Chapter XLII: Act II

_Clytemnestra:_ Why, sluggish soul, dost thou safe counsel seek?
Why hesitate? Closed is the better way.
Once thou couldst chastely guard thy widowed couch, 110
And keep thy husband's realm with wifely faith;
But now, long since has faith thy palace fled,
The homely virtues, honor, piety,
And chastity, which goes, but ne'er returns.
Loose be thy reins, swift speed thy wanton course;
The safest way through crime is by the path 115
Of greater crime. Consider in thy heart
All woman's wiles, what faithless wives have done,
Bereft of reason, blind and passion-driven;
What bloody deeds stepmother's hands have dared;
Or what she dared, ablaze with impious love,
Who left her father's realm for Thessaly: 120
Dare sword, dare poison; else in stealthy flight
Must thou go hence with him who shares thy guilt.
But who would talk of stealth, of exile, flight?
Such were thy sister's deeds: some greater crime,
Some mightier deed of evil suits thy hand.

_Nurse:_ O Grecian queen, illustrious Leda's child, 125
What say'st thou there in whispered mutterings?
Or what unbridled deeds within thy breast,
By reckless passion tossed, dost meditate?
Though thou be silent, yet thy face declares
Thy hidden pain in speech more eloquent.
Whate'er thy grief, take time and room for thought.
Time often cures what reason cannot heal. 130

_Clytemnestra:_ Too dire my grief to wait time's healing hand.
My very soul is scorched with flaming pains:
I feel the goads of fear and jealous rage,
The throbbing pulse of hate, the pangs of love,
Base love that presses hard his heavy yoke 135
Upon my heart, and holds me vanquished quite.
And always, 'mid those flames that vex my soul,
Though faint indeed, and downcast, all undone,
Shame struggles on. By shifting seas I'm tossed:
As when here wind, there tide impels the deep,
The waves stand halting 'twixt the warring powers. 140
And so I'll strive no more to guide my bark.
Where wrath, where grief, where hope shall bear me on,
There will I speed my course; my helmless ship
I've giv'n to be the sport of winds and floods.
Where reason fails 'tis best to follow chance.

_Nurse:_ Oh, rash and blind, who follows doubtful chance. 145

_Clytemnestra:_ Who fears a doubtful chance, if 'tis his last?

_Nurse:_ Thy fault may find safe hiding if thou wilt.

_Clytemnestra:_ Nay, faults of royal homes proclaim themselves.

_Nurse:_ Dost thou repent the old, yet plan the new?

_Clytemnestra:_ To stop midway in sin is foolishness. 150

_Nurse:_ His fears increase, who covers crime with crime.

_Clytemnestra:_ But iron and fire oft aid the healer's art.

_Nurse:_ Yet desperate measures no one first attempts.

_Clytemnestra:_ The path of sin is headlong from the first.

_Nurse:_ Still let thy wifely duty hold thee back. 155

_Clytemnestra:_ What long-deserted wife regards her lord?

_Nurse:_ Your common children--hast no thought of them?

_Clytemnestra:_ I do think on my daughter's wedding rites,
High-born Achilles, and my husband's lies.

_Nurse:_ She freed our Grecian fleet from long delay, 160
And waked from their dull calm the sluggish seas.

_Clytemnestra:_ Oh, shameful thought! that I, the heaven-born child
Of Tyndarus, should give my daughter up
To save the Grecian fleet! I see once more
In memory my daughter's wedding day,
Which _he_ made worthy of base Pelops' house, 165
When, with his pious face, this father stood
Before the altar fires--Oh, monstrous rites!
E'en Calchas shuddered at his own dread words
And backward-shrinking fires. O bloody house,
That ever wades through crime to other crime!
With blood we soothe the winds, with blood we war. 170

_Nurse:_ Yet by that blood a thousand vessels sailed.

_Clytemnestra:_ But not with favoring omens did they sail;
The port of Aulis fairly drave them forth.
So launched in war, he still no better fared.
Smit with a captive's love, unmoved by prayer, 175
He held as spoil the child of Phoebus' priest,
E'en then, as now, a sacred maiden's thrall.
Nor could the stern Achilles bend his will,
Nor he whose eye alone can read the fates
(A faithful seer to us, to captives mild), 180
Nor his pest-smitten camp and gleaming pyres.
When baffled Greece stood tottering to her fall,
This man with passion pined, had time for love,
Thought ever on amours; and, lest his couch
Should be of any Phrygian maid bereft, 185
He lusted for Achilles' beauteous bride,
Nor blushed to tear her from her lover's arms.
Fit foe for Paris! Now new wounds he feels,
And burns, inflamed by mad Cassandra's love.
And, now that Troy is conquered, home he comes, 190
A captive's husband, Priam's son-in-law!
Arise, my soul; no easy task essay;
Be swift to act. What dost thou, sluggish, wait
Till Phrygian rivals wrest thy power away?
Or do thy virgin daughters stay thy hand, 195
Or yet Orestes, image of his sire?
Nay, 'tis for these thy children thou must act,
Lest greater ills befall them; for, behold,
A mad stepmother soon shall call them hers.
Through thine own heart, if so thou must, prepare
To drive the sword, and so slay two in one. 200
Let thy blood flow with his; in slaying, die.
For death is sweet if with a foeman shared.

_Nurse:_ My queen, restrain thyself, check thy wild wrath,
And think how great thy task. Atrides comes
Wild Asia's conqueror and Europe's lord; 205
He leads Troy captive, Phrygia subdued.
'Gainst him wouldst thou with sly assault prevail,
Whom great Achilles slew not with his sword,
Though he with angry hand the weapon drew;
Nor Telamonian Ajax, crazed with rage; 210
Nor Hector, Troy's sole prop and war's delay;
Nor Paris' deadly darts; nor Memnon black;
Nor Xanthus, choked with corpses and with arms;
Nor Simois' waves, empurpled with the slain;
Nor Cycnus, snowy offspring of the sea; 215
Nor warlike Rhesus with his Thracian band;
Nor that fierce maid who led the Amazons,
Armed with the deadly battle-axe and shield?
This hero, home returned, dost thou prepare
To slay, and stain thy hearth with impious blood?
Would Greece, all hot from conquest, suffer this? 220
Bethink thee of the countless steeds and arms,
The sea a-bristle with a thousand ships,
The plains of Ilium soaked with streams of blood,
Troy taken and in utter ruin laid:
Remember this, I say, and check thy wrath,
And bid thy thoughts in safer channels run. 225

[_Exit._]

[_Enter_ Aegisthus.]

_Aegisthus:_ The fatal day which I was born to see,
Toward which I've ever looked with dread, is here.
Why dost thou fear, my soul, to face thy fate,
And turn away from action scarce begun?
Be sure that not thy hand is ordering
These dire events, but the relentless gods. 230
Then put thy shame-bought life in pawn to fate
And let thy heart drain suffering to the dregs.
To one of shameful birth death is a boon.
[_Enter_ Clytemnestra.]
Thou comrade of my perils, Leda's child,
Be with me still in this; and thy false lord, 235
This valiant sire, shall pay thee blood for blood.
But why does pallor blanch thy trembling cheeks?
What bodes this softened face, this listless gaze?

_Clytemnestra:_ My husband's love has met and conquered me.
Let us retrace our steps, while still there's room, 240
To that estate whence we should ne'er have come;
Let even now fair fame be sought again;
For never is it over late to mend.
Who grieves for sin is counted innocent.

_Aegisthus:_ What madness this? Dost thou believe or hope
That Agamemnon will be true to thee? 245
Though no grave fears, of conscious guilt begot,
Annoyed thy soul with thoughts of punishment;
Still would his swelling, o'er-inflated pride,
Create in him a dour and headstrong mood.
Harsh was he to his friends while Troy still stood;
How, think'st thou, has the fall of Troy pricked on 250
His soul, by nature harsh, to greater harshness?
Mycenae's king he went; he will return
Her tyrant. So doth fortune foster pride.
With how great pomp this throng of rivals comes!
But one of these, surpassing all the rest,
Apollo's priestess, holds the king in thrall. 255
And wilt thou meekly share thy lord with her?
But she will not. A wife's last infamy--
To see her rival ruling in her stead.
No throne nor bed can brook a rival mate.

_Clytemnestra:_ Aegisthus, why dost drive me headlong on, 260
And fan to flames again my dying wrath?
For if the victor has his right employed,
To work his will upon a captive maid,
His wife should not complain or reck of this.
The law that binds the man fits not the king.
And why should I, myself in conscious guilt, 265
Make bold to sit in judgment on my lord?
Let her forgive who most forgiveness needs.

_Aegisthus:_ In very truth there's room for mutual grace.
But thou know'st naught of royal privilege.
Thee will the king judge harshly, to himself 270
A milder law in gentler mood apply.
And this they deem the highest pledge of power,
If, what to common mortals is denied,
Is given by general will to them alone.

_Clytemnestra:_ He pardoned Helen; home is she returned,
To Menelaüs joined, though East and West
Have been engulfed for her in common woe.

_Aegisthus:_ But Menelaüs nursed no secret love, 275
Which closed his heart unto his lawful wife.
Thy lord seeks charge against thee, cause of strife.
Suppose thy heart and life were free from guilt:
What boots an honest life, a stainless heart,
When hate condemns the suppliant unheard? 280
Wilt thou seek Sparta's shelter, and return
Unto thy father's house? No shelter waits
The scorned of kings; that hope were false indeed.

_Clytemnestra:_ None knows my sin save one most faithful friend.

_Aegisthus:_ In vain: no faith is found in royal courts. 285

_Clytemnestra:_ But surely gifts will buy fidelity.

_Aegisthus:_ Faith bought by gifts is sold for other gifts.

_Clytemnestra:_ My strength and purity of soul revive.
Why wouldst thou thwart me? Why, with cozening words,
Wouldst thou persuade me to thy evil course? 290
Dost think that I would leave a king of kings
And stoop to wed an outcast wretch like thee?

_Aegisthus:_ What? seem I less than Atreus' son to thee,
Who am Thyestes' son?

_Clytemnestra:_ Why, so thou art,
And grandson too.

_Aegisthus:_ My getting shames me not;
For Phoebus' self is voucher for my birth.

_Clytemnestra:_ Name Phoebus not with thine incestuous stock, 295
Who checked his flying steeds and fled the sky,
Withdrawn in sudden night, lest he behold
Thy father's feast. Wouldst thou besmirch the gods,
Thou, trained to revel in unlawful love?
Then get thee gone in haste, and rid mine eyes 300
Of that which doth disgrace this noble house;
This home is waiting for its king and lord.

_Aegisthus:_ Exile is naught to me, for I am used
To woe. At thy command I'll farther flee
Than from this house: I but await thy word
To plunge my dagger in this woeful breast. 305

_Clytemnestra_ [_aside_]: Shall I in cruel scorn desert him now?
Who sin in company should suffer so.
[_To_ Aegisthus.]
Nay, come with me; we will together wait
The issue of our dark and dangerous fate.

[_Exeunt into the palace._]

_Chorus:_[51] Sing Phoebus' praise, O race renowned; 310
With festal laurel wreathe your heads;
And let your virgin locks flow free,
Ye Argive maids.
And ye who drink of the cold Erasinus,
Who dwell by Eurotas, 315
Who know the green banks of the silent Ismenus
Come join in our singing;
And do ye swell our chorus, ye far Theban daughters,
Whom the child of Tiresias, Manto the seer,
Once taught to bow down to the Delian gods. 320
Now peace has come:
Unbend thy victorious bow, O Apollo,
Lay down from thy shoulder thy quiver of arrows,
And let thy tuneful lyre resound
To the touch of thy swift-flying fingers. 325
No lofty strain be thine today,
But such as on thy milder lyre
Thou art wont to sound when the learnéd muse
Surveys thy sports.
And yet, an' thou wilt, strike a heavier strain, 330
As when thou didst sing of the Titans o'ercome
By Jupiter's hurtling bolts;
When mountain on lofty mountain piled,
Pelion, Ossa, and pine-clad Olympus,
Built high to the sky for the impious monsters 335
Their ladder's rocky rounds.
Thou too be with us, Juno, queen,
Who sharest the throne of heaven's lord. 340
Mycenae's altars blaze for thee.
Thou alone dost protect us,
Anxious and suppliant;
Thou art the goddess of peace,
And the issues of war are thine; 345
And thine are the laurels of victory twined
On the brow of our king Agamemnon.
To thee the boxwood flute resounds
In solemn festival;
To thee the maidens strike the harp 350
In sweetest song;
To thee the votive torch is tossed;
The gleaming heifer, all unmarred
By the plow's rough touch
Falls at thy shrine. 355
And thou, child of the Thunderer,
Pallas illustrious, hear;
Before whose might the Dardanian walls
Have trembled and fallen to dust.
Thee maidens and matrons in chorus united 360
Exalt and adore; at thy approach
Thy temple doors swing open wide,
While the welcoming throng, with garlands bedecked,
Rejoice at thy coming;
And feeble, tottering elders come
To pay their vows of thanks and praise, 365
And pour their offerings of wine
With trembling hands.
And to thee with mindful lips we pray,
Bright Trivia, Lucina called.
Thy native Delos didst thou bid
Stand fast upon the sea, and float 370
No more, the wandering mock of winds.
And now, with firmly fixéd root,
It stands secure, defies the gale,
And, wont of old to follow ships,
Now gives them anchorage.
Proud Niobe thy vengeance felt 375
Who thy divinity defied.
Now, high on lonely Sipylus,
She sits and weeps in stony grief;
Though to insensate marble turned,
Her tears flow fresh forevermore.
And now both men and women join 380
In praise to the twin divinities.
But thee, above all gods, we praise;
Our father and our ruler thou,
Lord of the hurtling thunderbolt,
At whose dread nod the farthest poles
Do quake and tremble.
O Jove, thou founder of our race, 385
Accept our gifts, and have regard
Unto thy faithful progeny.
But lo, a warrior hither comes in haste,
With wonted signs of victory displayed;
For on his spear a laurel wreath he bears-- 390
Eurybates, our king's own messenger.

FOOTNOTES:

[51] The line arrangement of Schroeder has been followed in this Chorus.