Works of Aeschylus - Aeschylus [34]
Did she the deed or not? this robe gives proof,
Imbrued with blood that bathed Aegisthus' sword:
Look, how the spurted stain combines with time
To blur the many dyes that once adorned
Its pattern manifold! I now stand here,
Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing-
Hear, O thou woven web that slew my sire!
I grieve for deed and death and all my home-
Victor, pollution's damned stain for prize.
Chorus of Slave Women:
chanting
Alas, that none of mortal men
Can pass his life untouched by pain!
Behold, one woe is here-
Another loometh near.
Orestes:
Hark ye and learn-for what the end shall be
For me I know not: breaking from the curb
My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey,
Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught
Far from the course, and madness in my breast
Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave-
Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes!
I say that rightfully I slew my mother,
A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire.
And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me
Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer
Apollo, who foretold that if I slew,
The guilt of murder done should pass from me;
But if I spared, the fate that should be mine
I dare not blazon forth-the bow of speech
Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell.
And now behold me, how with branch and crown
I pass, a suppliant made meet to go
Unto Earth's midmost shrine, the holy ground
Of Loxias, and that renowned light
Of ever-burning fire, to 'scape the doom
Of kindred murder: to no other shrine,
So Loxias bade, may I for refuge turn.
Bear witness, Argives, in the after time,
How came on me this dread fatality.
Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence,
To leave in death the memory of this cry.
Leader of the Chorus:
Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lips
To speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words-
Who hast to Argos her full freedom given,
Lopping two serpents' heads with timely blow.
Orestes:
Look, look, alas!
Handmaidens, see-what Gorgon shapes throng up
Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound-
Snakes coiled with snakes-off, off,-I must away!
Leader of the Chorus:
Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire,
What visions thus distract thee? Hold, abide;
Great was thy victory, and shalt thou fear?
Orestes:
These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill,
But clear to sight another's hell-hounds come!
Leader of the Chorus:
Nay, the fresh bloodshed still imbrues thine hands,
And thence distraction sinks into thy soul.
Orestes:
O king Apollo-see, they swarm and throng-
Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes!
Leader of the Chorus:
One remedy thou hast; go, touch the shrine
Of Loxias, and rid thee of these woes.
Orestes:
Ye can behold them not, but I behold them.
Up and away! I dare abide no more.
He rushes out.
Leader of the Chorus:
Farewell then as thou mayst,-the god thy friend
Guard thee and aid with chances favouring.
Chorus of Slave Women:
chanting
Behold, the storm of woe divine
That raves and beats on Atreus' line
Its great third blast hath blown.
First was Thyestes' loathly woe
The rueful feast of long ago,
On children's flesh, unknown.
And next the kingly chief's despite,
When he who led the Greeks to fight
Was in the bath hewn down.
And now the offspring of the race
Stands in the third, the saviour's place,
To save-or to consume?
O whither, ere it be fulfilled,
Ere its fierce blast be hushed and stilled,
Shall blow the wind of doom?
Exeunt
________
The End
The Eumenides or, The Furies
by Aeschylus
Translated by E. D. A. Morshead
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Aeschylus Biography
Dramatis Personae
The Pythian Priestess
Apollo
Orestes
The Ghost of Clytemnestra
Chorus of the Furies
Athena
Attendants of Athena
Twelve Athenian Citizens
Drama
The Scene of the Drama is the Temple of Apollo, at Delphi: afterwards the Temple of Athena, on the Acropolis of Athens, and the adjoining Areopagus.
The Temple at Delphi
The Pythian Priestess:
First, in this prayer,