Thyestes. Philisthenes. Peneus.
Thy. Welcome to my arms,
My hope, my comfort! Time has roll’d about
Several months since I have seen thy face,
And in its progress has done wond’rous things.
Phil. Strange things indeed to chase you to this sad
Dismal abode; nay, and to age, I think:
I see that winter thrusting itself forth
Long, long before its time, in silver hairs.
Thy. My fault, my son; I would be great and high,
Snow lies in summer on some mountain tops.
Ah, Son! I’m sorry for thy noble youth,
Thou hast so bad a father; I’m afraid,
Fortune will quarrel with thee for my sake.
Thou wilt derive unhappiness from me,
Like an hereditary ill disease.
Phil. Sir, I was born, when you were innocent;
And all the ill you have contracted since,
You have wrought out by painful penitence;
For healthy joy returns to us again;
Nay, a more vigorous joy than e’er we had.
Like one recover’d from a sad disease,
Nature for damage pays him double cost,
And gives him fairer flesh than e’er he had.
Thyestes is won from his retirement by the joint representations of Philisthenes and Peneus, of the apparent good faith, and returning kindness of his brother; and visits Mycenæ:—his confidence; his returning misgivings.
Thyestes. Philisthenes. Peneus.
Thy. O wondrous pleasure to a banish’d man,
I feel my loved long look’d-for native soil!
And oh! my weary eyes, that all the day
Had from some mountain travell’d toward this place,
Now rest themselves upon the royal towers
Of that great palace where I had my birth.
O sacred towers, sacred in your height,
Mingling with clouds, the villas of the Gods
Whither for sacred pleasures they retire;
Sacred because you are the work of Gods;
Your lofty looks boast your divine descent:
And the proud city which lies at your feet,
And would give place to nothing but to you,
Owns her original is short of yours.
And now a thousand objects more ride fast
On morning beams, and meet my eyes in throngs;
And see, all Argos meets me with loud shouts!
Phil. O joyful sound!
Thy. But with them Atreus too—
Phil. What ails my father, that he stops, and shakes,
And now retires?
Thy. Return with me, my son,
And old friend Peneus, to the honest beasts,
And faithful desart, and well-seated caves;
Trees shelter man, by whom they often die,
And never seek revenge: no villainy
Lies in the prospect of an humble cave.
Pen. Talk you of villainy, of foes, and fraud.
Thy. I talk of Atreus.
Pen. What are these to him?
Thy. Nearer than I am, for they are himself.
Pen. Gods drive these impious thoughts out of your mind.
Thy. The Gods for all our safety put them there.—
Return, return with me.
Pen. Against our oaths?
I cannot stem the vengeance of the Gods.
Thy. Here are no Gods: they’ve left this dire abode.
Pen. True race of Tantalus! who parent-like
Are doom’d in midst of plenty to be starved.
His hell and yours differ alone in this:
When he would catch at joys, they fly from him;
When glories catch at you, you fly from them.
Thy. A fit comparison; our joys and his
Are lying shadows, which to trust is hell.
The day of the pretended Nuptials.—Atreus feigns a returning love for his Queen.
Ærope. O this is too much joy for me to bear:
You build new palaces on broken walls.
Atreus. Come, let our new-born pleasures breathe sweet air;
This room’s too vile a cabinet for gold.
Then leave for ever, Love, this doleful place,
And leave behind thee all thy sorrows here;
And dress thyself as this great day requires.
’Twill be thy daughter’s nuptials; and I dream’d,
The Sun himself would be asham’d to come,
And be a guest in his old tarnish’d robe;
But leave my Court,[468] to enlighten all the globe.—
Peneus to Atreus, dissuading him from his horrid purpose.
Pen. Fear you not men or Gods?
Atr. The fear of Gods ne’er came in Pelops’ House.
Pen. Think you there are no Gods?
Atr. I find all things
So false, I am sure of nothing but of wrongs.—
Atreus. Thyestes.