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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THYESTES by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA

First Line: WHO DRAGS ME MY PLACE AMONG THE SHADES
Last Line: I GIVE THEE OVER FOR THY PUNISHMENT.
Subject(s): MYTHOLOGY - GREEK; TRAGEDY;
@3DRAMATIS PERSONÆ@1

ATREUS.
THYESTES.
SPIRIT OF THE ELDER TANTALUS.
PLISTHENES, Sons of Thyestes.
TANTALUS,
A BOY,
MEGÆRA.
MESSENGER.
SERVANT.
CHORUS OF MEN OF MYCENÆ.

SCENE: @3Before the Palace of Atreus.@1

ACT I

SCENE I

@3Spirit of Tantalus, Megæra.

Spirit.@1 Who drags me from my place among the shades,
Where with dry lips I seek the flying waves
What hostile god again shows Tantalus
His hated palace? Has some worse thing come
Than thirst amid the waters or the pangs
Of ever-gnawing hunger? Must the stone,
The slippery burden borne by Sisyphus,
Weigh down my shoulders, or Ixion's wheel
Carry my limbs around in its swift course,
Or must I fear Tityus' punishment?
Stretched in a lofty cave he feeds dun birds
Upon his vitals which they tear away,
And night renews whatever day destroyed,
And thus he offers them full feast again.
Against what evil have I been reserved?
Stern judge of Hades, whosoe'er thou art
Who metest to the dead due penalties,
If something can be added more than pain,
Seek that at which the grim custodian
Of this dark prison must himself feel fear,
Something from which sad Acheron shall shrink,
Before whose horror I myself must fear;
For many sprung from me, who shall outsin
Their house, who, daring deeds undared by me,
Make me seem innocent, already come.
Whatever impious deed this realm may lack
My house will bring; while Pelops' line remains
Minos shall never be unoccupied.
@3Magæra.@1 Go, hated shade, and drive thy sinstained home
To madness; let the sword try every crime,
And pass from hand to hand; nor let there be
Limit to rage and shame; let fury blind
Urge on their thoughts; let parents' hearts be hard
Through madness, long iniquity be heaped
Upon the children, let them never know
Leisure to hate old crimes, let new ones rise,
Many in one; let sin while punished grow;
From the proud brothers let the throne depart,
Then let it call the exiled home again.
Let the dark fortunes of a violent house
Among unstable kings be brought to naught.
Let evil fortune on the mighty fall,
The wretched come to power; let chance toss
The kingdom with an ever-changing tide
Where'er it will. Exiled because of crime,
When god would give them back their native land
Let them through crime reach home, and let them hate
Themselves as others hate them. Let them deem
No crime forbidden when their passions rage;
Let brother greatly fear his brother's hand,
Let parents fear their sons, and let the sons
Feel fear of parents, children wretched die,
More wretchedly be born; let wife rebel
Against her husband, wars pass over seas,
And every land be wet with blood poured forth;
Let lust, victorious, o'er great kings exult
And basest deeds be easy in thy house;
Let right and truth and justice be no more
'Twixt brothers. Let not heaven be immune—
Why shine the stars within the firmament
To be a source of beauty to the world?
Let night be different, day no more exist.
O'erthrow thy household gods, bring hatred, death,
Wild slaughter, with thy spirit fill the house,
Deck the high portals, let the gates be green
With laurel, fires for thy advent meet
Shall glow, crimes worse than Thracian shall be done.
Why idle lies the uncle's stern right hand?
Thyestes has not yet bewept his sons;
When will they be destroyed? Lo, even now
Upon the fire the brazen pot shall boil,
The members shall be broken into parts,
The father's hearth with children's blood be wet,
The feast shall be prepared. Thou wilt not come
Guest at a feast whose crime is new to thee:
To-day we give thee freedom; satisfy
Thy hunger at those tables, end thy fast.
Blood mixed with wine shall in thy sight be drunk,
Food have I found that even thou wouldst shun.
Stay! Whither dost thou rush?
@3Spirit.@1 To stagnant pools,
Rivers and waters ever slipping by,
To the fell trees that will not give me food.
Let me go hence to my dark prison-house,
Let me, if all too little seems my woe,
Seek other shores; within thy channels' midst
And by thy floods of fire hemmed about,
O Phlegethon, permit me to be left.
O ye who suffer by the fates' decree
Sharp penalties, O thou who, filled with fear,
Within the hallowed cave dost wait the fall
Of the impending mountain, thou who dreadst
The ravening lion's open jaws, the hand
Of cruel furies that encompass thee,
Thou who, half burned, dost feel their torch applied,
Hear ye the voice of Tantalus who knows:
Love ye your penalties! Ah, woe is me,
When shall I be allowed to flee to hell?
@3Megæra.@1 First into dread confusion throw thy house,
Bring with thee battle and the sword and love,
Strike thou the king's wild heart with frantic rage.
@3Spirit.@1 'Tis right that I should suffer punishment,
But not that I myself be punishment.
Like a death-dealing vapor must I go
Out of the riven earth, or like a plague
Most grievous to the people, or a pest
Widespread, I bring my children's children crime.
Great father of the gods, our father too—
However much our sonship cause thee shame—
Although my too loquacious tongue should pay
Due punishment for sin, yet will I speak:
Stain not, my kinsmen, holy hands with blood,
The altars with unholy sacrifice
Pollute not. I will stay and ward off crime.
[@3To Megæra.@1] Why dost thou terrify me with thy torch,
And fiercely threaten with thy writhing snakes?
Why dost thou stir the hunger in my reins?
My heart is burning with the fire of thirst,
My parched veins feel the flame.
@3Megæra,@1 Through all thy house
Scatter this fury; thus shall they, too, rage,
And, mad with anger, thirst by turns to drink
Each other's blood. Thy house thy coming feels
And trembles at thy execrable touch.
It is enough; depart to hell's dark caves
And to thy well-known river. Earth is sad
And burdened by thy presence. Backward forced,
Seest thou not the waters leave the streams,
How all the banks are dry, how fiery winds
Drive the few scattered clouds? The foliage pales,
And every branch is bare, the fruits are fled.
And where the Isthmus has been wont to sound
With the near waters, roaring on each side,
And cutting off the narrow strip of land,
Far from the shore is heard the sound remote.
Now Lerna's waters have been backward drawn,
Sacred Alpheus' stream is seen no more,
Cithæron's summit stands untouched with snow,
And Argos fears again its former thirst.
Lo, Titan's self is doubtful—shall he drive
His horses upward, bring again the day?
It will but rise to die.

SCENE II

@3Chorus.@1

If any god still cherish love for Greece,
Argos, and Pisa for her chariots famed,
If any cherishes the Isthmian realm,
And the twin havens, and the parted seas,
If any love Taygetus' bright snows
That shine afar, which northern winter lays
Upon its highest summits and the breath
Of summer trade winds welcome to the sails
Melts, let him whom Alpheus' ice-cold stream
Touches, well known for his Olympic course,
Wield the calm influence of his heavenly power,
Nor suffer crimes in constant series come.
Let not a grandson, readier for that crime
E'en than his father's father, follow him,
Nor let the father's error please the sons.
Let thirsty Tantalus' base progeny,
Wearied at length, give up their fierce attempts;
Enough of crime! No more is right of worth,
And common wrongs of little moment seem;
The traitor Myrtilus betrayed his lord
And slew him—by such faith as he had shown
Himself dragged down, he gave the sea a name;
To ships on the Ægean never tale
Was better known. Met by the cruel sword,
Even while he ran to gain his father's kiss,
The little son was slain; he early fell
A victim to the hearth, by thy right hand,
O Tantalus, cut off that thou mightst spread
Such feasts before the gods. Eternal thirst
And endless famine followed on the feast;
Nor can a worthier punishment be found
For savage feast like that. With empty maw
Stands weary Tantalus, above his head
Hangs ready food, more swift to take its flight
Than Phineus' birds; on every side it hangs;
The tree beneath the burden of its fruit
Bending and trembling, shuns his open mouth;
He though so eager, brooking no delay,
Yet oft deceived, neglects to touch the tree,
And drops his head and presses close his lips,
And shuts his hunger in behind clenched teeth.
The ripe fruit taunts him from the languid boughs,
And whets his hunger till it urges him
To stretch again his hand oft stretched in vain.
Then the whole harvest of the bended boughs
Is lifted out of reach. Thirst rises then,
More hard to bear than hunger, when his blood
Is hot within him and his eyes aflame;
Wretched he stands striving to touch his lips
To the near waters, but the stream retreats,
Forsakes him when he strives to follow it,
And leaves him in dry sands; his eager lips
Drink but the dust.

ACT II

SCENE I

@3Atreus, Slave.

Atreus.@1 O slothful, indolent, weak, unavenged
(This last I deem for tyrants greatest wrong
In great affairs), after so many crimes,
After thy brother's treachery to thee,
After the breaking of all laws of right,
Dost thou, O angry Atreus, waste the time
In idle lamentations? All the world
Should echo with the uproar of thy arms,
And either sea should bear thy ships of war;
The fields and cities should be bright with flame;
The flashing sword should everywhere be drawn;
All Greece shall with our horsemen's tread resound;
Woods shall not hide the foe nor towers built
Upon the highest summits of the hills;
Mycenæ's citizens shall leave the town
And sing the warsong; he shall die hard death
Who gives that hated head a hiding-place.
This palace even, noble Pelops' home,
Shall fall, if it must be, and bury me
If only on my brother too it fall.
Up, do a deed which none shall e'er approve,
But one whose fame none shall e'er cease to speak.
Some fierce and bloody crime must now be dared,
Such as my brother seeing shall wish his.
A wrong is not avenged but by worse wrong.
What deed can be so wild 'tis worse than his?
Does he lie humbled? Does he feel content
When fortune smiles, or tranquil when she frowns?
I know the tameless spirit of the man,
Not to be bent but broken, therefore seek
Revenge before he makes himself secure,
Renews his strength, lest he should fall on me
When I am unaware. Or kill, or die!
Crime is between us to be seized by one.
@3Slave.@1 Fearest thou not the people's hostile words?
@3Atreus.@1 Herein is greatest good of royal power:
The populace not only must endure
Their master's deeds, but praise them.
@3Slave.@1 Fear shall make
Those hostile who were first compelled to praise;
But he who seeks the fame of true applause
Would rather by the heart than voice be praised.
@3Atreus.@1 The lowly oft enjoy praise truly meant,
The mighty ne'er know aught but flattery.
The people oft must will what they would not.
@3Slave.@1 The king should wish for honesty and right;
Then there is none who does not wish with him.
@3Atreus.@1 When he who rules must wish for right alone
He hardly rules, except on sufferance.
@3Slave.@1 When reverence is not, nor love of law,
Nor loyalty, integrity, nor truth,
The realm is insecure.
@3Atreus.@1 Integrity,
Truth, loyalty, are private virtues; kings
Do as they will.
@3Slave.@1 O deem it wrong to harm
A brother, even though he be most base.
@3Atreus.@1 No deed that is unlawful to be done
Against a brother but may lawfully
Be done against this man. What has he left
Untainted by his crime? Where has he spared
To do an impious deed? He took my wife
Adulterously, he took my realm by stealth,
The earnest of the realm he gained by fraud,
By fraud he brought confusion to my home.
There is in Pelops' stalls a noble sheep,
A magic ram, lord of the fruitful herd;
O'er all his body hangs the golden fleece.
In him each king sprung from the royal line
Of Tantalus his golden scepter holds,
Who has the ram possesses too the realm,
The fortunes of the palace follow him.
As fits a sacred thing, he feeds apart,
In a safe meadow which a wall surrounds
Hiding the pasture with its fateful stones.
The faithless one, daring a matchless crime,
Stole him away and with him took my wife,
Accomplice in his sin. From this has flowed
Every disaster; exiled and in fear
I've wandered through my realm; no place is safe
From brother's plots; my wife has been defiled,
The quiet of my realm has been disturbed,
My house is troubled, and the ties of blood
Are insecure, of nothing am I sure
Unless it be my brother's enmity.
Why hesitate? At length be strong to act.
Look upon Tantalus, on Pelops look;
To deeds like theirs these hands of mine are called.
Tell me, how shall I slay that cursed one?
@3Slave.@1 Slain by the sword let him spew forth his soul.
@3Atreus.@1 Thou tellest the end of punishment, I wish
The punishment itself. Mild tyrants slay;
Death is a longed-for favor in my realm.
@3Slave.@1 Hast thou no piety?
@3Atreus.@1 If e'er it dwelt
Within our home, let piety depart.
Let the grim company of Furies come,
Jarring Erinnys and Megæra dread
Shaking their torches twain. My breast burns not
With anger hot enough. I fain would feel
Worse horrors.
@3Slave.@1 What new exile dost thou plot,
In thy mad rage?
@3Atreus.@1 No deed that keeps the bounds
Of former evils, I will leave no crime
Untried, and none is great enough for me.
@3Slave.@1 The sword?
@3Atreus.@1 'Tis poor.
@3Slave.@1 Or fire?
@3Atreus.@1 'Tis not enough.
@3Slave.@1 What weapon then shall arm such hate as thine?
@3Atreus.@1 Thyestes' self.
@3Slave.@1 This ill is worse than hate.
@3Atreus.@1 I own it. In my breast a tumult reigns;
It rages deep within, and I am urged
I know not whither, yet it urges me.
Earth from its lowest depths sends forth a groan,
It thunders though the daylight is serene,
The whole house shakes as though the house were rent,
The trembling Lares turn away their face.
This shall be done, this evil shall be done,
Which, gods, ye fear.
@3Slave.@1 What is it thou wilt do?
@3Atreus.@1 I know not what great passion in my heart,
Wilder than I have known, beyond the bounds
Of human nature, rises, urges on
My slothful hands. I know not what it is,
'Tis something great. Yet be it what it may,
Make haste, my soul! Fit for Thyestes' hand
This crime would be; 'tis worthy Atreus, too,
And both shall do it. Tereus' house has seen
Such shocking feasts. I own the crime is great,
And yet it has been done; some greater crime
Let grief invent. Inspire thou my soul
O Daulian Procne, thou wast sister too;
Our cause is like, assist, impel my hand.
The father, hungrily, with joy shall tear
His children, and shall eat their very flesh;
'Tis well, it is enough. This punishment
Is so far pleasing. But where can he be?
And why is Atreus so long innocent?
Already all the sacrifice I see,
As in a picture, see the morsels placed
Within the father's mouth. Wherefore, my soul,
Art thou afraid? Why fail before the deed?
Forward! It must be done. Himself shall do
What is in such a deed the greater crime.
@3Slave.@1 But captured by what wiles, will he consent
To put his feet within our toils? He deems
That all are hostile.
@3Atreus.@1 'Twere not possible
To capture him but that he'd capture me.
He hopes to gain my kingdom; through this hope
He will make haste to meet the thunderbolts
Of threatening Jove, in this hope will endure
The swelling whirlpool's threats, and dare to go
Within the Lybian Syrtes' doubtful shoals,
To see again his brother, last and worst
Of evils deemed; this hope shall lead him on.
@3Slave.@1 Who shall persuade him he may come in peace?
Whose word will he believe?
@3Atreus.@1 Malicious hope
Is credulous, yet I will give my sons
A message they shall to their uncle bear:
'The wandering exile, leaving chance abodes,
May for a kingdom change his misery,
May reign in Argos, sharer of my throne.'
But if Thyestes sternly spurn my prayers,
His artless children, wearied by their woes
And easily persuaded, with their plea
Will overcome him; his old thirst for rule,
Beside sad poverty and heavy toil,
With weight of evil, will subdue his soul
However hard it be.
@3Slave.@1 Time will have made
His sorrow light.
@3Atreus.@1 Thou errest; sense of ills
Increases daily. To endure distress
Is easy, but to bear it to the end
Is hard.
@3Slave.@1 Choose others for thy messengers
In this dread plan.
@3Atreus.@1 Youth freely dares the worst.
@3Slave.@1 What now thou teachest them in enmity
Against their uncle, they may later do
Against their father; evil deeds return
Full oft upon their author.
@3Atreus.@1 If they learned
The way of treachery and crime from none,
Possession of the throne would teach it them.
Art thou afraid their natures will grow base?
So were they born. That which thou callest wild
And cruel, and deemst hardly to be done,
Ruthless, nor showing honor for god's laws,
Perchance is even now against ourselves
Attempted.
@3Slave.@1 Shall thy sons know what they do?
@3Atreus.@1 Discretion is not found with so few years.
They might perhaps discover all the guile;
Silence is learned through long and evil years.
@3Slave.@1 The very ones through whom thou wouldst deceive
Another thou deceivest?
@3Atreus.@1 That themselves
May be exempt from crime or fault of mine;
Why should I mix my children in my sins?
My hatred shall unfold itself in me.
Yet say not so, thou doest ill, my soul;
If thine thou sparest, thou sparest also his.
My minister shall Agamemnon be,
And know my plan, and Menelaus too
Shall know his father's plans and further them.
Through this crime will I prove if they be mine;
If they refuse the contest nor consent
To my revenge, but call him uncle, then
I'll know he is their father. It shall be.
But oft a frightened look lays bare the heart,
Great plans may be unwillingly betrayed;
They shall not know how great affairs they aid.
Hide thou our undertaking.
@3Slave.@1 Scarce were need
That I should be admonished; in my breast
Both fear and loyalty will keep it hid,
But loyalty the rather.

SCENE II

@3Chorus.@1

The ancient race of royal Inachus
At last has laid aside fraternal threats.
What madness drove you, that by turns you shed
Each other's blood and sought to mount the throne
By crime? You know not, eager for high place,
What kingly station means. It is not wealth
That makes the king, nor robes of Tyrian dye,
'Tis not the crown upon the royal brow,
Nor gates made bright with gold; a king is he
Whose hard heart has forgotten fear and pain,
Whom impotent ambition does not move,
Nor the inconstant favor of the crowd,
Who covets nothing that the west affords,
Nor aught that Tagus' golden waves wash up
From its bright channels, nor the grain thrashed out
Upon the glowing Libyan threshing-floors,
Who neither fears the falling thunderbolt,
Nor Eurus stirring all the sea to wrath,
Nor windy Adriatic's swelling rage;
Who is not conquered by a soldier's lance,
Nor the drawn sword; who seated on safe heights,
Sees everything beneath him; who makes haste
Freely to meet his fate, nor grieves to die.
Let kings who vex the scattered Scythians come,
Who hold the Red Sea's shore, the pearl-filled sea,
Or who intrenched upon the Caspian range
To bold Sarmatians close the way, who breast
The Danube's waves, or those who dare pursue
And spoil the noble Seres where'er they dwell.
The mind a kingdom is; there is no need
Of horse, or weapon, or the coward dart
Which from afar the Parthian hurls and flees—
Or seems to flee, no need to overthrow
Cities with engines that hurl stones afar,
When one possesses in himself his realm.
Whoever will may on the slippery heights
Of empire stand, but I with sweet repose
Am satisfied, rejoice in gentle ease,
And, to my fellow citizens unknown,
My life shall flow in calm obscurity,
And when, untouched by storm, my days have passed,
Then will I die, a common citizen,
In good old age. Death seemeth hard to him
Who dies but too well known to all the world,
Yet knowing not himself.

ACT III

SCENE I

@3Thyestes, Plisthenes, Tantalus, A boy.

Thyestes.@1 The longed-for dwelling of my native land
And, to the wretched exile greatest boon,
Rich Argos and a stretch of native soil,
And, if there yet be gods, my country's gods
I see at last; the Cyclop's sacred towers,
Of greater beauty than the work of man;
The celebrated race-course of my youth
Where oft, well known, I drove my father's car
And carried off the palm. Argos will come
To meet me, and the people come in crowds,
Perchance my brother Atreus too will come!
Rather return to exile in the woods
And mountain pastures, live the life of brutes
Among them. This bright splendor of the realm
With its false glitter shall not blind my eyes.
Look on the giver, not the gift alone.
In fortunes which the world deemed hard I lived
Joyous and brave, now am I forced to fear,
My courage fails me, fain would I retreat,
Unwillingly I go.
@3Tantalus.@1 What see I here?
With hesitating step my father goes,
He seems uncertain, turns away his head.
@3Thyestes.@1 Why doubt, my soul? or why so long revolve
Deliberations easy to conclude?
In most uncertain things dost thou confide
And in thy brother's realm, and stand in fear
Of ills already conquered and found mild?
Dost fly the troubles thou hast learned to bear?
Now to be wretched with the shades were joy,
Turn while thou yet hast time.
@3Tantalus.@1 Why turn away?
From thy loved country? Why deny thyself
So much of happiness? His wrath forgot,
Thy brother gives thee back the kingdom's half
And to the jarring members of his house
Brings peace, restores thee once more to thyself.
@3Thyestes.@1 Thou askest why I fear; I do not know.
I see not aught to fear and yet I fear.
Fain would I go and yet with slothful feet
I waver and am borne unwillingly
Whither I would not; thus the ship propelled
By oar and sail is driven from its course
By the opposing tide.
@3Tantalus.@1 Whatever thwarts
Or hinders thee, o'ercome; see what rewards
Are waiting thy return. Thou mayst be king.
@3Thyestes.@1 Since I can die.
@3Tantalus.@1 The very highest power—
@3Thyestes.@1 Is naught, if thou hast come to wish for naught.
@3Tantalus.@1 Thy sons shall be thy heirs.
@3Thyestes.@1 No realm can have
Two kings.
@3Tantalus.@1 Does one who might be happy choose
Unhappiness?
@3Thyestes.@1 Believe me, with false name
Does power deceive; and vain it is to fear
Laborious fortunes. High in place, I feared,
Yea, feared the very sword upon my side.
How good it is to be the foe of none,
To lie upon the ground, in safety eat.
Crime enters not the cottage; without fear
May food be eaten at the humble board,
Poison is drunk from gold. I speak known truth—
Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.
The humble citizen fears not my house:
It is not on the mountain summit placed,
Its high roofs do not shine with ivory;
No watchman guards my sleep; we do not fish
With fleets, nor drive the ocean from its bed
With massive walls, nor feed vile gluttony
With tribute from all peoples; not for me
Are harvested the fields beyond the Getes
And Parthians; men do not honor me
With incense, nor are altars built for me
Instead of Jove; upon my palace roofs
No forests nod, no hot pools steam for me;
Day is not spent in sleep nor night in crime
And watching. Aye, none fears me and my home,
Although without a weapon, is secure.
Great peace attends on humble circumstance;
He has a kingdom who can be content
Without a kingdom.
@3Tantalus.@1 If a favoring god
Give thee a realm, it should not be refused,
Nor should it be desired. Thy brother begs
That thou wouldst rule.
@3Thyestes.@1 He begs? Then I must fear.
He seeks some means whereby he may betray.
@3Tantalus.@1 Full often loyalty that was withdrawn
Is given back, and true affection gains
Redoubled strength.
@3Thyestes.@1 And shall his brother love
Thyestes? Rather shall the ocean wet
The northern Bear, and the rapacious tides
Of the Sicilian waters stay their waves,
The harvest ripen in Ionian seas,
And black night give the earth the light of day;
Rather shall flame with water, life with death,
The winds with ocean join in faithful pact.
@3Tantalus.@1 What fraud dost thou still fear?
@3Thyestes.@1 All. Where may end
My cause for fear? His hate is as his power.
@3Tantalus.@1 What power has he to harm thee?
@3Thyestes.@1 For myself
I do not fear; my sons, for you I dread
My brother Atreus.
@3Tantalus.@1 Dost thou fear deceit?
@3Thyestes.@1 It is too late to seek security
When one is in the very midst of ill.
Let us begone. This one thing I affirm:
I follow you, not lead.
@3Tantalus.@1 God will behold
With favor thy design; boldly advance.

SCENE II

@3Atreus, Thyestes, Plisthenes, Tantalus, A boy.

Atreus.@1 [@3Aside.@1] At last the wild beast is within my toils:
Lo, I behold him with his hated brood.
My vengeance now is sure, into my hands
Thyestes has completely fall'n; my joy
Scarce can I temper, scarcely curb my wrath.
Thus when the cunning Umbrian hound is held
In leash, and tracks his prey, with lowered nose
Searching the ground, when from afar he scents
By slightest clue the bear, he silently
Explores the place, submitting to be held,
But when the prey is nearer, then he fights
To free himself, and with impatient voice
Calls the slow huntsman, straining at the leash.
When passion hopes for blood it will not own
Restraint; and yet my wrath must be restrained!
See how his heavy, unkempt hair conceals
His face, how loathsome lies his beard. Ah, well!
Faith shall be kept. [@3To Thyestes.@1] To see my brother's face
How glad I am! All former wrath is past.
From this day loyalty to family ties
Shall be maintained, from this day let all hate
Be banished from our hearts.
@3Thyestes.@1 [@3Aside.@1] O wert thou not
Such as thou art, all could be put aside.
[@3To Atreus.@1] Atreus, I own, I own that I have done
All thou believest; this day's loyalty
Makes me seem truly base: he sins indeed
Who sins against a brother good as thou.
Tears must wash out my guilt. See at thy feet
These hands are clasped in prayer that ne'er before
Entreated any. Let all anger cease,
Let swelling rage forever be dispelled;
Receive these children, pledges of my faith.
@3Atreus.@1 No longer clasp my knees, nay, rather seek
My warm embrace. Ye, too, the props of age,
So young, my children, cling about my neck.
And thou, put off thy raiment mean and coarse;
Oh, spare my sight, put on these royal robes
Like mine, and gladly share thy brother's realm.
This greater glory shall at last be mine:
To my illustrious brother I give back
His heritage. One holds a throne by chance,
To give it up is noble.
@3Thyestes.@1 May the gods
Give thee, my brother, fair return for all
Thy benefits. Alas, my wretchedness
Forbids me to accept the royal crown,
My guilty hand shrinks from the scepter's weight;
Let me in lesser rank unnoted live.
@3Atreus.@1 This realm recovers its two kings.
@3Thyestes.@1 I hold,
O brother, all of thine the same as mine.
@3Atreus.@1 Who would refuse the gifts that fortune gives?
@3Thyestes.@1 He who has learned how swiftly they depart.
@3Atreus.@1 Wouldst thou refuse thy brother such renown?
@3Thyestes.@1 Thy glory is fulfilled, but mine still waits:
Firm is my resolution to refuse
The kingdom.
@3Atreus.@1 I relinquish all my power
Unless thou hast thy part.
@3Thyestes.@1 I take it then.
I'll wear the name of king, but law and arms
And I shall be thy slaves, for evermore.
@3Atreus.@1 Wear then upon thy head the royal crown.
I'll give the destined victim to the gods.

SCENE III

@3Chorus.@1

Who would believe it? Atreus, fierce and wild,
Savage and tameless, shrank and was amazed
When he beheld his brother. Stronger bonds
Than nature's laws exist not. Wars may last
With foreign foes, but true love still will bind
Those whom it once has bound. When wrath, aroused
By some great quarrel, has dissevered friends
And called to arms, when the light cavalry
Advance with ringing bridles, here and there
Shines the swift sword which, seeking fresh-shed blood,
The raging war-god wields with frequent blows;
But love and loyalty subdue the sword,
And in great peace unite unwilling hearts.
What god gave sudden peace from so great war?
Throughout Mycenæ rang the crash of arms
As though in civil strife, pale mothers held
Their children to their bosoms, and the wife
Feared for her steel-armed husband, when the sword,
Stained with the rust acquired in long peace,
Unwillingly obeyed his hand. One sped
To strengthen falling walls, to build again
The tottering towers, to make fast the gates
With iron bars; and on the battlements
The pale watch waked through all the anxious night.
The fear of war is worse than war itself.
But threatenings of the cruel sword have ceased,
The trumpet's deep-toned voice at last is stilled,
The braying of the strident horn is hushed,
And to the joyous city peace returns.
So when the northwest wind beats up the sea
And from the deep the swelling waves roll in,
Scylla from out her smitten caverns roars
And sailors in the havens fear the flood
That ravening Charybdis vomits forth,
And the fierce Cyclops, dwelling on the top
Of fiery Ætna, dreads his father's rage,
Lest whelmed beneath the waves, the fires that roar
Within his immemorial chimney's throat
Should be profaned, and poor Laertes thinks,
Since Ithaca is shaken, that his realm
May be submerged; then, if the winds subside,
More quiet than a pool the ocean lies,
Scattered on every side gay little skiffs
Stretch the fair canvas of their spreading sails
Upon the sea which, late, ships feared to cut;
And there where, shaken by the hurricane,
The Cyclades were fearful of the deep,
The fishes play. No fortune long endures:
Sorrows and pleasures each in turn depart,
But pleasure soonest; from the fairest heights
An hour may plunge one to the lowest depths;
He who upon his forehead wears a crown,
Who nods and Medians lay aside the sword,
Indians, too, near neighbors of the sun,
And Dacians that assail the Parthian horse,
He holds his scepter with an anxious hand,
Foresees the overthrow of all his joy,
And fears uncertain time and fickle chance.
Ye whom the ruler of the earth and sea
Has given power over life and death,
Be not so proud, a stronger threatens you
With whatsoever ills the weaker fears
From you; each realm is by a greater ruled.
Him whom the rising sun beholds in power
The setting sees laid low. Let none confide
Too much in happiness, let none despair
When he has fallen from his high estate,
For Clotho blends the evil with the good;
She turns about all fortunes on her wheel;
None may abide. Such favoring deities
No one has ever found that he may trust
To-morrow; on his flying wheel a god
Spins our swift changing fortunes.

ACT IV

SCENE I

@3Messenger, Chorus.

Messenger.@1 Oh, who will bear me headlong through the air,
Like a swift wind, and hide me in thick cloud
That I no longer may behold such crime?
O house dishonored, whose base deeds disgrace
Pelops and Tantalus!
@3Chorus.@1 What news is thine?
@3Messenger.@1 What region can it be that I behold?
Argos and Sparta to which fate assigned
Such loving brothers? Corinth or the shores
Of the two seas? The Danube that compels
The fierce Alani frequently to flee?
Hyrcania underneath eternal snows?
Is it the wandering Scythians' changing home?
What land is this that knows such monstrous deeds?
@3Chorus.@1 Speak and declare the ill whate'er it be.
@3Messenger.@1 If I have courage, if cold fear relax
Its hold upon my members. Still I see
Th' accomplished slaughter. Bear me far from hence,
O driving whirlwind; whither day is borne
Bear me, torn hence!
@3Chorus.@1 Control thy fear, wrung heart,
What is the deed that makes thee quake with fear?
Speak and declare its author, I ask not
Who it may be, but which. Now quickly tell.
@3Messenger.@1 Upon the heights a part of Pelops' house
Faces the south; the further side of this
Lifts itself upward like a mountain top
And overlooks the city; thence their kings
May hold the stubborn people 'neath their sway.
Here shines the great hall that might well contain
An army, vari-colored columns bear
Its golden architraves; behind the room
Known to the vulgar, where the people come,
Stretch chambers rich and wide, and far within
Lies the arcana of the royal house,
The sacred penetralia; here no tree
Of brilliant foliage grows, and none is trimmed;
But yews and cypress and black ilex trees
Bend in the gloomy wood, an ancient oak
Rises above the grove and, eminent
Over the other trees, looks down on all
From its great height. Here the Tantalides
Are consecrated kings, and here they seek
Aid in uncertain or untoward events
Here hang their votive offerings, clear-toned trumps,
And broken chariots, wreckage of the sea,
And wheels that fell a prey to treachery,
And evidence of every crime the race
Has done. Here Trojan Pelops' crown is hung,
Here the embroidered robe from barbarous foes
Won. In the shade trickles a sluggish rill
That in the black swamp lingers lazily,
Like the unsightly waters of black Styx
By which the gods make oath. 'Tis said that here
The gods of the infernal regions sigh
Through all the dark night, that the place resounds
With rattling chains, and spirits of the dead
Go wailing up and down. Here may be seen
All dreadful things; here wanders the great throng
Of spirits of the ancient dead sent forth
From antique tombs, and monsters fill the place
Greater than have been known, and oft the wood
With threefold baying echoes, oftentimes
The house is terrible with mighty forms.
Nor does the daylight put an end to fear,
Night is eternal in the grove, and here
The sanctity of the infernal world
Reigns in the midst of day. Here sure response
Is given those who seek the oracle;
From the adytum with a thundering noise
The fatal utterance finds a passage out,
And all the grot reæchoes the god's voice.
Here raging Atreus entered, dragging in
His brother's sons; the altars were adorned—
Ah, who can tell the tale? The noble youths
Have their hands bound behind them and their brows
Bound with the purple fillet; incense too
Is there, and wine to Bacchus consecrate,
And sacrificial knife, and salted meal;
All things are done in order, lest such crime
Should be accomplished without fitting rites.
@3Chorus.@1 Whose hand took up the sword?
@3Messenger.@1 He is himself
The priest: He sang himself with boisterous lips
The sacrificial song, those given to death
He placed, he took the sword and wielded it;
Nothing was lacking to the sacrifice.
Earth trembled, all the grove bent down its head,
The palace nodded, doubtful where to fling
Its mighty weight, and from the left there shot
A star from heaven, drawing a black train.
The wine poured forth upon the fire was changed
And flowed red blood; the royal diadem
Fell twice, yea thrice; within the temple walls
The ivory statues wept: all things were moved
At such a deed; himself alone unmoved,
Atreus stood firm and faced the threatening gods.
And now delay at last was put aside;
He stood before the altar, sidelong, fierce
In gaze. As by the Ganges, in the woods,
The hungry tiger stands between two bulls,
Uncertain which one first shall feel his teeth—
Eager for both, now here now there he turns
His eyes and in such doubt is hungry still—
So cruel Atreus gazes on the heads
Devoted sacrifices to his rage:
He hesitates which one shall first be slain,
And which be immolated afterward;
It matters not and yet he hesitates,
And in the order of his cruel crime
Takes pleasure.
@3Chorus.@1 Which is first to feel the sword?
@3Messenger.@1 Lest he should seem to fail in loyalty
First place is given to his ancestor—
The one named Tantalus is first to fall.
@3Chorus.@1 What courage showed the youth? How bore he death?
@3Messenger.@1 He stood unmoved, no useless prayers were heard.
That cruel one hid in the wound the sword,
Pressing it deep within the victim's neck,
Then drew it forth; the corpse was upright still:
It hesitated long which way to fall,
Then fell against the uncle. Atreus then,
Dragging before the altar Plisthenes,
Hurried him to his brother: with one blow
He cut away the head; the lifeless trunk
Fell prone and with a whispered sound the head
Rolled downward.
@3Chorus.@1 Double murder thus complete,
What did he then? Spared he the other boy?
Or did he heap up crime on crime?
@3Messenger.@1 Alas!
As crested lion in Armenian woods
Attacks the herd, nor lays aside his wrath
Though sated, but with jaws that drip with blood
Follows the bulls, and satisfied with food
Threatens the calves but languidly; so threats
Atreus, so swells his wrath, and holding still
The sword with double murder wet, forgets
Whom he attacks; with direful hand he drives
Right through the body and the sword, received
Within the breast, passes straight through the back.
He falls and with his blood puts out the fires;
By double wound he dies.
@3Chorus.@1 O savage crime!
@3Messenger.@1 Art horrified? If there the work had ceased,
It had been pious.
@3Chorus.@1 Could a greater crime
Or more atrocious be by nature borne?
@3Messenger.@1 And dost thou think this was the end of crime?
'Twas its beginning.
@3Chorus.@1 What more could there be?
Perchance he threw the bodies to wild beasts
That they might tear them, kept from funeral fire?
@3Messenger.@1 Would he had kept, would that no grave might hide
The dead, no fire burn them, would the birds
And savage beasts might feast on such sad food!
That which were torment else is wished for here.
Would father's eyes unburied sons might see!
O crime incredible to every age!
O crime which future ages shall deny!
The entrails taken from the living breast
Tremble, the lungs still breathe, the timid heart
Throbs, but he tears its fibre, ponders well
What it foretells and notes its still warm veins.
When he at last has satisfied himself
About the victims, of his brother's feast
He makes secure. The mangled forms he cuts,
And from the trunk he separates the arms
As far as the broad shoulders, savagely
Lays bare the joints and cleaves apart the bones;
The heads he spares and the right hands they gave
In such good faith. He puts the severed limbs
Upon the spits and roasts them by slow fire;
The other parts into the glowing pot
He throws to boil them. From the food the fire
Leaps back, is twice, yea thrice, replaced and forced
At last reluctantly to do its work.
The liver on the spit emits shrill cries,
I cannot tell whether the flesh or flame
Most deeply groaned. The troubled fire smoked,
The smoke itself, a dark and heavy cloud,
Rose not in air nor scattered readily;
The ugly cloud obscured the household gods.
O patient Phœbus, thou hast backward fled
And, breaking off the light of day at noon,
Submerged the day, but thou didst set too late.
The father mangles his own sons, and eats
Flesh of his flesh, with sin polluted lips;
His locks are wet and shine with glowing oil;
Heavy is he with wine; the morsels stick
Between his lips. Thyestes, this one good
Amid thy evil fortunes still remains:
Thou knowest it not. But this good too shall die.
Let Titan, turning backward on his path,
Lead back his chariot and with darkness hide
This foul new crime, let blackest night arise
At midday, yet the deed must come to light.
All will be manifest.

SCENE II

@3Chorus.@1

Oh, whither, father of the earth and sky,
Whose rising puts the glory of the night
To flight, oh, whither dost thou turn thy path,
That light has fled at midday? Phœbus, why
Hast thou withdrawn thy beams? The evening star,
The messenger of darkness, has not yet
Called forth the constellations of the night,
Not yet the westward turning course commands
To free thy horses that have done their work,
The trumpet has not yet its third call given,
The signal of declining day, new night.
The plowman is amazed at the swift fall
Of supper-time, his oxen by the plow
Are yet unwearied; from thy path in heaven
What drives thee, O Apollo? What the cause
That forces from their wonted way thy steeds?
Though conquered, do the giants strive again
In war, hell's prison being opened wide?
Or does Tityus in his wounded breast
Renew his ancient wrath? The mountains rent,
Does Titan's son, Typhœus, stretch again
His giant body? Is a pathway built
By Macedonian giants to the sky,
On Thracian Ossa is Mount Pelion piled?
The ancient order of the universe
Has perished! rise and setting will not be!
Eos, the dewy mother of the dawn,
Wont to the god of day to give the reins,
Sees with amaze her kingdom overthrown,
She knows not how to bathe the wearied steeds,
Nor dip the smoking horses in the sea.
The setting sun himself, amazed, beholds
Aurora, and commands the darkness rise
Ere night is ready, the bright stars rise not,
Nor do the heavens show the faintest light,
Nor does the morn dissolve the heavy shades.
Whate'er it be would it were only night!
Shaken with mighty fear my bosom quakes,
Lest all the world to ruin should be hurled,
And formless chaos cover gods and men,
And nature once again enfold and hide
The land and sea and starry firmament.
With the upspringing of its deathless torch
Bringing the seasons, never more shall come
The king of stars and give the waiting world
Changes of summer and of winter's cold;
No more shall Luna meet the sun's bright flame
And take away the terror of the night,
And running through a briefer circuit pass
His brother's car; into one gulf shall fall
The heaped-up throng of gods.
The zodiac, pathway of the sacred stars,
Which cuts the zones obliquely, shall behold
The falling stars and fall itself from heaven.
Aries, who comes again in early spring
And with warm zephyr swells the sails, shall fall
Headlong into the sea through which he bore
Timorous Hella; and the Bull, that wears
The Hyades upon its shining brow,
Shall with himself drag down the starry Twins
And Cancer's claws; the Lion, glowing hot,
That Hercules once conquered, shall again
Fall from the skies; and to the earth she left
The Virgin too shall fall, and the just Scales,
And with them drag the churlish Scorpion.
Old Chiron, who holds fixed the feathered dart
In the Thessalian bow, shall loose his shaft
From the snapped bowstring, and cold Capricorn
Who brings the winter's cold shall fall, and break
For thee, whoe'er thou art, thy water-jug,
Thou Water-bearer; with thee too shall fall
The Fishes, last of stars; and Charles's Wain,
That never yet has sunk below the sea,
Falling shall plunge beneath the ocean wave.
The slippery Dragon, that between the Bears
Winds like a winding river, shall descend;
And, with the Dragon joined, the Lesser Bear
So icy cold, and slow Boötes too,
Already tottering to his overthrow,
Shall fall from heaven with his heavy wain.
Out of so many do we seem alone
Worthy to be beneath the universe
Buried, when heaven itself is overthrown?
In our day has the end of all things come?
Created were we for a bitter fate,
Whether we've banished or destroyed the sun.
Let lamentation cease, depart base fear;
Eager for life is he who would not die
Even though with him all the world should fall.

ACT V

SCENE I

@3Atreus.@1

High above all and equal to the stars
I move, my proud head touches heaven itself;
At last I hold the crown, at last I hold
My father's throne. Now I abandon you,
Ye gods, for I have touched the highest point
Of glory possible. It is enough.
Ev'n I am satisfied. Why satisfied?
No shame withholds me, day has been withdrawn;
Act while the sky is dark. Would I might keep
The gods from flight, and drag them back by force
That all might see the feast that gives revenge.
It is enough the father shall behold.
Though daylight be unwilling to abide,
Yet will I take from thee the dark that hides
Thy miseries; too long with merry look
Thou liest at thy feast: enough of wine,
Enough of food, Thyestes. There is need,
In this thy crowning ill, thou be not drunk
With wine. Slaves, open wide the temple doors,
And let the house of feasting open lie.
I long to see his color when he sees
His dead sons' heads, to hear his words that flow
With the first shock of sorrow, to behold
How, stricken dumb, he sits with rigid form.
This is the recompense of all my toil.
I do not wish to see his wretchedness
Save as it grows upon him. The wide hall
Is bright with many a torch; supine he lies
On gold and purple, his left hand supports
His head that is so heavy now with wine;
He vomits. Mightiest of the gods am I,
And king of kings! my wish has been excelled!
Full is he, in the silver cup he lifts
The wine. Spare not to drink, there still remains
Some of the victims' blood, the old wine's red
Conceals it; with this cup the feast shall end.
His children's blood mixed with the wine he drinks;
He would have drunken mine. Lo, now he sings,
Sings festal songs, his mind is dimmed with wine.

SCENE II

@3Atreus, Thyestes.

Thyestes.@1 By long grief dulled, put by thy cares, my heart,
Let fear and sorrow fly and bitter need,
Companion of thy timorous banishment,
And shame, hard burden of afflicted souls.
Whence thou hast fallen profits more to know
Than whither; great is he who with firm step
Moves on the plain when fallen from the height;
He who, oppressed by sorrows numberless
And driven from his realm, with unbent neck
Carries his burdens, not degenerate
Or conquered, who stands firm beneath the weight
Of all his burdens, he is great indeed.
Now scatter all the clouds of bitter fate,
Put by all signs of thy unhappy days,
In happy fortunes show a happy face,
Forget the old Thyestes. Ah, this vice
Still follows misery: never to trust
In happy days; though better fortunes come,
Those who have borne afflictions find it hard
To joy in better days. What holds me back,
Forbids me celebrate the festal tide?
What cause of grief, arising causelessly,
Bids me to weep? What art thou that forbids
That I should crown my head with festal wreath?
It does forbid, forbid! Upon my head
The roses languish, and my hair that drips
With ointment rises as with sudden fear,
My face is wet with showers of tears that fall
Unwillingly, and groans break off my song.
Grief loves accustomed tears, the wretched feel
That they must weep. I would be glad to make
Most bitter lamentation, and to wail,
And rend this robe with Tyrian purple dyed.
My mind gives warning of some coming grief,
Presages future ills. The storm that smites
When all the sea is calm weighs heavily
Upon the sailor. Fool! What grief, what storm,
Dost thou conceive? Believe thy brother now.
Be what it may, thou fearest now too late,
Or causelessly. I do not wish to be
Unhappy, but vague terror smites my breast?
No cause is evident and yet my eyes
O'erflow with sudden tears. What can it be,
Or grief, or fear? Or has great pleasure tears?

SCENE III

@3Atreus, Thyestes.

Atreus.@1 Brother, let us together celebrate
This festal day: this day it is which makes
My scepter firm, which binds the deathless pact
Of certain peace.
@3Thyestes.@1 Enough of food and wine!
This only could augment my happiness,
If with my own I might enjoy my bliss.
@3Atreus.@1 Believe thy sons are here in thy embrace.
Here are they and shall be, no single part
Of thy loved offspring shall be lost to thee.
Ask and whate'er thou wishest I will give,
I'll satisfy the father with his sons;
Fear not, thou shalt be more than satisfied.
Now with my own thy young sons lengthen out
The joyous feast: they shall be sent for; drink
The wine, it is an heirloom of our house.
@3Thyestes.@1 I take my brother's gift. Wine shall be poured
First to our fathers' gods, then shall be drunk.
But what is this? My hands refuse to lift
The cup, its weight increases and holds down
My right hand, from my lips the wine retreats,
Around my mouth it flows and will not pass
Within my lips, and from the trembling earth
The tables leap, the fire scarce gives light,
The air is heavy and the light is dim
As between day and darkness. What is this?
The arch of heaven trembles more and more,
To the dense shadows ever thicker mist
Is added, night withdraws in blacker night,
The constellations flee. Whate'er it is,
I pray thee spare my sons, let all the storm
Break over my vile head. Give back my sons!
@3Atreus.@1 Yea, I will give them back, and never more
Shalt thou be parted from them. [@3Exit.@1]

SCENE IV

@3Thyestes.@1

What distress
Seizes my reins? Why shake my inward parts?
I feel a burden that will forth, my breast
Groans with a groaning that is not my own.
Come, children, your unhappy father calls;
Come, might I see you all this woe would flee.
Whence come these voices?

SCENE V

@3Atreus, Thyesies, Slave bearing a covered charger.

Atreus.@1 Father, spread wide thy arms, they come, they come.
Dost thou indeed now recognize thy sons?
[@3charger is uncovered.@1]
@3Thyestes.@1 I recognize my brother: Canst thou bear
Such deeds, O earth? O Styx, wilt thou not break
Thy banks and whelm in everlasting night
Both king and kingdom, bearing them away
By a dread path to chaos' awful void?
And, plucking down thy houses, fallest thou not,
O city of Mycenæ, to the ground?
We should already be with Tantalus!
Earth, ope thy prisons wide on every side;
If under Tartarus, below the place
Where dwell our kinsmen, rests a lower deep,
Within thy bosom let a chasm yawn
Thitherward, under all of Acheron
Hide us; let guilty souls roam o'er our heads
Let Phlegethon that bears its fiery sands
Down through its glowing channels, flow o'er me!
Yet earth unmoved lies but a heavy weight,
The gods have fled.
@3Atreus.@1 Take, rather, willingly
Those whom thou hast so long desired to see;
Thy brother does not hinder thee. Rejoice;
Kiss them, divide thy love between the three.
@3Thyestes.@1 This is thy compact? This thy brother's faith?
Is this thy favor? Layst thou thus aside
Thy hate? I do not ask to see my sons
Unharmed; what wickedness and deathless hate
May give, a brother asks: grant to my sons
Burial; give them back, thou shalt behold
Straightway their burning. Lo, I ask thee naught,
The father will not have but lose his sons.
@3Atreus.@1 Thou hast whate'er remains, whate'er is lost.
@3Thyestes.@1 And do they furnish food for savage birds?
Are they destroyed by monsters, fed to beasts?
@3Atreus.@1 Thyself hast banqueted upon thy sons,
An impious feast.
@3Thyestes.@1 'Tis this that shamed the gods!
This backward drove the daylight whence it came!
Me miserable! What cry shall I make,
What wailing? What words will suffice my woe?
I see the severed heads, the hands cut off,
Greedy and hungry, these I did not eat!
I feel their flesh within my bowels move;
Prisoned, the dread thing struggles, tries to flee,
But has no passage forth; give me the sword,
Brother, it has already drunk my blood:
The sword shall give a pathway to my sons.
It is denied? Then rending blows shall sound
Upon my breast. Unhappy one, refrain
Thy hand, oh, spare the dead! Who e'er beheld
Such hideous crime? Not wandering tribes that dwell
On the unkindly Caucasus' rough cliffs,
Or fierce Procrustes, dread of Attica.
Behold, the father feasts upon his sons,
The sons lie heavy in him—is there found
No limit to thy base and impious deeds?
@3Atreus.@1 Crime finds a limit when the crime is done,
Not when avenged. Even this is not enough.
Into thy mouth I should have poured the blood
Warm from the wounds; thou shouldst have drunk the blood
Of living sons. My hate betrayed itself
Through too much haste. I smote them with the sword,
I slew them at the altar, sacrificed
A votive offering to the household gods,
From the dead trunks I cut away the heads,
And into tiniest pieces tore the limbs;
Some in the boiling pot I plunged, and some
I bade should be before a slow flame placed;
I cut the flesh from the still living limbs,
I saw it roar upon the slender spit,
And with my own right hand I plied the fire.
All this the father might have better done:
All of my vengeance falls in nothingness!
He ate his sons with impious lips indeed,
Alas, nor he nor they knew what he did!
@3Thyestes.@1 Hear, O ye seas, stayed by inconstant shores;
Ye too, ye gods, wherever ye have fled,
Hear what a deed is done! Hear, gods of Hell,
Hear, Earth, and heavy Tartarean night
Dark with thick cloud! Oh, listen to my cry!
Thine am I, Hell, thou only seest my woe,
Thou also hast no star. I do not make
Presumptuous prayer, naught for myself I ask—
What could be given me? I make my prayer
For you, my sons. Thou ruler of the heavens,
Thou mighty king of the ethereal courts,
Cover the universe with horrid clouds,
Let winds contend on every side, send forth
Thy thunders everywhere; not with light hand,
As when thou smitest with thy lesser darts
Innocent homes; but as when mountains fell
And with their threefold ruin overwhelmed
The Giants—use such power, send forth such fires,
Avenge the banished day, where light has fled
Fill up the darkness with thy thunderbolts.
Each one is evil,—do not hesitate—
Yet if not both, I sure am base; seek me
With triple dart, through this breast send this brand:
If I would give my sons a funeral pyre
And burial, I must give myself to flames.
If nothing moves the gods, if none will send
His darts against this sinful head, let night,
Eternal night, abide and hide the crime
In everlasting shadows. If thou, Sun,
No longer shinest, I have naught to ask.
@3Atreus.@1 Now in my work I glory, now indeed
I hold the victor's palm. I would have lost
My crime's reward unless thou thus wert grieved.
I now believe my sons were truly mine—
Now may I trust again in a chaste bed.
@3Thyestes.@1 What evil have my children done to thee?
@3Atreus.@1 They were thy sons.
@3Thyestes.@1 The children of their sire—
@3Atreus.@1 Undoubted sons; 'tis this that makes me glad.
@3Thyestes.@1 I call upon the gods who guard the right
To witness.
@3Atreus.@1 Why not call upon the gods
Who guard the marriage-bed?
@3Thyestes.@1 Who punishes
A crime with crime?
@3Atreus.@1 I know what makes thee mourn:
Another first accomplished the grim deed,
For this thou mournest; thou art not distressed
Because of thy dread feast, thou feelest grief
That thou hast not prepared such feast for me.
This mind was in thee: to provide like food
For thy unconscious brother, and to slay
My children with their mother's aid. One thing
Withheld thee—thou believedst they were thine.
@3Thyestes.@1 Th' avenging gods will come and punish thee;
To them my prayers commit thee.
@3Atreus.@1 To thy sons
I give thee over for thy punishment.




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