. Wouldst thou honor worthily
His mighty arms, then yield him what he will,
Though he should ask a virgin from the land
Of Argos or Mycene. Dost thou doubt;
Too soon content, art loth to offer up
240
A maiden, Priam's child, to Peleus' son ?
T h y child was sacrificed to Helenus,
'Tis not an unaccustomed gift I ask,
Agamemnon. T o have no power to check the
passions' glow
Is ever found a fault of youthful hearts ;
245
That which in others is the zeal of youth,
In Pyrrhus is his father's fiery heart.
Thus mildly once I stood the savage threats
Of iEacus' fierce son ; most patiently

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

57

H e bears, who is most strong. With slaughter
harsh
250
W h y sprinkle our illustrious leader's shade ?
Learn first how much the conqueror may do,
The conquered suffer. 'Tis the mild endure,
But he who harshly rules, rules not for long.
The higher Fortune doth exalt a man,
255
Increasing human power, so much the more —
Fearing the gods who too much favor him,
And not unmindful of uncertain fate —
H e should be meek. In conquering, I have
learned
How in a moment greatness is o'erthrown.
260
Has Trojan triumph too soon made us proud?
We stand, we Greeks, in that place whence Troy
fell.
Imperious I have been, and borne myself
At times too proudly; Fortune's gifts correct
In me the pride they oft in others rouse.
265
Priam, thou mak'st me proud, but mak'st me fear.
What can I deem my scepter, but a name
Made bright with idle glitter; or my crown,
But empty ornament ? Fate overthrows
Swiftly, nor will it need a thousand ships,
270
Perchance, n o r ten years' war. I own, indeed,
(This can I do, oh Argive land, nor wound
T h y honor) I have troubled Phrygia
And wished her conquered; but I would have
stayed
The hand that crushed and laid her in the dust. 275
A foe enraged, who gains the victory

58

Seneca

Act II

By night, checks not his raging at command;
Whatever cruel or unworthy deed
Appeared in any, anger was the cause —
Anger and darkness and the savage sword
280
Made glad with blood and seeking still for more.
All that yet stands of ruined Troy shall stand,
Enough of punishment —more than enough —
Has been exacted; that a royal maid
Should fall, and, offered as a sacrifice
285
Upon a tomb, should crimson with her blood
The ashes, and this hateful crime be called
A marriage — I will never suffer it.
Upon my head would rest the guilt of all;
H e who forbids not crime when he has power, 290
Commands it.
Pyrrhus.
Shall Achilles then go hence
With empty hand?
Agamemnon.
No, all shall tell his praise,
And unknown lands shall sing his glorious name ;
And if his shade would take delight in blood
Poured forth upon his ashes, let us slay
295
A Phrygian sheep, rich sacrifice. No blood
Shall flow to cause a sorrowing mother's tears.
What fashion this, by which a living soul
Is sacrificed to one gone down to hell ?
Think not to soil thy father's memory
300
With such revenge, commanding us to pay
Due reverence with blood.
Pyrrhus.
Harsh king of kings!
So arrogant while favoring fortune smiles,
So timid when aught threatens ! Is thy heart

Scene II

T h e Daughters of Troy

59

So soon inflamed with love and new desire; 3°5
And wilt thou bear away from us the spoil ?
I'll give Achilles back, with this right hand,
His victim, and, if thou withholdest her,
I'll give a greater, and whom Pyrrhus gives
Will prove one worthy. All too long our hand 310
Has ceased from slaughter, Priam seeks his peer.
Agamemnon. That was, indeed, the worthiest
warlike act
Of Pyrrhus: with relentless hand he slew
Priam, whose suppliant prayer Achilles heard.
Pyrrhus. W e know our father's foes were
suppliants,
3*5
But Priam made his prayer himself, whilst thou,
Not brave to ask, and overcome with fear,
Lurked trembling in thy tent, and sought as aid
The intercessions of the Ithacan
And Ajax.
Agamemnon. That thy father did not fear, 320
I own ; amid the slaughter of the Greeks
And burning of the fleet, forgetting war,
H e idly lay, and with his plectrum touched
Lightly his lyre.
Pyrrhus.
Mighty Hector then
Laughed at thy arms but feared Achilles' song; 325
By reason of that fear peace reigned supreme
In the Thessalian fleet.
Agamemnon.
There was in truth
Deep peace for Hector's father in that fleet.
Pyrrhus. T o grant kings life is kingly.
Agamemnon.
Why wouldst thou

6o

Seneca

Act II

W i t h t h y right hand cut short a royal life ? 330
Pyrrhus.
M e r c y gives often death instead of
life.
Agamemnon.
M e r c y seeks now a virgin for
the t o m b ?
Pyrrhus.
T h o u deemst it crime t o sacrifice a
maid?
Agamemnon.
M o r e than their children, kings
should love their land.
Pyrrhus.
N o law spares captives or denies
revenge.
335
Agamemnon.
W h a t law forbids not, h o n o r ' s
self forbids.
Pyrrhus.
T o victors is permitted what they
will.
Agamemnon.
H e least should wish to w h o m is
granted most.
Pyrrhus.
A n d this thou sayest to u s , w h o ten
long years
339
H a v e borne t h y heavy yoke, w h o m m y hand
freed ?
Agamemnon.
I s this t h e boast of Scyros ?
Pyrrhus.
There no stain
Of brother's blood is found.
Agamemnon.
Shut in b y waves —
Pyrrhus.
N a y , b u t t h e seas are k i n . I k n o w
t h y house —
Yea, A t r e u s ' and T h y e s t e s ' noble house !
344
Agamemnon.
Son of Achilles ere he was a m a n ,
A n d of t h e maid he ravished secretly —
Pyrrhus.
O f that Achilles, w h o , by right of
race,

Scene III

The Daughters of Troy

61

Through all the world held sway, inherited
The ocean from his mother, and the shades
From iEacus, from Jupiter the sky.
35°
Agamemnon. Achilles, who by Paris' hand was
slain.
Pyrrbus. One whom the gods attacked not
openly.
Agamemnon. T o curb thy insolence and daring
words
I well were able, but my sword can spare
The conquered.
[To some of the soldiers, who surround him.
Call t h e g o d ' s interpreter. 355
\A few of the soldiers go out, Calchas comes in.
SCENE

III

Agamemnon, Pyrrhus, Calchas.

Agamemnon.
\To Calchas.~\ T h o u , w h o hast
freed the anchors of the fleet;
Ended the war's delay; and by thy arts
Hast opened heaven; to whom the secret things
Revealed in sacrifice, in shaken earth,
And star that draws through heaven its flaming
length,
360
A r e messengers of fate; whose words have been
T o me the words of doom; speak, Calchas, tell
What thing the god commands, and govern us
By thy wise counsels.
Calchas.
Fate a pathway grants

62

Seneca

Act II

T o Grecians only at the wonted price.
365
A virgin must be slain u p o n the tomb
O f the Thessalian leader, and adorned
I n robes like those Thessalian virgins wear
T o grace their bridals, or Ionian maids,
O r damsels of M y c e n e ; and the bride
37°
Shall be by P y r r h u s to his father brought —
So is she rightly wed. Y e t not alone
Is this the cause that holds our ships in port,
But blood must flow for blood, and nobler blood
T h a n thine, Polyxena. W h o m fate d e m a n d s — 375
Grandchild of Priam, H e c t o r ' s only son —
H u r l e d headlong from T r o y ' s wall shall meet his
death;
T h e n shall our thousand sails make white the
strait.
SCENE

IV

Chorus of Trojan Women,

Is it true, or does an idle story
Make the timid dream that after death,
380
When the loved one shuts the wearied eyelids,
When the last day's sun has come and gone,
And the funeral urn has hid the ashes,
H e shall still live on among the shades ?
Does it not avail to bear the dear one
385
T o the grave ? Must misery still endure
Longer life beyond ? Does not all perish
When the fleeting spirit fades in air

Scene IV

The Daughters of Troy

63

Cloudlike ? When the dreaded fire is lighted
'Neath the body, does no part remain ?
390
Whatsoe'er the rising sun or setting
Sees ; whatever ebbing tide or flood
Of the ocean with blue waters washes,
Time with Pegasean flight destroys.
Like the sweep of whirling constellations,
395
Like the circling of their king the sun,
Haste the ages. As obliquely turning
Hecate speeds, so all must seek their fate;
H e who touches once the gloomy water
Sacred to the god, exists no more.
400
A s t h e sordid smoke from smoldering embers
Swiftly dies, or as a heavy cloud,
T h a t t h e n o r t h wind scatters, ends its being,
So t h e soul that rules us slips a w a y ;
After death is n o t h i n g ; death is nothing
405
But the last mete of a swift-run race,
W h i c h to eager souls gives hope, to fearful
Sets a limit to their fears. Believe
Eager time and the abyss engulf u s ;
Death is fatal to the flesh, nor spares
Spirit even ; Taenaris, the kingdom
O f the gloomy monarch, and the door

W h e r e sits Cerberus and guards t h e portal,
A r e b u t e m p t y rumors, senseless names,
Fables vain, that trouble anxious sleep.
A s k y o u whither go we after death ?
W h e r e they lie who never have been born.

410

4J5

ACT III
SCENE

I

Andromache, An Old Man,

Andromache. Why tear your hair, my Phrygian
followers,
Why beat your breasts and mar your cheeks with
tears ?
The grief is light that has the power to weep. 420
Troy fell for you but now, for me long since
When fierce Achilles urged at speed his car,
And dragged behind his wheel my very self;
The axle, made of wood from Pelion's groves,
Groaned heavily, and under Hector's weight 425
Trembled. O'erwhelmed and crushed, I bore
unmoved
Whate'er befell, for I was stunned with grief.
I would have followed Hector long ago,
And freed me from the Greeks, but this my son
Held me, subdued my heart, forbade my death, 43°
Compelled me still to ask the gods a boon,
Added a longer life to misery.
H e took away my sorrow's richest fruit —
T o know no fear. All chance of better things
Is snatched away, and worse are yet to come; 435
'Tis wretchedness to fear where hope is lost.
64

Scene I

The Daughters of Troy

65

Old Man.
What sudden fear assails thee.,
troubled one ?
Andromache. From great misfortunes, greater
ever spring;
Troy needs must fill the measure of her woes.
Old Man. Though he should wish, what can
the god do more?
440
Andromache.
T h e entrance of t h e bottomless
abyss
O f gloomy Styx lies open ; lest defeat
Should lack e n o u g h of fear, t h e buried foe
Comes forth from Dis. Can Greeks alone return?
Death certainly is e q u a l ; Phrygians feel
445
This common fear; a dream of dreadful night
Me only terrified.
Old Man.
What dream is this ?
Andromache. The sweet night's second watch
was hardly passed,
The Seven Stars were turning from the height;
At length there came an unaccustomed calm 45°
T o me afflicted; on my eyes there stole
Brief sleep, if that dull lethargy be sleep
That comes to grief-worn souls; when, suddenly,
Before my eyes stood Hector, not as when
H e bore against the Greeks avenging fire, 455
Seeking the Argive fleet with Trojan torch;
Nor as he raged with slaughter 'gainst the Greeks,
And bore away Achilles' arms — true spoil,
From him who played Achilles' part, nor was
A true Achilles. Not with flame-bright face 460
H e came, but marred with tears, dejected, sad,

66

Seneca

Act III

Like us, and all unkempt his loosened hair;
Yet I rejoiced to see him. Then he said,
Shaking his head : c O faithful wife, awake !
Bear hence thy son and hide him, this alone 465
Is safety. W e e p n o t ! D o you weep for T r o y ?
W o u l d all were fallen ! H a s t e n , seek a place
O f safety for the child.' T h e n I awoke,
Cold horror and a trembling broke m y sleep.
Fearful, I turned m y eyes now here, now there. 470
M e miserable, careless of m y son,
I sought for H e c t o r , b u t the fleeting shade
Slipped from m y arms, eluded m y embrace.
O child, true son of an illustrious sire;
T r o y ' s only hope ; last of a stricken race ;
475
T o o noble offspring of an ancient h o u s e ;
T o o like t h y father! Such m y H e c t o r ' s face,
Such was his gait, his manner, so he held
H i s mighty hands, and so his shoulders broad,
So threatened with bold brow when shaking
back
480
H i s heavy hair! O h , born too late for T r o y ,
T o o soon for me, will ever come that time,
T h a t happy day, when thou shalt build again
T r o y ' s walls, and lead from flight her scattered
hosts,
Avenging and defending mightily,
485
And give again a name to Troy's fair land ?
But, mindful of my fate, I dare not wish;
We live, and life is all that slaves can hope.
Alas, what place of safety can I find,
Where hide thee ? That high citadel, god-built, 490

Scene I

The Daughters of Troy

67

Is dust, her streets are flame, and naught remains
Of all the mighty city, not so much
As where to hide an infant. Oh, what place
Of safety can I find ? The mighty tomb,
Reared to my husband — this the foe must fear.
His father, Priam, in his sorrow built,
496
W i t h no ungenerous hand, great H e c t o r ' s t o m b ;
I rightly trust a father. Yet I fear
T h e baleful omen of the place of tombs,
A n d a cold sweat m y trembling members bathes. 5°°
Old Man. T h e safe may choose, the wretched
seize defense.
Andromache.
W e may not hide him without
heavy fear
Lest some one find him.
Old Man.
Cover u p the trace
O f our device.
Andromache.
A n d if the foe should ask ?
Old Man. I n the destruction of the land he
died, —
5°5
I t oft has saved a man that he was deemed
Already dead.
Andromache.
N o other hope is left.
H e bears the heavy burden of his n a m e ;
If he must come once more into their power
W h a t profits it to hide him ?
Old Man.
Victors oft
510
Are savage only in the first attack.
Andromache. [To Astyanax.~\ What distant,
pathless land will keep thee safe,
Or who protect thee, give thee aid in fear ?

68

Seneca

Act III

0 Hector, now as ever guard thine own,
Preserve the secret of thy faithful wife,
515
And to thy trusted ashes take thy child!
My son, go thou into thy father's tomb.
What, do you turn and shun the dark retreat ?
1 recognize t h y father's strength of soul,
A s h a m e d of fear. P u t b y t h y inborn pride, 520
T h y c o u r a g e ; take what fortune has to give.
See what is left of all t h e T r o j a n h o s t :
A t o m b , a child, a captive ! W e succumb
T o such misfortunes. D a r e t o enter now
T h y buried father's sacred resting-place;
525
I f fate is kind thou hast a safe retreat,
I f fate refuse thee aid, t h o u hast a grave.
Old Man. T h e sepulcher will safely hide t h y
son ;
G o hence lest thou shouldst draw t h e m to t h e spot.
Andromache.
O n e ' s fear is lightlier borne when
near at hand,
530
B u t elsewhere will I g o , since t h a t seems best.
Old Man. Stay y e t a while, b u t check t h e
signs of grief;
T h i s way t h e Grecian leader bends his steps.

SCENE

II

Andromachey Ulysses with a retinue of warriors,
withdraws.]

[The old man

Ulysses. Coming a messenger of cruel fate,
I pray you deem not mine the bitter words
535

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

69

I speak, for this is but the general voice
Of all the Greeks, too long from home detained
By Hector's child: him do the fates demand.
The Greeks can hope for but a doubtful peace,
Fear will compel them still to look behind
540
Nor lay aside their armor, while thy child,
Andromache, gives strength to fallen Troy.
So prophesies the god's interpreter;
And had the prophet Calchas held his peace,
Hector had spoken ; Hector and his son
545
I greatly fear: those sprung of noble race
M u s t needs grow great. W i t h proudly lifted
head
A n d haughty neck, the young and hornless bull
Leads the paternal herd and rules the flock;
A n d when t h e tree is cut, the tender stalk
55°
Soon rears itself above the parent t r u n k ,
Shadows the earth, and lifts its boughs to h e a v e n ;
T h e spark mischance has left from some great fire,
Renews its s t r e n g t h ; like these is H e c t o r ' s son.
If well you weigh our act, you will forgive,
555
T h o u g h grief is harsh of j u d g m e n t . W e have
spent
T e n weary winters, ten long harvests spent
I n w a r ; and now, grown old, our soldiers fear,
E v e n from fallen T r o y , some new defeat.
' T i s not a trifling thing that moves the Greeks, 5 60
But a y o u n g H e c t o r ; free them from this fear;
T h i s cause alone holds back our waiting fleet,
T h i s stops the ships. T o o cruel think me not,
Bv lot commanded H e c t o r ' s son to s e e k :

7°

Seneca

Act III

I sought Orestes once; with patience bear
565
What we ourselves have borne.
Andromache.
Alas, m y son,
W o u l d that thou wert within t h y mother's arms !
W o u l d that I knew what fate encompassed thee,
W h a t region holds thee, torn from m y embrace !
A l t h o u g h m y breast were pierced with hostile
spears,
57°
M y hands b o u n d fast with wounding chains, m y
side
By biting flame were girdled, not for this
W o u l d I p u t off m y mother-guardianship !
W h a t spot, what fortune holds thee now, m y son ?
A r t thou a wanderer in an u n k n o w n land,
575
O r have the flames of T r o y devoured thee ?
O r does the conqueror in t h y blood rejoice ?
Or, snatched by some wild beast, perhaps t h o u
liest
O n Ida's summit, food for Ida's birds ?
Ulysses. N o more pretend. T h o u mayst not
so deceive
580
U l y s s e s ; I have power to overcome
A mother's wiles, although she be divine.
P u t by t h y empty p l o t s ; where is t h y son ?
Andromache.
W h e r e is m y H e c t o r ? W h e r e
the Trojan host ?
W h e r e Priam ? T h o u seek'st one, I seek them
all.
585
Ulysses. W h a t thou refusest willingly to tell,
T h o u shalt be forced to say.
Andromache.
She rests secure

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

71

Who can, who ought, nay, who desires to die.
Ulysses. Near death may put an end to such
proud boast.
Andromache. Ulysses, if thou hop'st through
fear to force
590
Andromache to speak, threat longer life;
Death is to me a wished-for messenger.
Ulysses. With fire, scourge, torment, even
death itself,
I will compel thy heart's deep-hidden thought;
Necessity is stronger far than death.
595
Andromache. Threat flames, wounds, hunger,
thirst, the bitter stings
Of cruel grief, all torments, sword plunged deep
Within this bosom, or the prison dark —
Whatever angry, fearful victors may;
Learn that a loving mother knows no fear.
600
Ulysses. And yet this love, in which thou
standst entrenched
So stubbornly, admonishes the Greeks
T o think of their own children. Even now,
After these long ten years, this weary war,
I should fear less the danger Calchas threats, 605
If for myself I feared — but thou prepar'st
War for Telemachus.
Andromache.
Unwillingly
I give the Grecians joy, but I must give.
Ulysses, anguish must confess its pain;
Rejoice, O son of Atreus, carry back
610
A s t h o u art wont, to t h e Pelasgian host
The joyous news : great Hector's son is dead.

72

Seneca

Act III

Ulysses. H o w p r o v e it to t h e Greeks ?
Andromache.
Fall on me else
The greatest ill the victor can inflict:
Fate free me by an easy, timely death,
615
And hide me underneath my native soil!
Lightly on Hector lie his country's earth
As it is true that, hidden from the light,
Deep in the tomb, among the shades he rests.
Ulysses. Accomplished then the fate of Hector's
race;
620
A j o y o u s message of established peace
I take t h e G r e e k s . \He turns to go, then hesitates.
Ulysses, wouldst t h o u so ?
The Greeks have trusted thee, thou trustest —
whom ?
A mother. Would a mother tell this lie
Nor fear the augury of dreaded death ?
625
They fear the auguries, who fear naught else.
She swears it with an oath — yet, falsely sworn,
What has she worse to fear ? Now call to aid
All that thou hast of cunning, stratagem,
And guile, the whole Ulysses; truth dies not. 630
Watch well the mother; see — she mourns, she
weeps,
She groans, turns every way her anxious steps,
Listens with ear attentive; more she fears
Than sorrows; thou hast need of utmost care.
[To Andromache.] For other mothers' loss 'tis
right to grieve ;
635
Thee, wretched one, we must congratulate
That thou hast lost a son whose fate had been

Scene II

v

The Daughters of Troy

73

T o die, hurled headlong from the one high tower
Remaining of the ruined walls of Troy.
Andromache [aside]. Life fails, I faint, I fall,
an icy fear
640
Freezes m y blood.
Ulysses [aside].
She t r e m b l e s ; here the place
F o r m y a t t a c k ; she is betrayed by fear;
Til add worse fear. [To bis followers.
Go quickly ; somewhere lies,
By mother's guile concealed, the hidden foe —
T h e Greeks last enemy of Trojan name.
645
Go, seek him, drag him hither. [After a pause
as though the child were found.]
I t is w e l l ;
The child is taken; hasten, bring him me.
[To Andromache^] Why do you look around and
seem to fear ?
T h e boy is dead.
Andromache.
Would fear were possible !
Long have I feared, and now too late my soul 650
Unlearns its lesson.
Ulysses.
Since by happier fate
Snatched hence, the lad forestalls the sacrifice,
The lustral offering from the walls of Troy
And may not now obey the seer's command,
Thus saith the prophet: this may be atoned, 655
And Grecian ships at last may find return,
If Hector's tomb be leveled with the ground,
His ashes scattered on the sea; the tomb
Must feel my hand, since Hector's child escapes
His destined death.
Andromache [aside]. Alas, what shall I do ? 660

74

Seneca

Act III

A double fear distracts m e ; here my son,
And there my husband's sacred sepulcher,
Which conquers ? O inexorable gods,
0 manes of m y h u s b a n d — m y true g o d ,
Bear w i t n e s s ; in m y son 'tis thee I love,
665
My Hector, and my son shall live to bear
His father's image! Shall the sacred dust
Be cast upon the waves ? Nay, better death.
Canst thou a mother bear to see him die, —
T o see him from Troy's tower downward
hurled ?
670
1 can and will, that Hector, after death,
Be not the victor's sport. The boy may feel
The pain, where death has made the father safe.
Decide, which one shall pay the penalty.
Ungrateful, why in doubt ? Thy Hector's here! 675
'Tis false, each one is Hector; this one lives,
Perchance th' avenger of his father's death.
I cannot save them both, what shall I do ?
Oh, save tire one whom most the Grecians fear!
Ulysses\% I will fulfill the oracle, will raze 680
The tomb to its foundations.
Andromache.
Which ye sold ?
Ulysses. I'll do it, I will level with the dust
T h e sepulcher.
Andromache. I call the faith of heaven,
Achilles' faith, to aid; come, Pyrrhus, save
T h y father's gift.
Ulysses.
T h e t o m b shall instantly 685
Be leveled with t h e plain.
Andromache.
This crime alone

Scene II

The Daughters of Troy

75

The Greeks had shunned; ye've sacked the holy
fanes
Even of favoring gods, ye've spared the tomb.
I will not suffer it, unarmed I'll stand
Against your armored host; rage gives me
strength,
690
A n d as t h e savage A m a z o n opposed
T h e Grecian a r m y , or t h e Maenad wild, .
A r m e d with t h e thyrsus, by t h e g o d possessed,
Wounding herself spreads terror through the
grove,
Herself unpained, IM1 rush into your midst, 695
And in defending the dear ashes die. [She places
herself before the grave.
Ulysses [angrily to the shrinking soldiers.
Why pause ? A woman's wrath and feeble noise
Alarms you so ? Do quickly my command.
[The soldiers go toward the grave,
Andromache throws herself upon them.
Andromache. The sword must first slay me. —
Ah, woe is me,
They drive me back. Hector, come forth the
tomb;

700

Break through the fate's delay, and overwhelm
The Grecian chief—thy shade would be enough!
The weapon clangs and flashes in his hand;
Greeks, see you Hector ? Or do I alone
Perceive him ?
Ulysses.
I will lay it in t h e dust.
7°5
Andromache [aside].
W h a t have I d o n e ? T o
ruin I have brought

76

Seneca

Act III

Father and son together; yet, perchance,
W i t h supplications I may move the Greeks.
T h e tomb's great weight will presently destroy
Its hidden treasure ; O my wretched child,
710
Die wheresoe'er the fates decree, — not here !
O h , may the father not o'erwhelm the son,
T h e son fall not upon his father's d u s t !
[She casts herself at the feet of Ulysses.
Ulysses, at thy feet a suppliant
I fall, and with my right hand clasp thy knees ; 7X5
N e v e r before a suppliant, here I ask
T h y pity on a m o t h e r ; hear m y prayer
W i t h patience; on the fallen, lightly press,
Since thee the gods lift u p to greater heights !
T h e gifts thou grantst the wretched are to fate 720
A hostage; so again thou mayst behold
T h y wife; and old Laertes' years endure
U n t i l once more he see t h e e ; so thy son
Succeed thee and outrun thy fairest hopes
In his good fortune, and his age exceed
725
Laertes', and his gifts o u t n u m b e r thine.
H a v e pity on a mother to whose grief
N a u g h t else remains of comfort.
Ulysses. Bring forth the boy, then thou mayst
ask for grace.
Andromache.
Come hither from thy hidingplace, my son,
73°
T h y wretched mother's lamentable theft.

Scene III

The Daughters of Troy
SCENE

77

III

Ulysses, Andromache, Astyanax.

Andromache. Ulysses, this is he who terrifies
The thousand keels, behold him. Fall, my son,
A suppliant at the feet of this thy lord,
And do him reverence; nor think it base,
735
Since Fortune bids the wretched to submit.
Forget thy royal race, the power of one
Renowned through all the world ; Hector forget;
Act the sad captive on thy bended knee,
And imitate thy mother's tears, if yet
740
T h o u feelest n o t t h y woes. [To Ufysses.']
Troy
saw l o n g since
The weeping of a royal child: the tears
Of youthful Priam turned aside the threats
Of stern Alcides ; he, the warrior fierce
Who tamed wild beasts, who from the shattered
gates ^
745
Of shadowy Dis a hidden, upward path
Opened, was conquered by his young foe's tears.
c
T a k e back,' he said, ' t h e reins of government,
Receive thy father's kingdom, but maintain
T h y scepter with a better faith than he ; '
750
So fared the captives of this conqueror;
Study the gentle wrath of Hercules !
Or do the arms alone of Hercules
Seem pleasing to thee ? Of as noble race
As Priam's, at thy feet a suppliant lies,
755
And asks of thee his life; let fortune give

78

Seneca

Act III

T o whom she will Troy's kingdom.
Ulysses. Indeed the mother's sorrow moves
me much !
Our Grecian mothers' sorrow moves me more,
T o cause whose bane this child would grow a
man.
76°
Andromache. These ruins of a land to ashes
burned
Could he arouse ? Or could these hands build
Troy ?
Troy has no hope, if such is all remains.
We Trojans can no longer cause thee fear.
And has the child his father's spirit ? Yes, 765
But broken. Troy destroyed, his father's self
Had lost that courage which great ills o'ercame.
If vengeance is your wish, what worse revenge
Than to this noble neck to fit the yoke ?
Make him a slave. Who ever yet denied
77°
This bounty to a king ?
Ulysses.
The seer forbids,
'Tis not Ulysses who denies the boon.
Andromache. Artificer of fraud, plotter of guile,
Whose warlike valor never felled a foe;
By the deceit and guile of whose false heart
775
E'en Greeks have fallen, dost thou make pretense
Of blameless god or prophet ? 'Tis the work
Of thine own heart. Thou, who by night mak'st
war,
Now dar'st at last one deed in open day —
A brave boy's death.

Scene III

The Daughters of Troy

79

Ulysses.
My valor to the Greeks 780
Is known, and to the Phrygians too well known.
We may not waste the day in idle talk —
Our ships weigh anchor.
Andromache.
Grant a brief delay,
While I, a mother, for my son perform
The last sad office, satiate my grief,
785
My mother's sorrow, with a last embrace.
Ulysses. I would that I might pity ! What I
may,
Time and delay, I grant thee; let thy tears
Fall freely; weeping ever softens grief.
Andromache. O pledge of love, light of a
fallen house,
790
Last of the Trojan dead, fear of the Greeks,
T h y mother's empty hope, for whom I prayed —
Fool that I was — that thou mightst have the
years
Of Priam, and thy father's warlike soul,
The gods despise my vows; thou ne'er shalt wield
A scepter in the kingly halls of Troy,
796
Mete justice to thy people, nor shalt send
Thy foes beneath thy yoke, nor put to flight
The Greeks, drag Pyrrhus at thy chariot wheels,
Nor ever in thy slender hands bear arms;
800
Nor wilt thou hunt the dwellers in the wood,
Nor on high festival, in Trojan games,
Lead forth the noble band of Trojan youth;
Nor round the altars with swift-moving steps,
That the reechoing of the twisted horn
805
Makes swifter, honor with accustomed dance

8o

Seneca

Act III

The Phrygian temples. Oh, most bitter death !
Ulysses. Great sorrow knows no limit, cease
thy moans !
Andromache. How narrow is the time we seek
for tears!
Grant me a trivial boon : that with these hands 810
His living eyes be bound. My little one,
Thou diest, but feared already by thy foes;
Thy Troy awaits thee; go, in freedom go,
T o meet free Trojans.
Astyanax.
Mother, pity me !
Andromache. Why hold thy mother's hands
and clasp her neck,
815
A n d seek in vain a refuge ? T h e y o u n g bull,
T h u s fearful, seeks his m o t h e r when he hears
The roaring of the lion ; from her side
By the fierce lion driv'n, the tender prey
Is seized, and crushed, and dragged apart; so thee
Thy foeman snatches from thy mother's breast. 821
Child, take my tears, my kisses, my torn locks,
Go to thy father, bear him these few words
Of my complaint: c If still thy spirit keeps
Its former cares, if died not on the flames 825
Thy former love, why leave Andromache
T o serve the Grecians ? Hector, cruel one,
Dost thou lie cold and vanquished in the grave ?
Achilles came again.' Take then these locks,
These tears, for these alone I have to give,
830
Since Hector's death, and take thy mother's
kiss
T o give thy father; leave thy robe for me,

Scene IV

The Daughters of Troy

'

81

Since it has touched his tomb and his dear dust;
I'll search it well so any ashes lurk
Within its folds.
t
Ulysses.
W e e p no more, bear him hence ;
T o o long he stays the sailing of the
fleet.
836

SCENE

IV

Chorus of Trojan Women,

What country calls the captives ? Tempe dark ?
Or the Thessalian hills ? or Phthia's land
Famous for warriors ? Trachin's stony plains,
Breeders of cattle ? or the great sea's queen, 840
lolchos ? or the spacious land of Crete
Boasting its hundred towns ? Gortyna small ?
Or sterile Tricca ? or Mothone crossed
By swift and frequent rivers ? She who lies
Beneath the shadow of the GEtean woods,
845
Whose hostile bowmen came, not once alone,
Against the walls of Troy ?
Or Olenos whose homes lie far apart ?
Or Pleuron, hateful to the virgin god ?
Or Troezen on the ocean's curving shore ?
850
Or Pelion, mounting heavenward, the realm
Of haughty Prothous ? There in a vast cave
Great Chiron, teacher of the savage child,
Struck with his plectrum from the sounding strings
Wild music, stirred the boy with songs of war. 855
Perchance Carystus, for its marbles famed,
Calls u s ; or Chalcis, lying on the coast

82

Seneca

Act III

Of the unquiet sea whose hastening tide
Beats u p the strait; Calydna's wave-swept shore ;
O r stormy Genoessa ; or the isle
860
O f Peparethus near the seaward line

Of Attica ; Enispe smitten oft
By Boreas ; or Eleusis, reverenced
For Ceres' holy, secret mysteries?
Or shall we seek great Ajax' Salamis ?
865
Or Calydon the home of savage beasts ?
Or countries that the Titaressus laves
With its slow waters ? Scarphe, Pylos old,
Or Bessus, Pharis, Pisa, Elis famed
For the Olympian games ?
870
It matters not what tempest drives us hence,
Or to what land it bears us, so we shun
Sparta, the curse alike of Greece and T r o y ;
Nor seek the land of Argos, nor the home
Of cruel Pelops, Neritus hemmed in
875
By narrower limits than Zacynthus small,
Nor threatening cliffs of rocky Ithaca.
O Hecuba, what fate, what land, what lord
Remains for thee ? In whose realm meetst thou
death ?

ACT

IV

SCENE I
Helen, Hecuba, Andromache, Polyxena.

Helen [soliloquizing].
marriage bond

W h a t e v e r sad and joyless
880

Holds slaughter, lamentations, bloody war,
Is worthy Helen. Even to fallen Troy
I bring misfortune, bidden to declare
The bridal that Achilles' son prepares
For his dead father, and demand the robe
885
And Grecian ornaments. By me betrayed,
And by my fraud, must Paris' sister die.
So be it, this were ' ppier lot for her;
A fearless death must be a longed-for death.
Why shrink to do his bidding ? On the head 890
Of him who plots the crime remains the guilt.
[Aloud to Polyxena.

Thou noble daughter of Troy's kingly house,
A milder god on thy misfortune looks,
Prepares for thee a happy marriage day.
Not Priam nor unfallen Troy could give
895
Such bridal, for the brightest ornament
Of the Pelasgian race, the man who holds
The kingdom of the wide Thessalian land,
Would make thee his by lawful marriage bonds.
83

Seneca

84

Act IV

Great Tethys, and the ocean goddesses,
900
And Thetis, gentle nymph of swelling seas,
Will call thee theirs; when thou art Pyrrhus'
bride
Peleus will call thee kin, as Nereus will.
Put off thy robe of mourning, deck thyself
In gay attire; unlearn the captive's mien,
905
And suffer skillful hands to smooth thy hair
Now so unkempt. Perchance fate cast thee down
From thy high place to seat thee higher still;
It may be profit to have been a slave.
Andromache. This one ill only lacked to fallen
Troy:

910

Pleasure, while Pergamus still smoking lies !
Fit hour for marriage ! Dare one then refuse ?
When Helen would persuade, who doubtful weds ?
Thou curse ! Two nations owe to thee their fall!
Seest thou the royal tomb, these bones that lie 915
Unburied, scattered over all the field ?
Thy bridal is the cause. All Asia's blood,
All Europe's flows for thee, whilst thou, unstirred,
Canst see two husbands fighting, nor decide
Which one to wish the victor! Go, prepare 920
The marriage bed; what need of wedding torch
Or nuptial lights, when burning Troy provides
The fires for these new bridals ? Celebrate,
O Trojan women, honor worthily
The marriage feast of Pyrrhus.
Smite your
breasts,
925
A n d weep aloud.
Helen.
Soft comfort is refused

Scene I

The Daughters of Troy

85

By deep despair, which loses reason, hates
The very sharers of its grief. M y cause
I yet may plead before this hostile judge,
Since I have suffered heavier ills than she.
930
Andromache mourns Hector openly,
Hecuba weeps for Priam, I, alone,
In secret, weep for Paris. Is it hard,
Grievous, and hateful to bear servitude ?
For ten long years I bore the captive's yoke. 935
Is Ilium laid low, her household gods
Cast down ? To lose one's land is hard indeed —
T o fear is worse. Your sorrow friendship cheers,
Me conquerors and conquered hate alike.
For thee, there long was doubt whom thou
shouldst serve,
940
M y master drags m e hence without t h e chance
Of lot. Was I the bringer of the war?
Of so great Teucrian carnage ? Think this true
If first a Spartan keel thy waters cut;
But if of Phrygian oars I am the prey,
945
By the victorious goddess as a prize
Given for Paris' j u d g m e n t , pardon me !
A n angry j u d g e awaits me, and m y cause
Is left to Menelaus. W e e p no more,
A n d r o m a c h e , p u t by thy grief. Alas,
95°
H a r d l y can I myself restrain my tears.
Andromache,
H o w great the ill that even
H e l e n weeps !
W h y does she weep ? W h a t trickery or crime
Plots now the Ithacan ? F r o m Ida's t o p ,
O r T r o y ' s high tower, will he cast the maid
955

86

Seneca

Act IV

Upon the rocks ? Or hurl her to the deep
From the great cliff which, from its riven side,
Out of the shallow bay, Sigeon lifts ?
What wouldst thou cover with deceitful face ?
No ill were heavier than this : to see
960
Pyrrhus the son of Priam's Hecuba.
Speak, plainly tell the penalty thou bringst.
Take from defeat at least this evil, — fraud.
Thou seest thou dost not find us loth to die.
Helen. Would that Apollo's prophet bade me
take
965
The long delay of my so hated life;
Or that, upon Achilles' sepulcher,
I might be slain by Pyrrhus' cruel hand,
The sharer of thy fate, Polyxena,
Whom harsh Achilles bids them give to him •—
T o offer to his manes, as his bride
97 1
In the Elysian Fields.
[Polyxena shows great joy> Hecuba sinks fainting to the ground.
Andromache. See with what joy a noble woman
meets
Death-sentence, bids them bring the royal robe,
And fitly deck her hair. She deemed it death 975
T o be the bride of Pyrrhus, but this death
A bridal seems. The wretched mother faints,
Her sinking spirit fails ; unhappy one,
Arise, lift up thy heart, be strong of soul!
Life hangs but by a thread — how slight a thing 980
Glads Hecuba ! She breathes, she lives again,
Death flies the wretched.

Scene I

The Daughters of Troy

87

Hecuba,
Lives Achilles still
T o vex the Trojans ? Still pursues his foes ?
Light was the hand of Paris ; but the tomb
And ashes of Achilles drink our blood.
985
O n c e I was circled b y a h a p p y t h r o n g
O f children, b y their kisses weary m a d e ,
Parted my mother love amongst them all.
She, now, alone is left; for her I pray,
Companion, solace, healer of my grief,
990
The only child of Hecuba, her voice
Alone may call me mother! Bitter life,
Pass from me, slip away, spare this last blow!
Tears overflow my cheeks — a storm of tears
Falls from her eyes!
Andromache,
W e are the ones should
weep,
995
W e , H e c u b a , whom, scattered here and there,
T h e Grecian ships shall carry far away.
T h e maid will find at least a sepulcher
I n the dear soil of her loved native land.
Helen, T h y own lot known, yet more thou'lt
envy hers.
1000
Andromache,
I s a n y portion of m y lot u n known ?
Helen, The fatal urn has given thee a lord.
Andromache. Whom call I master ? Speak,
who bears me hence
A slave ?
Helen. Lot gave thee to the Scyrian king.
Andromache. Happy Cassandra, whom Apollo's
wrath

1005

88

Seneca

Act IV

Spared from such fate!
Helen.
The prince of kings claims her.
Hecuba. Be glad, rejoice, my child ; Andromache
Desires thy bridals, and Cassandra, too,
Desires them. Is there any one would choose
Hecuba for his bride ?
Helen.
Thou fallst a prey IOIO
T o the unwilling Ithacan.
Hecuba.
Alas,
What powerless, cruel, unrelenting god
Gives kings by lot to be the prey of kings ?
What god unfriendly thus divides the spoil ?
What cruel arbiter forbids us choose
1015
Our masters ? With Achilles' arms confounds
Great Hector's mother ?
T o Ulysses' lot!
Conquered and captive am I now indeed,
Besieged by all misfortunes ! 'Tis my lord
Puts me to shame, and not my servitude!
1020
Harsh land and sterile, by rough seas enclosed,
Thou wilt not hold my grave ! Lead on, lead on,
Ulysses, I delay not, I will go —
Will follow thee; my fate will follow me.
No tranquil calm will rest upon the sea;
1025
Wind, war, and flame shall rage upon the deep,
My woes and Priam's ! When these things shall
come,
Respite from punishment shall come to Troy.
Mine is the lot, from thee I snatch the prize!
But see where Pyrrhus comes with hasty steps 1030

Scene II

T h e Daughters of Troy

89

And troubled face. Why pause ? On, Pyrrhus,
on!
Into this troubled bosom drive the sword,
And join to thy Achilles his new kin !
Slayer of aged men, up, here is blood,
1034
Blood worthy of thy sword ; drag off thy spoil,
And with thy hideous slaughter stain the gods —
The gods who sit in heaven and those in hell!
What can I pray for thee ? I pray for seas
Worthy these rites; I pray the thousand ships,
The fleet of the Pelasgians, may meet
1040
Such fate as that I fain would whelm the ship
That bears me hence a captive.

SCENE

II

Chorus. Sweet is a nation's grief to one who
grieves —
Sweet are the lamentations of a land !
1044
T h e sting of tears and grief is less 'when shared
By many; sorrow, cruel in its pain,
Is glad to see its lot by many shared,
T o know that not alone it suffers loss.
None shuns the hapless fate that many bear;
None deems himself forlorn, though truly so, 1050
If none are happy near him. Take away
His riches from the wealthy, take away
The hundred cattle that enrich his soil,
The poor will lift again his lowered head;
'Tis only by comparison man's poor.
1055

9o

Seneca

Act IV

O'erwhelmed in hopeless ruin, it is sweet
T o see none happy. H e deplores his fate
Who, shipwrecked, naked, finds the longed-for
port
Alone. H e bears with calmer mien his fate 1059
Who sees, with his, a thousand vessels wrecked
By the fierce tempest, sees the broken planks
Heaped on the shore, the while the northwest
wind
Drives on the coast, nor he alone returns
A shipwrecked beggar. When the radiant ram,
The gold-fleeced leader of the flock, bore forth
Phryxus and Helle, Phryxus mourned the fall 1066
Of Helle dropped into the Hellespont.
Pyrrha, Deucalion's wife, restrained her tears,
As he did, when they saw the sea, naught else,
And they alone of living men remained.
1070
The Grecian fleet shall scatter far and wide
Our grief and lamentations. When shall sound
The trumpet, bidding spread the sails ? When
dip
The laboring oars, and Troy's shores seem to flee ?
When shall the land grow faint and far, the sea
Expand before, Mount Ida fade behind ?
1076
Then grows our sorrow; then what way Troy lies
Mother and son shall gaze. The son shall say,
Pointing the while, ' There where the curving
line
Of smoke floats, there is Ilium.' By that sign
May Trojans know their country.
1081

ACT V
SCENE I
Hecuba, Andromache, Messenger,

Messenger. O bitter, cruel, lamentable fate!
In these ten years of crime what deed so hard,
So sad, has Mars encountered ? What decree
Of fate shall I lament ? Thy bitter lot,
1085
Andromache ? Or thine, thou aged one ?
Hecuba.
Whatever woe thou mournst is
Hecuba s ;
Their own griefs only others have to bear,
I bear the woes of all, all die through me,
And sorrow follows all who call me friend.
1090
Andromache. Suffering ever loves to tell its
woes,
Tell of the deaths — the tale of double crime;
Speak, tell us all.
Messenger.
One mighty tower remains
Of Troy, no more is left; from this high seat
Priam, the arbiter of war, was wont
1095
T o view his troops; and in this tower he sat
And, in caressing arms, embraced the son
Of Hector, when that hero put to flight
With fire and sword the trembling, conquered
Greeks.
From thence he showed the child its father's deeds.
91

9

2

Seneca

Act V

This tower, the former glory of our walls,
noi
Is now a lonely, ruined mass of rock;
Thither the throng of chiefs and people flock;
From the deserted ships the Grecian host
Come pouring; on the hills some find a place, 1105
Some on the rising cliffs, upon whose top
They stand tiptoe ; some climb the pines, and
birch,
And laurel, till beneath the gathered crowd
The whole wood trembles; some have found the
peaks
Of broken crags ; some climb a swaying roof, mo
Or toppling turret of the falling wall;
And some, rude lookers-on, mount Hector's
tomb.
Through all the crowded space, with haughty
mien,
Passes the Ithacan, and by the hand
Leads Priam's grandson; nor with tardy step 1115
Does the young hero mount the lofty wall.
Standing upon the top, with fearless heart
H e turns his eagle glance from side to side.
As the young, tender cub of some wild beast,
Not able yet to raven with its teeth,
1120
Bites harmlessly, a n d p r o u d l y feels himself
A l i o n ; so this brave a n d fearless child,
Holding the right hand of his enemy,
Moves host and leaders and Ulysses' self.
H e only does not weep for whom all weep, 1125
But while the Ithacan begins the words
Of the prophetic message and the prayers

Scene I

The Daughters of Troy

93

T o the stern gods, he leaps into the midst
Of his and Priam's kingdom, willingly.
Andromache. Was ever such a deed by Colchians done,
113°
O r wandering Scythians, or the lawless race
T h a t dwells beside the Caspian ? N e v e r yet
H a s children's blood Busiris' altars stained,
N o r Diomedes feasted his fierce steeds
O n children's limbs ! W h o took t h y body u p ,
M y son, a n d bore it to the sepulcher ?
1136
Messenger. What would that headlong leap
have left ? His bones
Lie dashed in pieces by the heavy fall,
His face and noble form, inheritance
From his illustrious father, are with earth
1140
Commingled; broken is his neck; his head
Is dashed in pieces on the cruel stones
So that the brains gush forth; his body lies
Devoid of form.
Andromache.
Like Hector, too, in this.
Messenger. When from the wall the boy was
headlong cast
1145
And the Achaians wept the crime they did,
Then turned these same Achaians to new crimes,
And to Achilles' tomb. With quiet flow
The Rhoetean waters beat the further side,
And opposite the tomb the level plain
1150
Slopes gently upward, and surrounds the place
Like a wide amphitheater; here the strand
Is thronged with lookers-on, who think to end
With this last death their vessels' long delay,

Seneca

94

Act V

And glad themselves to think the foeman's seed
At last cut off. The fickle, common crowd 1156
Look coldly o n ; the most part hate the crime.
T h e Trojans haste with no less eagerness
T o their own funeral rites, and, pale with fear,
Behold the final fall of ruined Troy.
1160
As at a marriage, suddenly they bring
The bridal torches ; Helen goes before,
Attendant to the bride, with sad head bent.
c
So may the daughter of Hermione
Be wed/ the Phrygians pray, c base Helen find
Again her husband/ Terror seizes both
1166
The awe-struck peoples. With her glance cast
down,
Modestly comes the victim; but her cheeks
Glow, and her beauty shines unwontedly;
So shines the light of Phoebus gloriously
1170
Before his setting, when the stars return
And day is darkened by approaching night.
The throng is silenced; all men praise the maid
Who now must die : some praise her lovely form,
H e r tender age moves some, and some lament
The fickleness of fortune; every one
1176
Is touched at heart by her courageous soul,
Her scorn of death. She comes, by Pyrrhus
led;
All wonder, tremble, pity; when the hill
Is reached, and on his father's grave advanced,
The young king stands, the noble maid shrinks
not,

But waits unflinchingly the fatal blow.

1181

Scene I

T h e Daughters of Troy

95

H e r unquelled spirit moves the hearts of all;
And — a new prodigy — Pyrrhus is slow
At slaughter; but at length, with steady hand,
H e buries to the hilt the gleaming sword
1186
W i t h i n her breast; the life-blood gushes forth
F r o m t h e deep w o u n d ; in death as heretofore
H e r soul is s t r o n g ; with angry t h u d she falls
A s she would make the earth a heavy load 1190
U p o n Achilles' breast. Both armies weep ;
T h e Trojans offer only feeble m o a n s ;
T h e victors m o u r n more freely. So was made
T h e sacrifice; her blood lay n o t for long
U p o n the soil, nor flowed away; t h e t o m b 1195
D r a n k cruelly t h e gore.
Hecuba.
Go, conquering Greeks,
Securely seek your homes; with all sail set,
Your fleet may safely skim the longed-for sea.
T h e lad and maid are dead, the war is done!
Where can I hide my woe, where lay aside
1200
The long delay of the slow-passing years ?
Whom shall I weep ? my husband, grandson,
child,
Or country ? Mourn the living or the dead ?
O longed-for death, with violence dost thou
come
T o babes and maidens, but thou fleest from me!
Through long night sought, mid fire, and swords,
and spears,
1206
Why fly me ? Not the foe, nor ruined home,
Nor flame could slay me, though so near I stood
T o Priam !

96

Seneca
Messenger.
camp.

Act V

[Taltbybius, coming from the Greek

Captive women, seek with speed
The sea; the sails are filled, the vessels move. 1210