THE EUMENIDES
Scene.—In front of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.
The Pythoness.
Old Earth, primeval prophetess, I first
With these my prayers invoke; and Themis[n1] next,
Who doth her mother’s throne and temple both
Inherit, as the legend runs; and third
In lot’s due course, another Earth-born maid
The unforced homage of the land received,
Titanian Phœbe;[f5] she in natal gift
With her own name her hoary right bequeathed
To Phœbus: he from rocky Delos’ lake[n2]
To Attica’s ship-cruised bays was wafted, whence
He in Parnassus fixed his sure abode.
Hither with pious escort they attend him:
The Sons of Vulcan pioneer his path,[n3]
Smoothing the rugged desert where he comes:
The thronging people own him, and king Delphos,
The land’s high helmsman, flings his portals wide.
Jove with divinest skill his heart inspires,
And now the fourth on this dread seat enthroned
Sits Loxias,[f6] prophet of his father Jove.[n4]
These be the gods, whom chiefly I invoke:
But thee, likewise, who ’fore this temple dwellest,[n5]
Pallas, I pray, and you, ye Nymphs that love
The hollow Corycian rock,[n6] the frequent haunt
Of pleasant birds, the home of awful gods.
Thee, Bromius, too, I worship,[n7] not unweeting
How, led by thee, the furious Thyads rushed
To seize the godless Pentheus,[n8] ev’n as a hare
Is dogged to death. And you, the fountains pure
Of Pleistus,[f7] and Poseidon’s[f8] mighty power[n9]
I pray, and Jove most high, that crowns all things
With consummation. These the gods that lead me
To the prophetic seat, and may they grant me
Best-omened entrance; may consulting Greeks,
If any be, by custom’d lot approach;
For as the gods my bosom stir, I pour
The fateful answer.
[She goes into the Temple, but suddenly returns.
O horrid tale to tell! O sight to see
Most horrible! that drives me from the halls
Of Loxias, so that I nor stand nor run,
But, like a beast fourfooted stumble on,
Losing the gait and station of my kind,
A gray-haired woman, weaker than a child![n10]
Up to the garlanded recess I walked,
And on the navel-stone[f9] behold! a man
With crime polluted to the altar clinging,
And in his bloody hand he held a sword
Dripping with recent murder, and a branch
Of breezy olive, with flocks of fleecy wool
All nicely tipt. Even thus I saw the man;
And stretched before him an unearthly host
Of strangest women, on the sacred seats
Sleeping—not women, but a Gorgon brood,
And worse than Gorgons, or the ravenous crew
That filched the feast of Phineus[n11] (such I’ve seen
In painted terror); but these are wingless, black,
Incarnate horrors, and with breathings dire
Snort unapproachable, and from their eyes
Pestiferous beads of poison they distil.
Such uncouth sisterhood, apparel’d so,[n12]
From all affinity of gods or men
Divorced, from me and from the gods be far,
And from all human homes! Nor can the land,
That lends these unblest hags a home, remain
Uncursed by fearful scourges. But the god,
Thrice-potent Loxias himself will ward
His holiest shrine from lawless outrage. Him
Physician, prophet, soothsayer, we call,
Cleansing from guilt the blood-polluted hall. [Exit.
[The interior of the Delphic Temple is now presented to view. Orestes is seen clinging to the navel-stone; the Eumenides lie sleeping on the seats around. In the background Hermes beside Orestes. Enter Apollo.
Apollo.
(to Orestes)
Trust me, I’ll not betray thee. Far or near,
Thy guardian I, and to thine every foe
No gentle god. Thy madded persecutors
Sleep-captured lie: the hideous host is bound.
Primeval virgins, hoary maids, with whom
Nor god, nor man, nor beast hath known communion.
For evil’s sake they are: in evil depth
Of rayless Tartarus, underneath the ground,
They dwell, of men and of Olympian gods
Abhorred. But hence! nor faint thy heart, though they
Are mighty to pursue from land to land
O’er measureless tracks, from rolling sea to sea,
And sea-swept cities. A bitter pasture truly
Was thine from Fate;[n13] but bear all stoutly. Hie thee
Away to Pallas’ city, and embrace
Her ancient image[n14] with close-clinging arms.
Just Judges there we will appoint to judge
Thy cause, and with soft-soothing pleas will pluck
The sting from thy offence, and free thee quite
From all thy troubles. Thou know’st that I, the god,
When thou didst strike, myself the blow directed.
Orestes.
Liege lord Apollo, justice to the gods
Belongs; in justice, O remember me.
Thy power divine assurance gives that thou
Can’st make thy will a deed.
Apollo.
Fear nought. Trust me.
[To Hermes] And thou, true brother’s blood, true father’s son,
Hermes, attend, and to this mission gird thee.
Fulfil the happy omen of thy name,
The Guide,[f10] and guide this suppliant on his way.
For Jove respects thy function and thy pride,
The prosperous convoy, and the faithful guide.
[Exit Hermes, leading Orestes. Apollo retires.
Enter the Shade of Clytemnestra.
Clytemnestra.
Sleeping? All sleeping! Ho! What need of sleepers?
While I roam restless, of my fellow-dead
Dishonoured and reproached, by fault of you,
That when I slew swift vengeance overtook me.
But being slain myself, my avengers sleep
And leave my cause to drift! Hear me, sleepers!
Such taunts I bear, such contumelious gibes,
Yet not one god is touched with wrath to avenge
My death, who died by matricidal hands.
Behold these wounds![n15] look through thy sleep, and see!
Read with thy heart; some things the soul may scan
More clearly, when the sensuous lid hath dropt,
Nor garish day confounds.[n16] Full oft have ye
Of my libations sipped the wineless streams,
The soothing? of my sober sacrifice,
The silent supper from the solemn altar,
At midnight hour when only ye are worshipped.
But now all this beneath your feet lies trampled.
The man is gone; fled like a hind! he snaps
The meshes of your toils, and makes—O shame!
Your Deity a mark for scoffers’ eyes
To wink at! Hear me, ye infernal hags,
Unhoused from hell! For my soul’s peace I plead,
Once Clytemnestra famous, now a dream.[n17]
[The Chorus moans.
Ye moan! the while the man hath fled, and seeks
For help from those that are no friends to me.[n18]
[The Chorus moans again.
Sleep-bound art thou. Hast thou no bowels for me?
My Furies sleep, and let my murderer flee.
[The Chorus groans.
Groaning and sleeping! Up! What work hast thou
To do, but thine own work of sorrow? Rouse thee!
[The Chorus groans again.
Sleep and fatigue have sworn a league to bind
The fearful dragon with strong mastery.
Chorus.
(with redoubled groans and shrill cries)
Hold! seize him! seize him! seize there! there! there! hold!
Clytemnestra.
Thy dream scents blood; and, like a dog that doth
In dreams pursue the chase, even so dost thou
At phantasms bark and howl. To work! to work!
Let not fatigue o’ermaster thus thy strength,
Nor slumber soothe the sense of sharpest wrong.
Torture thy liver with reproachful thoughts;
Reproaches are the pricks that goad the wise.
Up! blow a blast of bloody breath behind him!
Dry up his marrow with the fiery vengeance!
Follow! give chase! pursue him to the death!
Chorus,[n19] starting up in hurry and confusion.
Voice 1.
Awake! awake! rouse her as I rouse thee!
Voice 2.
Dost sleep? arise! dash drowsy sleep away!
Brave dreams be prelude to brave deed! Ho, sisters!
STROPHE I.
Voice 1.
Shame, sisters, shame!
Insult and injury!
Shame, O shame!
Voice 2.
Shame on me, too: a bootless, fruitless shame!
Voice 1.
Insult and injury,
Sorrow and shame!
Burden unbearable,
Shame! O shame!
Voice 2.
The snare hath sprung: flown is the goodly game.
Voice 3.
I slept, and when sleeping
He sprang from my keeping;
Shame, O shame!
ANTISTROPHE I.
Voice 1.
O son of Jove, in sooth,
If thou wilt hear the truth,
Robber’s thy name!
Voice 2.
Thou being young dost overleap the old.[n20]
Voice 1.
A suppliant, godless,
And bloodstained, I see,
And bitter to parents,
Harboured by thee.
Voice 2.
Apollo’s shrine a mother-murderer’s hold!
Voice 3.
Apollo rewardeth
Whom Justice discardeth,
And robber’s his name!
STROPHE II.
Voice 1.
A voice of reproach
Came through my sleeping,
Like a charioteer
With his swift lash sweeping.
Voice 2.
Thorough my heart,
Thorough my liver,
Keen as the cold ice
Shot through the river.
Voice 3.
Harsh as the headsman,
Ruthless exacter,
When tearless he scourges
The doomed malefactor.
ANTISTROPHE II.
Voice 1.
All blushless and bold
The gods that are younger
Would rule o’er the old,
With the right of the stronger.
Voice 2.
The Earth’s navel-stone
So holy reputed,
All gouted with blood,
With fresh murder polluted,
Behold, O behold!
Voice 3.
By the fault of the younger,
The holiest holy
Is holy no longer.
STROPHE III.
Voice 1.
Thyself thy hearth with this pollution stained,
Thyself, a prophet, free and unconstrained.
Voice 2.
O’er the laws of the gods
Thou hast recklessly ridden,
Dispensing to men
Gifts to mortals forbidden;
Voice 3.
Us thou hast reft
Of our name and our glory,
Us and the Fates,
The primeval, the hoary.
ANTISTROPHE III.
Voice 1.
I hate the god. Though underneath the ground
He hide my prey, there, too, he shall be found.
Voice 2.
I at each shrine
Where the mortal shall bend him,
Will jealously watch,
That no god may defend him.
Voice 3.
Go where he will,
A blood-guilty ranger,
Hotly will hound him still
I, the Avenger!
Apollo.
Begone! I charge thee, leave these sacred halls!
From this prophetic cell avaunt! lest thou
A feathered serpent in thy breast receive,
Shot from my golden bow; and, inly pained,
Thou vomit forth black froth of murdered men,
Belching the clotted slaughter by thy maw
Insatiate sucked. These halls suit not for thee;
But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms,[n21]
Abortions, butcheries, barrenness abound,
Where mutilations, flayings, torturings,
Make wretches groan, on pointed stakes impaled,
There fix your seats; there hold the horrid feasts,
In which your savage hearts exultant revel,
Of gods abominate—maids whose features foul
Speak your foul tempers plainly. Find a home
In some grim lion’s den sanguinolent, not
In holy temples which your breath pollutes.
Depart, ye sheep unshepherded, whom none
Of all the gods may own!
Chorus.
Liege lord, Apollo,
Ours now to speak, and thine to hear: thyself
Not aided only, but the single cause
Wert thou of all thou blamest.
Apollo.
How so? Speak!
Chorus.
Thine was the voice that bade him kill his mother.
Apollo.
Mine was the voice bade him avenge his father.
Chorus.
All reeking red with gore thou didst receive him.
Apollo.
Not uninvited to these halls he came.
Chorus.
And we come with him. Wheresoe’er he goes,
His convoy we. Our function is to follow.
Apollo.
Follow! but from this holy threshold keep
Unholy feet.
Chorus.
We, where we must go, go
By virtue of our office.
Apollo.
A goodly vaunt!
Your office what?
Chorus.
From hearth and home we chase
All mother-murderers.
Apollo.
She was murdered here,
That murdered first her husband.[n22]
Chorus.
Yet should she
By her own body’s fruitage have been slain?
Apollo.
Thus speaking, ye mispraise the sacred rites
Of matrimonial Hera[n23] and of Jove,
Unvalued make fair Aphrodite’s grace,
Whence dearest joys to mortal man descend.
The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated,[n24]
Hath obligation stronger than an oath,
And Justice guards it. Ye who watch our crimes,
If that loose reins to nuptial sins ye yield,
Offend, and grossly. If the murtherous wife
Escape your sharp-set vengeance, how can ye
Pursue Orestes justly? I can read
No even judgment in your partial scales,
In this more wrathful, and in that more mild.
She who is wise shall judge between us, Pallas.
Chorus.
The man is mine already. I will keep him.
Apollo.
He’s gone; and thou’lt but waste thy toil to follow.
Chorus.
Thy words shall not be swords, to cut my honors.
Apollo.
Crowned with such honors, I would tear them from me!
Chorus.
A mighty god beside thy father’s throne
Art thou, Apollo. Me this mother’s blood
Goads on to hound this culprit to his doom.
Apollo.
And I will help this man, champion and save him,
My suppliant, my client; should I not,
Both gods and men would brand the treachery.
[The scene changes to the Temple of Pallas in Athens. A considerable interval of time is supposed to have elapsed between the two parts of the Play.
Enter Orestes.
Orestes.
Athena queen, at Loxias’ hest I come.
Receive the suppliant with propitious grace.
Not now polluted, nor unwashed from guilt
I cling to the first altar; time hath mellowed
My hue of crime, and friendly men receive
The curse-beladen wanderer to their homes.
True to the god’s oracular command,
O’er land and sea with weary foot I fare,
To find thy shrine, O goddess, and clasp thine image;
And now redemption from thy doom I wait.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
’Tis well. The man is here. His track I know.
The sure advisal of our voiceless guide
Follow; as hound a wounded stag pursues,
We track the blood, and snuff the coming death.
Soothly we pant, with life-outwearying toils
Sore overburdened! O’er the wide sea far
I came, and with my wingless flight outstripped
The couriers of the deep. Here he must lie,
In some pent corner skulking. In my nostrils
The scent of mortal blood doth laugh me welcome.
Chorus.[n25]
Voice 1.
Look, sisters, look!
Voice 2.
On the right, on the left, and round about,
Search every nook!
Voice 3.
Warily watch him,
The blood-guilty ranger,
That Fraud may not snatch him,
From me the Avenger!
Voice 1.
At the shrine of the goddess,
He bendeth him lowly,
Embracing her image,
The ancient the holy.
Voice 2.
With hands crimson-reeking,
He clingeth profanely,
A free pardon seeking
From Pallas—how vainly!
Voice 3.
For blood, when it floweth,
For once and for ever
It sinks, and it knoweth
To mount again never.
Voice 1.
Thou shalt pay me with pain;
From thy heart, from thy liver
I will suck, I will drain
Thy life’s crimson river.
Voice 2.
The cup from thy veins
I will quaff it, how rarely!
I will wither thy brains,
Thou shalt pine late and early.
Voice 3.
I will drag thee alive,
For thy guilt matricidal,
To the dens of the damned,
For thy lasting abidal.
EPODE.
Tutti.
There imprisoned thou shalt see
All who living sinned with thee,
’Gainst the gods whom men revere,
’Gainst honoured guest, or parents dear;
All the guilty who inherited
Woe, even as their guilt had merited.
For Hades,[f11] in his halls of gloom,
With a justly portioned doom,
Binds them down securely:
All the crimes of human kind,
In the tablet of his mind,
He hath graven surely.
Orestes.
By manifold ills I have been taught to know
All expiations; and the time to speak
I know, and to be silent. In this matter
As a wise master taught me, so my tongue
Shapes utterance. The curse that bound me sleeps,
My harsh-grained guilt is finer worn, the deep
Ensanguined stain washed to a softer hue;
Still reeking fresh with gore, on Phœbus’ hearth,
The blood of swine hath now wrought my lustration,[f12]
And I have held communings with my kind
Once and again unharming. Time, that smooths
All things, hath smoothed the front of my offence.
With unpolluted lips I now implore
Thy aid, Athena, of this land the queen.
Myself, a firm ally, I pledge to thee,
Myself, the Argive people, and their land,
Thy bloodless prize. And whether distant far
On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools,[n26]
Thy natal flood, with forward foot firm planted,
Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated,[n27]
Thy friends thou aidest, or with practised eye
The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields
Thou musterest[n28]—come!—for gods can hear from far—
And from these woes complete deliverance send!
Chorus.
Not all Apollo’s, all Athena’s power
Shall aid thee. Thou, of gods and men forsook,
Shalt pine and dwindle, stranger to the name
Of joy, a wasted shadow, bloodless sucked
To fatten wrathful gods. Thou dost not speak,
But, as a thing devoted, standest dumb,
My prey, even mine! my living banquet thou,
My fireless victim. List, and thou shalt hear
My song, that binds thee with its viewless chain.
Chorus.
Deftly, deftly weave the dance!
Sisters lift the dismal strain!
Sing the Furies, justly dealing
Dooms deserved to guilty mortals;
Deftly, deftly lift the strain!
Whoso lifted hands untainted
Him no Furies’ wrath shall follow,
He shall live unharmed by me;
But who sinned, as this offender,
Hiding foul ensanguined hands,
We with him are present, bearing
Unhired witness for the dead;
We will tread his heels, exacting
Blood for blood, even to the end.
CHORAL HYMN.[n29]
STROPHE I.
Mother Night that bore me,
A scourge, to go before thee,
To scourge, with stripes delightless,
The seeing and the sightless,[n30]
Hear me, I implore thee,
O Mother Night!
Mother Night that bore me,
The son of Leto o’er me
Rough rides, in thy despite.
From me, the just pursuer,
He shields the evil-doer,
The son to me devoted,
For mother-murder noted,
He claims against the right.
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise!
Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,[n31]
That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise,
The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
ANTISTROPHE I.
Mother Night that bore me,
The Fate that was before me,
This portion gave me surely,
This lot for mine securely,
To bear the scourge before thee,
O Mother Night!
And, in embrace untender
To hold the red offender,
That sinned in gods’ despite,
And wheresoe’er he wend him,
His keepers close we tend him.
In living or in dying,
From us there is no flying,
The daughters of the Night.
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise!
Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,
That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise,
The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
STROPHE II.
From primal ages hoary,
This lot, our pride and glory,
Appointed was to us;
To Hades’ gloomy portal,
To chase the guilty mortal,
But from Olympians, reigning
In lucid seats,[f13] abstaining;
Their nectared feasts we taste not,
Their sun-white robes invest not
The maids of Erebus.
But, with scourge and with ban,
We prostrate the man,
Who with smooth-woven wile,
And a fair-faced smile,
Hath planted a snare for his friend;
Though fleet, we shall find him,
Though strong, we shall bind him,
Who planted a snare for his friend.
ANTISTROPHE II.
This work of labour earnest,[n32]
This task severest, sternest,
Let none remove from us.
To all their due we render,
Each deeply-marked offender
Our searching eye reproveth,
Though blissful Jove removeth,
From his Olympian glory,
Abhorr’d of all and gory,
The maids of Erebus.
But, swift as the wind,
We follow and find,
Till he stumbles apace,
Who had hoped in the race,
To escape from the grasp of the Furies!
And we trample him low,
Till he writhe in his woe,
Who had fled from the chase of the Furies.
STROPHE III.
The thoughts heaven-scaling
Of men haughty-hearted,
At our breath, unavailing
Like smoke they departed.
Our jealous foot hearing,
They stumble before us,
And bite the ground, fearing
Our dark-vested chorus.
ANTISTROPHE III.
They fall, and perceive not
The foe that hath found them;
They are blind and believe not,
Thick darkness hath bound them.
From the halls of the fated,
A many-voiced wailing
Of sorrow unsated
Ascends unavailing.
STROPHE IV.
For the Furies work readily
Vengeance unsparing,
Surely and steadily
Ruin preparing.
Dark crimes strictly noted,
Sure-memoried they store them;
And, judgment once voted,
Prayers vainly implore them.
For they know no communion
With the bright-throned union
Of the gods of the day;
Where the living appear not,
Where the pale Shades near not,
In regions delightless,
All sunless and sightless,
They dwell far away.
ANTISTROPHE IV.
What mortal reveres not
Our deity awful?
When he names us, who fears not
To work deeds unlawful?
From times hoary-dated,
This statute for ever
Divinely was fated;
Time takes from it never.
For dishonour we bear not,
Though the bright thrones we share not
With the gods of the day.
Our right hoary-dated
We claim unabated,
Though we dwell, where delightless
No sun cheers the sightless,
’Neath the ground far away.
Enter Athena.
Athena.
The cry that called me from Scamander’s banks[n33]
I heard afar, even as I hied to claim
The land for mine which the Achæan chiefs
Assigned me, root and branch, my portion fair
Of the conquered roods, a goodly heritage
To Theseus’ sons. Thence, with unwearied foot,
I journeyed here by these high-mettled steeds
Car-borne, my wingless ægis in the gale
Full-bosomed whirring. And now, who are ye,
A strange assembly, though I fear you not,
Here gathered at my gates? I speak to both,
To thee the stranger, that with suppliant arms
Enclasps my statue—Whence art thou? And you,
Like to no generation seed-begotten,
Like to no goddess ever known of gods,
Like to no breathing forms of mortal kind;
But to reproach with contumelious phrase
Who wrong not us, nor courtesy allows,
Nor Themis wills. Whence are ye?
Chorus.
Daughter of Jove,
’Tis shortly said: of the most ancient Night
The tristful daughters we, and our dread name,
Even from the fearful Curse we bear, we borrow.[f14]
Athena.
I know you, and the dreaded name ye bear.
Chorus.
Our sacred office, too—
Athena.
That I would hear.
Chorus.
The guilty murderer from his home we hunt.
Athena.
And the hot chase, where ends it?
Chorus.
There, where joy
Is never named.
Athena.
And is this man the quarry,
That, with hoarse-throated whoop, thou now pursuest?
Chorus.
He slew his mother—dared the worst of crimes.
Athena.
What mightier fear, what strong necessity
Spurred him to this?
Chorus.
What fear so strong that it
Should prompt a mother’s murder?
Athena.
There are two parties. Only one hath spoken.
Chorus.
He’ll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.[n34]
Athena.
The show of justice, not fair Justice self,
Thou lovest.
Chorus.
How? Speak—thou so rich in wisdom.
Athena.
Oaths are no proof, to make the wrong the right.
Chorus.
Prove thou. A true and righteous judgment judge.
Athena.
I shall be judge, betwixt this man and thee
To speak the doom.
Chorus.
Even thou. Thy worthy deeds
Give thee the worth in this high strife to judge.
Athena.
Now, stranger, ’tis thy part to speak. Whence come,
Thy lineage what, and what thy fortunes, say,
And then refute this charge against thee brought.
For well I note the sacredness about thee,
That marks the suppliant who atonement seeks,
In old Ixíon’s guise;[n35] and thou hast fled
For refuge, to my holy altar clinging.
Answer me this, and plainly tell thy tale.
Orestes.
Sovran Athena, first from these last words
A cause of much concernment be removed.
I seek for no atonement; no pollution
Cleaves to thy sacred image from my touch.
Of this receive a proof. Thou know’st a murderer
Being unatoned a voiceless penance bears,
Till, from the hand of friendly man, the blood
Of a young beast from lusty veins hath sprent him,
Cleansing from guiltiness. These sacred rites
Have been performed: the blood of beasts hath sprent me,
The lucent lymph hath purged the filthy stain.
For this enough. As for my race, I am
An Argive born: and for my father, he
Was Agamemnon, king of men, by whom
The chosen admiral of the masted fleet,
The ancient city of famous Priam thou
Didst sheer uncity.[n36] Sad was his return;
For, with dark-bosomed guile, my mother killed him,
Snared in the meshes of a tangled net,
And of the bloody deed the bath was witness.
I then, returning to my father’s house
After long exile—I confess the deed—
Slew her who bore me, a dear father’s murder
With murder quitting. The blame—what blame may be—
I share with Loxias, who fore-augured griefs
To goad my heart if, by my fault, such guilt
Should go unpunished. I have spoken. Thou
What I have done, if justly or unjustly,
Decide. Thy doom, howe’er it fall, contents me.
Athena.
In this high cause to judge, no mortal man
May venture; nor may I divide the law
Of right and wrong, in such keen strife of blood.
For thee, in that thou comest to my halls,[n37]
In holy preparation perfected,
A pure and harmless suppliant, I, as pledged
Already thy protector, may not judge thee.
For these, ’tis no light thing to slight their office.
For, should I send them hence uncrowned with triumph,
Dripping fell poison from their wrathful breasts,
They’d leave a noisome pestilence in the land
Behind them. Thus both ways I’m sore perplexed;
Absent or present, they do bring a curse.
But since this business needs a swift decision,
Sworn judges I’ll appoint, and they shall judge
Of blood in every age. Your testimonies
And proofs meanwhile, and all that clears the truth,
Provide. Myself, to try this weighty cause,
My choicest citizens will choose, and bind them
By solemn oath to judge a righteous judgment.
CHORAL HYMN.[n38]
STROPHE I.
Ancient rights and hoary uses
Now shall yield to young abuses,
Right and wrong together chime,
If the vote
Fail to note
Mother-murder for a crime.
Murder now, made nimble-handed,
Wide shall rage without control;
Sons against their parents banded
Deeds abhorred
With the sword
Now shall work, while ages roll.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Now no more, o’er deeds unlawful,
Shall the sleeping Mænads[f15] awful
Watch, with jealous eyes to scan;
Free and chainless,
Wild and reinless,
Stalks o’er Earth each murtherous plan.
Friend to friend his loss deploreth,
Lawless rapine, treacherous wound,
But in vain his plaint he poureth;
To his bruises
Earth refuses
Balm; no balm on Earth is found.
STROPHE II.
Now no more, from grief’s prostration,
Cries and groans
Heaven shall scale with invocation—
“Justice hear my supplication,
Hear me, Furies, from your thrones!”
From the recent sorrow bleeding,
Father thus or mother calls,
Vainly with a piteous pleading,
For the House of Justice falls.
ANTISTROPHE II.
Blest the man in whose heart reigneth
Holy Fear;
Fear his heart severely traineth;
Blest, from troublous woe who gaineth
Ripest fruits of wisdom clear;[f16]
But who sports, a careless liver,[n39]
In the sunshine’s flaunting show,
Holy Justice, he shall never
Thy severest virtue know.
STROPHE III.
Lordless life, or despot-ridden,
Be they both from me forbidden.
To the wise mean strength is given,[n40]
Thus the gods have ruled in heaven;
Gods, that gently or severely
Judge, discerning all things clearly.
Mark my word, I tell thee truly,
Pride, that lifts itself unduly,[n41]
Had a godless heart for sire.
Healthy-minded moderation
Wins the wealthy consummation,
Every heart’s desire.
ANTISTROPHE III.
Yet, again, I tell thee truly,
At Justice’ altar bend thee duly.
Wean thine eye from lawless yearning
After gain; with godless spurning
Smite not thou that shrine most holy.
Punishment, that travels slowly,
Comes at last, when least thou fearest.
Yet, once more; with truth sincerest,
Love thy parents and revere,
And the guest, that to protect him,
Claims thy guardian roof, respect him,
With an holy fear.[f17]
STROPHE IV.
Whoso, with no forced endeavour,
Sin-eschewing liveth,
Him to hopeless ruin never
Jove the Saviour giveth.
But whose hand, with greed rapacious,
Draggeth all things for his prey,
He shall strike his flag audacious,
When the god-sent storm shall bray,
Winged with fate at last;
When the stayless sail is flapping,
When the sail-yard swings, and, snapping,
Crashes to the blast.
ANTISTROPHE IV.
He shall call, but none shall hear him,
When dark ocean surges;
None with saving hand shall near him,
When his prayer he urges.
Laughs the god, to see him vainly
Grasping at the crested rock;
Fool, who boasted once profanely
Firm to stand in Fortune’s shock;
Who so great had been
His freighted wealth with fearful crashing,
On the rock of Justice dashing,
Dies, unwept, unseen.
Enter Athena, behind a Herald.
Athena.
Herald, proclaim the diet, and command
The people to attention; with strong breath
Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice,[n42]
To speak shrill-throated to the assembled throngs;
And, while the judges take their solemn seats,
In hushed submission, let the city hear
My laws that shall endure for aye; and these,
In hushed submission, wait the righteous doom.
Enter Apollo.[n43]
Chorus.
Sovran Apollo, rule where thou art lord;
But here what business brings the prophet? Speak.
Apollo.
I come a witness of the truth; this man
Is suppliant to me, he on my hearth
Found refuge, him I purified from blood.
I, too, am patron of his cause, I share
The blame, if blame there be, in that he slew
His mother. Pallas, order thou the trial.
Athena.
(to the Furies)
Speak ye the first, ’tis wiseliest ordered thus,
That, who complains, his plaint set forth in order,
Point after point, articulately clear.
Chorus.
Though we be many, yet our words are few.
Answer thou singly, as we singly ask;
This first—art thou the murderer of thy mother?
Orestes.
I did the deed. This fact hath no denial.
Chorus.
Once worsted! With three fits I gain the trial.
Orestes.
Boast, when thou seest me fall. As yet I stand.
Chorus.
This answer now—how didst thou do the deed.
Orestes.
Thus; with my pointed dagger, in the neck
I smote her.
Chorus.
Who the bloody deed advised?
Orestes.
The god of oracles. Here he stands to witness.
Chorus.
Commanding murder with prophetic nod?
Orestes.
Ay! and even now I do not blame the god.
Chorus.
Soon, soon, thou’lt blame him, when the pebble drops
Into the urn of justice with thy doom.
Orestes.
My murdered sire will aid me from the tomb.
Chorus.
Trust in the dead; in thy dead mother trust.
Orestes.
She died, with two foul blots well marked for vengeance.
Chorus.
How so? This let the judges understand.
Orestes.
The hand that killed her husband killed my father.
Chorus.
If she for her crimes died, why livest thou?
Orestes.
If her thou didst not vex, why vex me now?
Chorus.
She slew a man, but not of kindred blood.
Orestes.
Is the son’s blood all to the mother kin,
None to the father?
Chorus.
Peace, thou sin-stained monster!
Dost thou abjure the dearest blood, the mother’s
That bore thee ’neath her zone?
Orestes.
(to Apollo)
Be witness thou.
Apollo, speak for me, if by the rule
Of Justice she was murdered. That the deed
Was done, and by these hands, I not deny;
If justly or unjustly blood was spilt,
Thou knowest. Teach me how to make reply.
Apollo.
I speak to you, Athena’s mighty council;
And what I speak is truth: the prophet lies not.
From my oracular seat was published never
To man, to woman, or to city aught
By my Olympian sire unfathered.[f18] Ye
How Justice sways the scale will wisely weigh;
But this remember—what my father wills
Is law. Jove’s will is stronger than an oath.
Chorus.
Jove, say’st thou, touched thy tongue with inspiration,
To teach Orestes that he might avenge
A father’s death by murdering a mother?
Apollo.
His was no common father—Agamemnon,
Honoured the kingly sceptre god-bestowed
To bear—he slain by a weak woman, not
By furious Amazon with far-darting bow,
But in such wise as I shall now set forth
To thee, Athena, and to these that sit
On this grave bench of judgment. Him returning
All prosperous from the wars, with fairest welcome
She hailed her lord, and in the freshening bath
Bestowed him; there, ev’n while he laved, she came
Spreading death’s mantle out, and, in a web
Of curious craft entangled, stabbed him. Such
Was the sad fate of this most kingly man,
Of all revered, the fleet’s high admiral.
A tale it is to prick your heart with pity,
Even yours that seal the judgment.
Chorus.
Jove, thou sayest,
Prefers the father: yet himself did bind
With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.[n44]
Make this with that to square, and thou art wise.
Ye judges, mark me, if I reason well.
Apollo.
O odious monsters, of all gods abhorred!
A chain made fast may be untied again.
This ill hath many cures; but, when the dust
Hath once drunk blood, no power can raise it. Jove
Himself doth know no charm to disenchant
Death; other things he turns both up and down,
At his good pleasure, fainting not in strength.
Chorus.
Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.
How shall this man, who spilt his mother’s blood,
Dwell in his father’s halls at Argos? How
Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How
With any clanship share lustration?[n45]
Apollo.
This
Likewise I’ll answer. Mark me! whom we call
The mother begets not;[n46] she is but the nurse,
Whose fostering breast the new-sown seed receives.
The father truly gets; the dam but cherishes
A stranger-bud, that, if the gods be kind,
May blossom soon, and bear. Behold a proof!
Without a mother may a child be born,
Not so without a father. Which to witness
Here is this daughter of Olympian Jove,
Not nursed in darkness, in the womb, and yet
She stands a goddess, heavenly mother ne’er
Bore greater. Pallas, here I plight my faith
To magnify thy city and thy people;
And I this suppliant to thy hearth hath sent,
Thy faithful ally ever. May the league
Here sworn to-day their children’s children bind!
Athena.
Now judges, as your judgment is, I charge you,
So vote the doom. Words we have had enough.
Chorus.
Our quiver’s emptied. We await the doom.
Athena.
How should the sentence fall to keep me free
Of your displeasure?
Chorus.
What we said we said.
Even as your heart informs you, nothing fearing,
So judges justly vote, the oath revering.
Athena.
Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians![n47] Ye,
In this first strife of blood, umpires elect,
While age on age shall roll, the sons of Aegeus
This Council shall revere. Here, on this hill,
The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore,[n48]
What time with Theseus striving, they their tents
Against these high-towered infant walls uptowered.
To Mars they sacrificed, and, to this day,
This Mars’ Hill speaks their story. Here, Athenians,
Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,
That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess,
A place apart, so long as fickle change
Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this
Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye
Shall draw the draught in vain. From anarchy
And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance
Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls
All high authority; for where no fear
Awful remains, what mortal will be just?
This holy reverence use, and ye possess
A bulwark, and a safeguard of the land,
Such as no race of mortals vaunteth, far
In Borean Scythia, or the land of Pelops.[f19]
This council I appoint intact to stand
From gain, a venerated conclave, quick
In pointed indignation, when all sleep
A sleepless watch. These words of warning hear,
My citizens for ever. Now ye judges
Rise, take your pebbles, and by vote decide,
The sacred oath revering. I have spoken.
[The Aeropagites advance; and, as each puts his pebble into the urn, the Chorus and Apollo alternately address them as follows:
Chorus.
I warn ye well: the sisterhood beware,
Whose wrath hangs heavier than the land may bear.
Apollo.
I warn ye well: Jove is my father; fear
To turn to nought the words of me, his seer.
Chorus.
If thou dost plead, where thou hast no vocation,
For blood, will men respect thy divination?
Apollo.
Must then my father share thy condemnation,
When first he heard Ixion’s supplication?
Chorus.
Thou say’st.[n49] But I, if justice be denied me,
Will sorely smite the land that so defied me.
Apollo.
Among the gods the elder, and the younger,
Thou hast no favour; I shall prove the stronger.
Chorus.
Such were thy deeds in Pheres’ house,[n50] deceiving
The Fates, and mortal men from death reprieving.
Apollo.
Was it a crime to help a host? to lend
A friendly hand to raise a sinking friend?
Chorus.
Thou the primeval Power didst undermine,
Mocking the hoary goddesses with wine.
Apollo.
Soon, very soon, when I the cause shall gain,
Thou’lt spit thy venom on the ground in vain.
Chorus.
Thou being young, dost jeer my ancient years
With youthful insolence; till the doom appears,
I’ll patient wait; my hot-spurred wrath I’ll stay,
And even-poised betwixt two tempers sway.
Athena.
My part remains; and I this crowning pebble
Drop to Orestes; for I never knew
The mother’s womb that bore me.[f20] I give honor,
Save in my virgin nature, to the male
In all things; all my father lives in me.[n51]
Not blameless be the wife, who dared to slay
Her husband, lord and ruler of her home.
My voice is for Orestes; though the votes
Fall equal from the urn, my voice shall save him.
Now shake the urn, to whom this duty falls,
And tell the votes.
Orestes.
O Phœbus, how shall end
This doubtful issue?
Chorus.
O dark Night, my mother,
Behold these things!
Orestes.
One moment blinds me quite,
Or to a blaze of glory opes my eyes.
Chorus.
We sink to shame, or to more honor rise.
Apollo.[n52]
Judges, count well the pebbles as they fall,
And with just jealousy divide them. One
Being falsely counted works no simple harm.
One little pebble saves a mighty house.
Athena.
Hear now the doom. This man from blood is free.
The votes are equal; he escapes by me.
Orestes.
O Pallas, Saviour of my father’s house,
Restorer of the exile’s hope, Athena,
I praise thee! Now belike some Greek will say,
The Argive man revisiteth the homes
And fortunes of his father, by the aid
Of Pallas, Loxias, and Jove the Saviour
All-perfecting, who pled the father’s cause,
Fronting the wrathful Furies of the mother!
I now depart: and to this land I leave,
And to this people, through all future time,
An oath behind me, that no lord of Argos
Shall ever brandish the well-pointed spear
Against this friendly land.[f21] When, from the tomb,
I shall perceive who disregards this oath
Of my sons’ sons, I will perplex that man
With sore perplexities inextricable;
Ways of despair, and evil-birded paths[f22]
Shall be his portion, cursing his own choice.
But if my vows be duly kept, with those
That in the closely-banded league shall aid
Athena’s city, I am present ever.
Then fare thee well, thou and thy people! Never
May foe escape thy grasp! When thou dost struggle,
Safety and victory attend thy spear! [Exit.
Chorus.
Curse on your cause,
Ye gods that are younger!
O’er the time-hallowed laws
Rough ye ride as the stronger.
Of the prey that was ours
Ye with rude hands bereave us,
’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
Shorn of honor ye leave us.
Behold, on the ground
From a heart of hostility,
I sprinkle around
Black gouts of sterility!
A plague I will bring,
With a dry lichen spreading;
No green blade shall spring
Where the Fury is treading.
To abortion I turn
The birth of the blooming,
Where the plague-spot shall burn
Of my wrath, life-consuming.
I am mocked,[f23] but in vain
They rejoice at my moaning;
They shall pay for my pain,
With a fearful atoning,
Who seized on my right,
And, with wrong unexampled,
On the daughters of Night
High scornfully trampled.
Athena.
Be ruled by me: your heavy-bosomed groans
Refrain. Not vanquished thou, but the fair vote
Leapt equal from the urn, with no disgrace
To thee. From Jove himself clear witness came;
The oracular god that urged the deed, the same
Stood here to vouch it, that Orestes might not
Reap harm from his obedience. Soothe ye, therefore;
Cast not your bolted vengeance on this land,
Your gouts of wrath divine distil not, stings
Of pointed venom, with keen corrosive power
Eating life’s seeds, all barrenness and blight.
A home within this land I pledge you, here
A shrine, a refuge, and a hearth secure,
Where ye on shining thrones shall sit, my city
Yielding devoutest homage to your power.
Chorus.
Curse on your cause,
Ye gods that are younger!
O’er the time-hallowed laws
Rough ye ride, as the stronger.
Of the prey that was ours
Ye with rude hands bereave us,
’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
Shorn of honor ye leave us.
Behold, on the ground
From a heart of hostility,
I sprinkle around
Black gouts of sterility!
A plague I will bring
With a dry lichen spreading;
No green blade shall spring
Where the Fury is treading.
To abortion I turn
The birth of the blooming,
Where the plague-spot shall burn
Of my wrath, life-consuming.
I am mocked, but in vain
They rejoice at my moaning;
They shall pay for my pain,
With a fearful atoning,
Who seized on my right,
And, with wrong unexampled,
On the daughters of Night
High scornfully trampled.
Athena.
Dishonoured are ye not: Spit not your rancour
On this fair land remediless. Rests my trust
On Jove, the mighty, I of all the gods
Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock
His thunder-halls:[n53] but this I name not here.
Yield thou: cast not the seed of reckless speech
To crop the land with woe. Soothing the waves
Of bitter anger darkling in thy breast,
Dwell in this land, thy dreadful deity
Sistered with me. When thronging worshippers
Henceforth shall cull choice firstlings for thine altars,
Praying thy grace to bless the wedded rite,
And the child-bearing womb—then honoured so,
How wise my present counsel thou shalt know.
Chorus.
Voice 1.
I to dwell ’neath the Earth
All clipt of my glory,
In the dark-chambered Earth,
I, the ancient, the hoary!
Voice 2.
I breathe on thee curses,
I cut through thy marrow,
For the insult that pierces
My heart like an arrow.
Voice 3.
Hear my cry, mother Night,
’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
With their harsh-handed might
Of my right they bereaved me.
Athena.
Thy anger I forgive; for thou’rt the elder.
But though thy years bring wisdom, to me also
Jove gave a heart, not undiscerning. You—
Mark well my words—if now some foreign land
Ye choose, will rue your choice, and long for Athens.
The years to be shall float more richly fraught
With honor to my citizens; thou shaft hold
An honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home,[n54]
Where men and women in marshalled pomp shall pay thee
Such homage, as no land on Earth may render.
But cast not ye on this my chosen land
Whetstones of fury, teaching knives to drink
The blood of tender bowels, madding the heart
With wineless drunkenness, that men shall swell
Like game cocks for the battle; save my city
From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.[n55]
Without the walls, and far from kindred hearths
Rage war, where honor calls, and glory crowns.
A bird of blood within the house I love not.
Use thine election; wisely use it; give
A blessing, and a blessing take; with me
May this land dear to the gods be dear to thee!
Chorus.
Voice 1.
I to dwell ’neath the Earth
All clipt of my glory,
In the dark-chambered Earth
I, the ancient, the hoary!
Voice 2.
I breathe on thee curses,
I cut through thy marrow,
For the insult that pierces
My heart like an arrow.
Voice 3.
Hear my cry, mother Night,
’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
With their harsh-handed might
Of my right they bereaved me.
Athena.
To advise thee well I faint not. Never more
Shalt thou, a hoary-dated power, complain
That I, a younger, or my citizens,
From our inhospitable gates expelled thee
Of thy due honors shortened. If respect
For sacred Peitho’s[f24] godhead, for the honey
And charming of the tongue may move thee, stay;
But, if ye will go, show of justice none
Remains, with rancour, wrath, and scathe to smite
This land and people. Stands your honoured lot
With me for ever, so ye scorn it not.
Chorus.
Sovran Athena, what sure home receives me?
Athena.
A home from sorrow free. Receive it freely.
Chorus.
And when received, what honors wait me then?
Athena.
No house shall prosper where thy blessing fails.
Chorus.
This by thy grace is sure?
Athena.
I will upbuild
His house who honours thee.
Chorus.
This pledged for ever?
Athena.
I cannot promise what I not perform.
Chorus.
Thy words have soothed me, and my wrath relents.
Athena.
Here harboured thou wilt number many friends.
Chorus.
Say, then, how shall my hymn uprise to bless thee?
Athena.
Hymn things that strike fair victory’s mark: from Earth,
From the sea’s briny dew, and from the sky
Bring blessings; the benignly-breathing gales
On summer wings be wafted to this land;
Let the Earth swell with the exuberant flow
Of fruits and flowers, that want may be unknown.
Bless human seed with increase, but cast out
The impious man; even as a gardener, I
Would tend the flowers, the briars and the thorns
Heaped for the burning. This thy province. I
In feats of Mars conspicuous will not fail
To plant this city ’fore all eyes triumphant.
STROPHE I.
Chorus.
Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compelling
Hath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwelling
With thine, and with Jove’s, the all-ruling, thy sire.
The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,
The fortress of gods,[n56] the fair grace of Immortals.
I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desire
To the Sun, when he shines in his full-flooded splendour,
Her tribute to thee may the swelling Earth render,
And bounty with bounty conspire!
Athena.
Athens, no trifling gain I’ve won thee.
With rich blessing thou shalt harbour,
Through my grace, these much-prevailing
Sternest-hearted Powers. For they
Rule, o’er human fates appointed,
With far-reaching sway.
Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten![n57]
With strokes he knows not whence descending,
Not for his own, for guilt inherited,[n58]
They with silent-footed vengeance
Shall o’ertake him: in the dust,
Heaven with piercing cries imploring,
Crushed the sinner lies.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Chorus.
Far from thy dwelling, and far from thy border,
By the grace of my godhead benignant I order
The blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.
Far from thy border, and far from thy dwelling
Be the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,
The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!
Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,
And, when Hermes is near thee,[n59] thy hand still be ready
The Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!
Athena.
Hear her words, my city’s warders,
Fraught with blessing; she prevaileth
With Olympians and Infernals,
Dread Erinnys much revered.
Mortal fates she guideth plainly
To what goal she pleaseth, sending
Songs to some, to others days
With tearful sorrows dulled.
STROPHE II.
Chorus.
Far from your dwelling
Be death’s early knelling,
When falls in his green strength the strong
Your virgins, the fairest,
To brave youths the rarest
Be mated, glad life to prolong!
Ye Fates, high-presiding,[n60]
The right well dividing,
Dread powers darkly mothered with me;
Our firm favour sharing,
From judgment unsparing
The homes of the just man be free!
But the guilty shall fear them,
When in terror shall near them
The Fates, sternly sistered with me.
Athena.
Work your perfect will, dread maidens,
O’er my land benignly watching!
I rejoice. Blest be the eyes
Of Peitho, that with strong persuasion
Armed my tongue, to soothe the fierce
Refusal of these awful maids.
Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
In the high debate hath conquered.[n61]
In the strife of blessing now,
You with me shall vie for ever.
ANTISTROPHE II.
Chorus.
Far from thy border
The lawless disorder,
That sateless of evil shall reign!
Far from thy dwelling
The dear blood welling,
That taints thy own hearth with the stain,
When slaughter from slaughter
Shall flow, like the water,
And rancour from rancour shall grow!
But joy with joy blending
Live, each to all lending,
And hating one-hearted the foe!
When bliss hath departed,
From will single-hearted,
A fountain of healing shall flow.
Athena.
Wisely now the tongue of kindness
Thou hast found, the way of love;
And these terror-speaking faces
Now look wealth to me and mine.
Her so willing, ye more willing
Now receive; this land and city,
On ancient right securely throned,
Shall shine for evermore.
STROPHE III.
Chorus.
Hail, and all hail! mighty people be greeted!
On the sons of Athena shine sunshine the clearest!
Blest people, near Jove the Olympian seated,
And dear to the virgin his daughter the dearest.
Timely wise ’neath the wings of the daughter ye gather;
And mildly looks down on her children the father.
Athena.
Hail, all hail to you! but chiefly
Me behoves it now to lead you
To your fore-appointed homes.
Go, with holy train attendant,
With sacrifice, and torch resplendent,
Underneath the ground.
Go, and with your potent godhead
Quell the ill that threats the city,
Spur the good to victory’s goal.
Lead the way ye sons of Cranaus,[f25]
To these strangers, strange no more;
Their kindly thoughts to you remember,
Grateful evermore.
ANTISTROPHE III.
Chorus.
Hail, yet again, with this last salutation,
Ye sons of Athena, ye citizens all!
On gods, and on mortals, in high congregation
Assembled, my blessing not vainly shall fall.
O city of Pallas, while thou shalt revere me,
Thy walls hold the pledge that no harm shall come near thee.
Athena.
Well hymned. My heart chimes with you, and I send
The beamy-twinkling torches to conduct you
To your dark-vaulted chambers ’neath the ground.
They who attend my shrine, with pious homage,
Shall be your convoy. The fair eye of the land,
The marshalled host of Theseus’ sons shall march
In festive train with you, both man and woman,
Matron and maid, green youth and hoary age.
Honor the awful maids, clad with the grace
Of purple-tinctured robes; and let the flame
March ’fore their path bright-rayed; and, evermore,
With populous wealth smile every Attic rood
Blessed by this gracious-minded sisterhood.[n62]
[Convoy, conducting the Eumenides in festal pomp to their subterranean temple, with torches in their hands:
STROPHE I.
Go with honor crowned and glory,
Of hoary Night the daughters hoary,
To your destined hall.
Where our sacred train is wending,
Stand, ye pious throngs attending,
Hushed in silence all.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Go to hallowed habitations,
’Neath Ogygian[f26] Earth’s foundations:
In that darksome hall
Sacrifice and supplication
Shall not fail. In adoration
Silent worship all.
STROPHE II.
Here, in caverned halls, abiding,
High on awful thrones presiding,
Gracious ye shall reign.
March in torches’ glare rejoicing!
Sing, ye throngs, their praises, voicing
Loud the exultant strain!
ANTISTROPHE II.
Blazing torch, and pure libation
From age to age this pious nation
Shall not use in vain.
Thus hath willed it Jove all-seeing,
Thus the Fate. To their decreeing
Shout the responsive strain!
[The End]