Chapter XXXVII: Act II

_Talthybius:_ Alas, 'tis thus the Greeks are ever doomed
To lie impatient of the winds' delay,
Whether on war or homeward journey bent. 165

_Chorus:_ Tell thou the cause of this the Greeks' delay.
What god obstructs the homeward-leading paths?

_Talthybius:_ My soul doth quake, and all my limbs with fear
Do tremble. Scarce is credence given to tales
That do transcend the truth. And yet I swear,
With my own eyes I saw what I relate.
Now with his level rays the morning sun 170
Just grazed the summits of the hills, and day
Had vanquished night; when suddenly the earth,
'Mid rumblings hidden deep and terrible,
To her profoundest depths convulsive rocked.
The tree-tops trembled, and the lofty groves
Gave forth a thunderous sound of crashing boughs;
While down from Ida's rent and rugged slopes 175
The loosened bowlders rolled. And not alone
The earth did quake: behold, the swelling sea
Perceived its own Achilles drawing near,
And spread its waves abroad. Then did the ground
Asunder yawn, revealing mighty caves,
And gave a path from Erebus to earth.
And then the high-heaped sepulcher was rent, 180
From which there sprang Achilles' mighty shade,
In guise as when, in practice for thy fates,
O Troy, he prostrate laid the Thracian arms,
Or slew the son of Neptune, doomed to wear
The swan's white plumes; or when, amidst the ranks
In furious battle raging, he the streams 185
Did choke with corpses of the slain, and Xanthus
Crept sluggishly along with bloody waves;
Or when he stood as victor in his car,
Plying the reins and dragging in the dust
Great Hector's body and the Trojan state.
So there he stood and filled the spreading shore 190
With wrathful words: "Go, get you gone, ye race
Of weaklings, bear away the honors due
My manes; loose your thankless ships, and sail
Across my seas. By no slight offering
Did ye aforetime stay Achilles' wrath;
And now a greater shall ye pay. Behold,
Polyxena, once pledged to me in life, 195
Must by the hand of Pyrrhus to my shade
Be led, and with her blood my tomb bedew."
So spake Achilles and the realms of day
He left for night profound, reseeking Dis;
And as he plunged within the depths of earth,
The yawning chasm closed and left no trace.
The sea lies tranquil, motionless; the wind
Its boisterous threats abates, and where but now 200
The storm-tossed waters raged in angry mood,
The gentle waves lap harmless on the shore;
While from afar the band of Tritons sounds
The marriage chorus of their kindred lord.

[_Exit._]

[_Enter_ Pyrrhus _and_ Agamemnon.]

_Pyrrhus:_ Now that you homeward fare, and on the sea
Your joyful sails would spread, my noble sire
Is quite forgot, though by his single hand
Was mighty Troy o'erthrown; for, though his death 205
Some respite granted to the stricken town,
She stood but as some sorely smitten tree,
That sways uncertain, choosing where to fall.
Though even now ye seek to make amends
For your neglect, and haste to grant the thing
He asks, 'tis but a tardy recompense.
Long since, the other chieftains of the Greeks
Have gained their just reward. What lesser prize
Should his great valor claim? Or is it naught 210
That, though his mother bade him shun the war,
And spend his life in long, inglorious ease,
Surpassing even Pylian Nestor's years,
He cast his mother's shamming garments off,
Confessing him the hero that he was?
When Telephus, in pride of royal power, 215
Forbade our progress through his kingdom's bounds,
He stained with royal blood the untried hand
That young Achilles raised. Yet once again
He felt that selfsame hand in mercy laid
Upon his wound to heal him of its smart.
Then did Eëtion, smitten sore, behold
His city taken and his realm o'erthrown;
By equal fortune fell Lyrnessus' walls, 220
For safety perched upon a ridgy height,
Whence came that captive maid, Briseïs fair;
And Chrysa, too, lies low, the destined cause
Of royal strife; and Tenedos, and the land
Which on its spreading pastures feeds the flocks 225
Of Thracian shepherds, Scyros; Lesbos too,
Upon whose rocky shore the sea in twain
Is cleft; and Cilla, which Apollo loved.
All these my father took, and eke the towns
Whose walls Caÿcus with his vernal flood
Doth wash against. This widespread overthrow
Of tribes, this fearful and destructive scourge,
That swept through many towns with whirlwind power-- 230
This had been glory and the height of fame
For other chiefs; 'twas but an incident
In great Achilles' journey to the war.
So came my father and such wars he waged
While but preparing war. And though I pass
In silence all his other merits, still
Would mighty Hector's death be praise enough. 235
My father conquered Troy; the lesser task
Of pillage and destruction is your own.
'Tis pleasant thus to laud my noble sire
And all his glorious deeds pass in review:
Before his father's eyes did Hector lie,
Of life despoiled; and Memnon, swarthy son
Of bright Aurora, goddess of the dawn,
For whose untimely death his mother's face
Was sicklied o'er with grief, while day was veiled 240
In darkness. When the heaven-born Memnon fell,
Achilles trembled at his victory;
For in that fall he learned the bitter truth
That even sons of goddesses may die.
Then, 'mongst our latest foes, the Amazons,
Fierce maidens, felt my father's deadly power.
So, if thou rightly estimate his deeds,
Thou ow'st Achilles all that he can ask,
E'en though he seek from Argos or Mycenae 245
Some high-born maid. And dost thou hesitate
And haggle now, inventing scruples new,
And deem it barbarous to sacrifice
This captive maid of Troy to Peleus' son?
But yet for Helen's sake didst thou devote
Thy daughter to the sacrificial knife.
I make in this no new or strange request,
But only urge a customary rite.

_Agamemnon:_ 'Tis the common fault of youth to have no check 250
On passion's force; while others feel alone
The sweeping rush of this first fire of youth,
His father's spirit urges Pyrrhus on.
I once endured unmoved the blustering threats
Of proud Achilles, swoll'n with power; and now,
My patience is sufficient still to bear
His son's abuse. Why do you seek to smirch 255
With cruel murder the illustrious shade
Of that famed chief? 'Tis fitting first to learn
Within what bounds the victor may command,
The vanquished suffer. Never has for long
Unbridled power been able to endure,
But lasting sway the self-controlled enjoy.
The higher fortune raises human hopes, 260
The more should fortune's favorite control
His vaulting pride, and tremble as he views
The changing fates of life, and fear the gods
Who have uplifted him above his mates.
By my own course of conquest have I learned
That mighty kings can straightway come to naught.
Should Troy o'erthrown exalt us overmuch?
Behold, we stand today whence she has fallen. 265
I own that in the past too haughtily
Have I my sway o'er fallen chieftains borne;
But thought of fortune's gift has checked my pride,
Since she unto another might have given
These selfsame gifts. O fallen king of Troy,
Thou mak'st me proud of conquest over thee,
Thou mak'st me fear that I may share thy fate. 270
Why should I count the scepter anything
But empty honor and a tinsel show?
This scepter one short hour can take away,
Without the aid, perchance, of countless ships
And ten long years of war. The steps of fate
Do not for all advance with pace so slow. 275
For me, I will confess ('tis with thy grace,
O land of Greece, I speak) I have desired
To see the pride and power of Troy brought low;
But that her walls and homes should be o'erthrown
In utter ruin have I never wished.
But a wrathful foe, by greedy passion driven,
And heated by the glow of victory,
Within the shrouding darkness of the night, 280
Cannot be held in check. If any act
Upon that fatal night unworthy seemed
Or cruel, 'twas the deed of heedless wrath,
And darkness which is ever fury's spur,
And the victorious sword, whose lust for blood,
When once in blood imbued, is limitless.
Since Troy has lost her all, seek not to grasp 285
The last poor fragments that remain. Enough,
And more has she endured of punishment.
But that a maid of royal birth should fall
An offering upon Achilles' tomb,
Bedewing his harsh ashes with her blood,
While that foul murder gains the honored name
Of wedlock, I shall not permit. On me
The blame of all will come; for he who sin 290
Forbids not when he can, commits the sin.

_Pyrrhus:_ Shall no reward Achilles' shade obtain?

_Agamemnon:_ Yea, truly; all the Greeks shall sing his praise,
And unknown lands shall hear his mighty name.
But if his shade demand a sacrifice 295
Of out-poured blood, go take our richest flocks,
And shed their blood upon thy father's tomb;
But let no mother's tears pollute the rite.
What barbarous custom this, that living man
Should to the dead be slain in sacrifice?
Then spare thy father's name the hate and scorn
Which by such cruel worship it must gain. 300

_Pyrrhus:_ Thou, swoll'n with pride so long as happy fate
Uplifts thy soul, but weak and spent with fear
When fortune frowns; O hateful king of kings,
Is now thy heart once more with sudden love
Of this new maid inflamed? Shalt thou alone
So often bear away my father's spoils? 305
By this right hand he shall receive his own.
And if thou dost refuse, and keep the maid,
A greater victim will I slay, and one
More worthy Pyrrhus' gift; for all too long
From royal slaughter hath my hand been free,
And Priam asks an equal sacrifice. 310

_Agamemnon:_ Far be it from my wish to dim the praise
That thou dost claim for this most glorious deed--
Old Priam slain by thy barbaric sword,
Thy father's suppliant.

_Pyrrhus:_ I know full well
My father's suppliants--and well I know
His enemies. Yet royal Priam came,
And made his plea before my father's face; 315
But thou, o'ercome with fear, not brave enough
Thyself to make request, within thy tent
Didst trembling hide, and thy desires consign
To braver men, that they might plead for thee.

_Agamemnon:_ But, of a truth, no fear thy father felt;
But while our Greece lay bleeding, and her ships
With hostile fire were threatened, there he lay
Supine and thoughtless of his warlike arms, 320
And idly strumming on his tuneful lyre.

_Pyrrhus:_ Then mighty Hector, scornful of thy arms,
Yet felt such wholesome fear of that same lyre,
That our Thessalian ships were left in peace.

_Agamemnon:_ An equal peace did Hector's father find
When he betook him to Achilles' ships. 325

_Pyrrhus:_ 'Tis regal thus to spare a kingly life.

_Agamemnon:_ Why then didst thou a kingly life despoil?

_Pyrrhus:_ But mercy oft doth offer death for life.

_Agamemnon:_ Doth mercy now demand a maiden's blood? 330

_Pyrrhus:_ Canst _thou_ proclaim such sacrifice a sin?

_Agamemnon:_ A king must love his country more than child.

_Pyrrhus:_ No law the wretched captive's life doth spare.

_Agamemnon:_ What law forbids not, this let shame forbid.

_Pyrrhus:_ 'Tis victor's right to do whate'er he will. 335

_Agamemnon:_ Then should he will the least who most can do.

_Pyrrhus:_ Dost thou boast thus, from whose tyrannic reign
Of ten long years but now the Greeks I freed?

_Agamemnon:_ Such airs from Scyros!

_Pyrrhus:_ Thence no brother's blood.

_Agamemnon:_ Hemmed by the sea!

_Pyrrhus:_ Yet that same sea is ours. 340
But as for Pelops' house, I know it well.

_Agamemnon:_ Thou base-born son of maiden's secret sin,
And young Achilles, scarce of man's estate--

_Pyrrhus:_ Yea, that Achilles who, by right of birth,
Claims equal sovereignty of triple realms: 345
His mother rules the sea, to Aeacus
The shades submit, to mighty Jove the heavens.

_Agamemnon:_ Yet that Achilles lies by Paris slain!

_Pyrrhus:_ But by Apollo's aid, who aimed the dart;
For no god dared to meet him face to face.

_Agamemnon:_ I could have checked thy words, and curbed thy tongue,
Too bold in evil speech; but this my sword 350
Knows how to spare. But rather let them call
The prophet Calchas, who the will of heaven
Can tell. If fate demands the maid, I yield.
[_Enter_ Calchas.]
Thou who from bonds didst loose the Grecian ships,
And bring to end the slow delays of war;
Who by thy mystic art canst open heaven,
And read with vision clear the awful truths
Which sacrificial viscera proclaim;
To whom the thunder's roll, the long, bright trail 355
Of stars that flash across the sky, reveal
The hidden things of fate; whose every word
Is uttered at a heavy cost to me:
What is the will of heaven, O Calchas; speak,
And rule us with the mastery of fate.

_Calchas:_ The Greeks must pay th' accustomed price to death, 360
Ere on the homeward seas they take their way.
The maiden must be slaughtered on the tomb
Of great Achilles. Thus the rite perform:
As Grecian maidens are in marriage led
By other hands unto the bridegroom's home,
So Pyrrhus to his father's shade must lead
His promised bride. 365
But not this cause alone
Delays our ships: a nobler blood than thine,
Polyxena, is due unto the fates;
For from yon lofty tower must Hector's son,
Astyanax, be hurled to certain death.
Then shall our vessels hasten to the sea,
And fill the waters with their thousand sails. 370

[_Exeunt._]

_Chorus:_ When in the tomb the dead is laid,
When the last rites of love are paid;
When eyes no more behold the light,
Closed in the sleep of endless night;
Survives there aught, can we believe?
Or does an idle tale deceive? 375
What boots it, then, to yield the breath
A willing sacrifice to death,
If still we gain no dreamless peace,
And find from living no release?
Say, do we, dying, end all pain?
Does no least part of us remain?
When from this perishable clay
The flitting breath has sped away;
Does then the soul that dissolution share
And vanish into elemental air? 380
Whate'er the morning sunbeam knows,
Whate'er his setting rays disclose;
Whate'er is bathed by Ocean wide,
In ebbing or in flowing tide:
Time all shall snatch with hungry greed,
With mythic Pegasean speed. 385
Swift is the course of stars in flight,
Swiftly the moon repairs her light;
Swiftly the changing seasons go,
While time speeds on with endless flow:
But than all these, with speed more swift,
Toward fated nothingness we drift. 390
For when within the tomb we're laid,
No soul remains, no hov'ring shade.
Like curling smoke, like clouds before the blast,
This animating spirit soon has passed. 395
Since naught remains, and death is naught
But life's last goal, so swiftly sought;
Let those who cling to life abate
Their fond desires, and yield to fate;
And those who fear death's fabled gloom,
Bury their cares within the tomb.
Soon shall grim time and yawning night
In their vast depths engulf us quite; 400
Impartial death demands the whole--
The body slays nor spares the soul.
Dark Taenara and Pluto fell,
And Cerberus, grim guard of hell--
All these but empty rumors seem, 405
The pictures of a troubled dream.
Where then will the departed spirit dwell?
Let those who never came to being tell.