T ROJ AN W O M EN

E U R I PI D ES

T R ANS L AT E D INT O EN G LI S H R HY MING ‘

! ER SE
WIT H E XP L ANA T OR Y NO TES BY

G I LB E R T M U R R AY ,
LL D . D LI T T
. .

RI G I US P RO F ESS O R OF G E I I
E K I N T H E U N ! E RS T Y O F OXF ORD

N E W Y OR K

OX F OR D UN IVE R S ITY P R ESS

L ON D ON , O
T R ON T O, M E L B OU R N E , AN D B OM B AY
 T H E T R OJ A N WO M E N
IN his clear preface G i l bert Murray says with
,

truth that The Tr oj an Wo m en valued by the ,

usage of the stage is not a perfect play

, It is o nly .

t h e crying of one of the great wrongs of th e world

wrought into music Yet it is one of the greater

.

dramas of the elder world I n one situation with .

,

little movement with f ew figu res it flashes out a

, ,

great dramati c lesson the infinite pathos of a suc

,

cess f u l wrong I t has in it the very soul of the tragic

. .

It even goes beyond the limited tragic and hints that ,

beyond the defeat may come a greater glo ry than will

be the fortune of the vi ctors An d thus through its .

pity and terror it purifies our souls to th o ughts o f

peace .

Great art has no limits o f lo cality or time I ts .

tidings are timeless and its messages are universal

, .

Th e Tr o ja n Wo m en was first performed in 4 1 5

B C
. . from a story of the siege of Troy whi ch even
,

then was an cient histo ry B ut the pathos of it is as.

modern to us as it was to the Athenians The terro rs .

of war have not changed in three thousand years .

Euripides had that to say of war whi ch we have to s ay

of it to day and had learned that which we are even
-
,

now learning that when most triumphant it brings

,

as much wretchedness to th e vi ctors as to the van

!

qu i s hed In this play the great conquest seems to

.

!
be a gre at j oy and is in truth a great mi se ry The .
 THE TROJAN WO M E N

tragedy of war has in no essential altered T h e god .

Poseidon mourns over Troy as he might over th e

cities of to day w h en he cries
-
,

How are ye blind ,

Ye treaders down of cities ye that c ast ,

Temples to desolation and lay waste ,

Tombs t h e untrodden san c tuaries where lie

,

The ancient dead ; yourselves so soon to die !

To the c ities of this present day might the p ro ph

etes s C assandra speak h er message !

Would ye be wise ye C ities fly from war !

, ,

Yet if war come th ere is a c rown in death

,

For her th at striveth well an d perisheth

U nstained ! to die in evil were the s tain !

A throb of human sympathy as if with one of our

sisters of to day comes to us at the end when the
-
,

city is destroyed and its queen would throw herself ,

living into its flames To be of the a ction of this

, .

play the imagination needs not to travel back over

three th o usand years of history I t can simply leap .

a thousand leagues of ocean .

If ever wars are to be ended the imagination of ,

man must end them To the common mind in Spite

.
,

of all its horrors there is still something glorious in

,

war. P reachers have preached against it in vain ;

eco nomists have argued against its wastefulness in
vain The imagination of a great poet alone can
.

fi nally show to the imagination of the world that

ev en the glories of war are an empty delusion .

Euripides shows us as the centre of his drama

, ,

2
 T H E TROJAN WO M E N

women batte red and broken by in co nceivable torture

— the widowed Hecuba Andromache with her child
,

dashed to death C assandra ravished and made m a d

,

yet does he show that theirs are the unconquered and

uncon querable spirits The victoriou s men flushed
.
,

with pride hav e remorse and m o ckery d ealt out to

,

the m by those they fough t for and go forth to u n

,

pitied death Never surely can a great tragedy seem

.

more real to us or purge our souls more truly of th e

,

unreality of our thoughts and feelings concerning vital

issues than can The Troj a n Wo men at this mo
,

m e nt of the history of th e world .

F RAN C IS HO! EY STODDARD.

May t he firs t 1 9 1 5
, .
 I N T RO D U CT O R Y N O T E

JUDGED by c om mon st an dards the Troizd es i s far from

'

a perfect pl ay ; it is sc arc ely even a goo d p lay I t .

i s an i n tense st udy of o n e great si t uation with little ,

plot little con s truction little or no re li e f o r va ri ety

, , .

Th e o nly m ov ement of the drama i s a gr a du al ex

t i ngui s h i ng o f all the familiar lights o f human l if e ,

with perhap s a t the end a suggestion that in th e

, , ,

utte rn ess o f n ight when all fears of a po ss ib le w o rse

,

thing ar e p assed there is in som e se n se p eace and

,

eve n gl o ry B ut the s ituation it se l f has a t l east this

.

dr am atic valu e that it is di fferent fr om Wh at i t see m s

, .

Th e c o n summation of a great c onqu es t a thing ,

celebrated in p aeans and th anksgi v ings the ve ry height ,

of the day dreams of unregenerat e ma n—i t s ee m s t o be

-

a great j oy and it is in truth a gre at m i se ry It is

,
.

c o n qu es t se e n when the thrill of battl e i s ove r a nd ,

n o thing remain s but to wait and thi n k We f eel i n .

th e backgro u n d the pre se n ce of the c onqu e r ors s ini s t e r ,

and di sapp o i n ted phantoms ; of th e c o n qu e re d m en ,

a ft e r l on g to rme nt now resting i n d eath B ut th e

,
.

l iving dra ma for Euripides lay in th e conquer e d w omen .

I t i s from the m that he has named his pl ay an d built

up hi s s ch e m e o f parts ! four fi gures clea rly l it and
h e roic the o th e rs in varying grad es o f ch a r acte ri sa tion
, ,

n ame le ss and barely arti cu late m er e hal f h ea rd vo ice s

,
-

o f an e t e rnal so rrow .

5
 I NTRO DU CTO RY N OTE

Indeed the most usual cond emnation of the play

,

i s not that it is dull but that it is too h arrowing ;

,

that scene after s cene passes beyond the due limits of

tragic art There are points to be pleaded against
.

this c riti cism The very beauty of the most fearful

.

scene s in spite of their fearfulness is one ; the q uick

, ,

comfort of the lyri cs is another falling like a spell of ,

peace when the strain is too hard to bear ( cf p . .

B ut the main defen ce is th at like many of the great ,

est works o f art th e Trod d es is something more than

,

art I t is also a prophe cy a bearing of witness And

.
,
.

t h e prophet bound to deliver his message walks o ut

, ,

side the regular ways Of th e artist .

For some time before the Tro czd es was produced

''

Athens now entirely in the hands of the War Party

, ,

had been engaged in an enterprise wh ich though on ,

military grounds defensible was bitterly resented by ,

th e more humane minority and has been selec ted by ,

Thu cydides as the great cru c ial c rime of the war .

She had su cceeded in compelling the neutral Dorian

island of M élos to take up arms against her and after ,

a long siege had conquered the quiet and immemori

ally ancient town massacred the men and sold the
,

women and children into slavery M élos fell in th e .

autumn of 4 1 6 T h e Tr oéi d es was produced in

the following spring And while the gods of the .

prologue were prop h esying destru c tion at sea for th e

s ackers of Troy the fleet of the sackers of M élos
, ,

flushed with conquest and marked by a slight but u m

forgettable taint of sacrilege was act ually preparing ,

to set sail for its fatal enterprise against Si c ily .

Not of course that we h ave in the Tro dd es a case

‘

, ,

of politi cal allusion Far from it Euripide s does not

. .

6
 I NTRODUCTO RY NOTE

mean M élos
when he says Troy nor mean Alcibiade s ,
’

fleet when he S peaks of Agamemnon s B ut h e writes ’

.

under the influence of a year which to him as to ,

Thucydides had been filled full of indignant pity and

,

o f dire foreboding This tragedy is perhaps in Euro

.
,

pean literature the first great expression of the spirit

,

of pity for mankind exalted into a moving principle ;

a prin c iple which has made the most precious and ,

possibly the most destru ctive elements of innumerable ,

rebellions revolutions and martyrdom s and of at least

, , ,

two great religions .

Pity is a rebel passion Its hand is against the .

strong against the organised force of so ciety against

, ,

conventional sanctions and accepted Gods I t is t he .

Kingdom of H eaven W ithin us figh ting against the

brute powers of the world ; and it is apt to h ave those
qualities of unreason of contempt for th e counting of
,

costs and the balancing of sacrifices of re cklessness and , ,

even in the last resort of ruthlessness whi ch so often

, , ,

mark the paths of heavenly things and the doings of

the children of light It brings not peace but a sword
. ,
.

So it was with Euripides The Tro a d es itself has .

indeed almost no fiercenes s and singularly little though t

of revenge I t is only the crying of one of the great
.

wrongs of the world w rought into music as it were , ,

!
and made beautiful by the most tragic of the poets .

B ut its author lived ever after in a deepening atmos

p h er e of strife and even of hatred dow n to the day ,

when ,
be cause almost all in Athens rej oiced at his
!

su ff ering he took his way to the remote valleys of

,
!

Mac e don t o write th e B acchae and t o die .

G M . .
T R OJ A N WO M E N
 C H ARAC T E RS I N T H E PLAY

T H E G OD P OSEI DON .

T H E GODDESS P ALLAs A TH ENA .

H ECU BA ! ueen o f Troy, wi f e o f P ri a m, moth er of H ector a nd

P a ri s .

CASSANDRA, d a ug h ter f H e cu b a
o , a proph etes s .

A NDROM ACH E, w i f e o f H ector , P ri n ce o f Troy .

HEL EN, wi f e o f M ene la us K i ng , f

o Spa rta ; ca rr edi 0 5 by
P a ri s , P ri nce of Troy .

T ALTH YB I U S, H era ld of th e G reeks .

M ENELAU s ,
K i ng of S pa rta a nd , , to ge th er wi th hi s broth er
A ga me mn o n, G enera l o f th e G re e ks .

SOLDI ERS ATTE NDANT ON T ALTHYB I U S A ND M EN EL AU S .

C H ORU S OF CA P TI! E T ROJ A N WOM EN ,

YOU NG A ND OLD,

M AIDEN A ND MARRI ED .

Th e Troa d es w a s firs t a cted i n the yea r 4 1 5 Th e firs t

pri z e wa s w o n by Xe n o cl es , w h o ev er h e may h a v e b een wi th .

th e f o ur pla ys Oed i pus , Ly ca on B a cch a e a n d A th a ma s

’

a , ,

S a tyr-pl ay Th e s e con d by E uri pi d es w i th th e A l exa nd er

.
,

P a la med es , Troa d es a nd S i s yph us , a S a tyr-play —A BLI A N,

‘

! a ri a Hi s tori a , II 8 . .
 TH E T R OJ AN WO M E N
Th e s ce n e re p res e n ts a b a tt l efie ld , f ew d ays af ter t he
a

b a tt l e . A t t h e b a ck a re t h e wa l ls of Tr o y p a r ti a l l y ,

i
r u n ed . In fro n t of t he m, to r ig h t a nd lef t , are

s o me h u ts , c o n ta i n i ng t h o s e of t h e Ca p ti ve W o m en

w h o ha v e b een s p eci a l ly s et a p a rt f o r the c hi e f

G ree k l ea d ers . At o n e s id e s o m e d ea d b o d i es o f
a r m ed mn
e a re v i s ible . In fro n t a ta l l w o m a n wi t h
w h i t e h a i r i s l yi n g on t h e g r o u n d as l e e p .

I t is t he d us k o f ea r ly d a w n b efo re , s u n ri s e . Th e fig
u re o f t he god P O S EIDON i s d i m ly s e en b ef o re t he

wa lls .

P O S E ID O N .

U p fro m Aegean caverns poo l by pool ,

O f blue salt s ea w h ere feet most beautiful

,

Of Nere I d maidens weave beneath the foam

Th eir long sea—dances I their lo rd am come , , , ,

Poseidon of the Sea Twas I w h ose power .

’
,

With great Apollo builded tower by tower ,

These walls o f Troy ; and still my care doth stand

True to the an cient People of my hand ;
Wh ich now as smoke is perished in th e sho ck ,
’
O f Argive spears Down from Parnas sus rock .

The Greek Epeios came of P ho cian seed , ,

An d wrought by P all as mysteries a Steed

’

Marvello us big with arms ; and through my w al l

,

I t passed a death fraught image magi cal

,
-
.

I I
 E U RI PI DE S

The groves are empty and the san ctuaries

Run red with blood U nburied Priam lies .

’
B y h i s own hearth on God s h igh altar stair ,
-
,

And Ph rygian gold goes forth and raiment rare

To t h e Argi ve sh ips ; and weary s oldiers roam
Waiting the wind th at blows at las t for h ome ,

For wives and ch ildren left long years away , ,

’
B eyond the seed s tenth fullness and decay ,

To work thi s land s undoing ’

.

And for me ,

Since Argive Hera co nqueret h an d she ,

Who wrough t with H era to th e Ph rygi an s wo e ’

,

Pallas behold I bow mine head and go

, ,

Forth from great Ilion and mine altars old .

Wh en a still city lieth in the hold

O f De s olation all God s spirit there
,
’

Is sick and turns from worsh ip — H earken where .

The ancient River wai l eth with a voice

O f many women po rti o ned by t h e ch oice
,

O f war amid n ew lords as the lots leap ,

For Thess aly or Argos or t h e steep

, ,
’
O f Theseus Ro ck And oth ers yet th ere are.
,

H igh women ch osen from t h e waste of war

,

For t he great kings beh ind these portals h i d ; ,

And with them th at Laconian T yn d ari d ,

Helen like th em a prisoner and a pri z e

, .

And th is un happy one— would any eyes

Gaze no w on H e cuba ! H ere at th e Gates
’
She lies mid many tears for many fates
O f wrong One child beside Ach illes grave
.
’

In secret slain Polyxena th e brave

, ,

Lies bleeding Priam and his sons are gone ;

.

And 10 Cass an dra she the Cho se n One

, , , ,

I2
 T H E TROJAN WOME N

Whom Lo rd Apollo spared to wal k her w ay

A swift and vir gin spirit o n this day ,

L ust hath her and she go eth garlanded

,

A b ride of wrath to Agamemnon s bed ’

.

!He t urn s t o g o ; a nd a n o t h er d i vi ne P res ence

b eco m es v is i b le i n t h e d us k . I t is t he

AT H E NA
g o dd es s P A LLA s .

O happy long ago farewell farewell

, , ,

Ye shinin g towers and mine old citadel ;

B roken by Pallas C hild of G o d or still
, ,

Thy roots had held thee true .

PA LLA S .

Is it the will
’
O f God s high B rother to whose hand is given
,

Great p o wer o f old and wors h ip of all H e aven

, ,

To suff er speech from one whose enmities

This d ay are cast aside !

P O S EIDON .

H i s will it is
Kindred and long companionship withal ,

Most high Athena are thin gs magi c al

,
.

P A LLA s .

B lest be thy gen tle mood — Methinks I see

A ro a d of c omfo rt h ere for th ee and me
, .

POS EID ON .

Thou h as t so me counsel o f the Gods or word ,

Spo ken of Zeus ! O r is it tidings heard

From some far Spirit !
I 3
 E U RIPIDE S

P ALLA s .

’
For thi s Ilion s s ake ,

Whereon we tread I seek thee and w o uld make

, ,

My h and as thine .

P O S E IDON .

H ath that o ld hate and d ee p

Failed where s h e
,
lieth in her ash en sleep !
Th ou p i ti es t her !

P A LLA s .

Spe ak fi rst ; wilt thou be on e

In heart with me and h and till al l be done !

POS EIDON .

’
Yea ; but lay bare thy heart Fo r this land s sake
.

Th o u Co mest not for Hellas !

,

P A LLA S .

I would ma ke
Mine ancient enemie s lau gh for j oy and b ring ,

On these Greek shi p s a bitter h omecoming .

POS EIDON .

’
Swift is thy spirit s path strange withal
,
and ,

And hot thy lov e and hate where er they fall

,
’
.

P A LLAS .

A de ad l y wr ong they did me yea within ,

Mine ho ly place ! th o u knowe s t !

14
 E U RIP IDE S

To m e his levi n light he p ro mi se th

-

O er ships and men fo r s courging and ho t d eath

’
,

Do thou m ake wild the roads of t he sea and s teep ,

With war of waves and yawning of the deep ,

Till d ea d m e n choke Eubo ea s curling bay ’

.

So Gre ece sh all dread even in an after day

‘

My hous e nor sco rn th e Watchers of str an ge l an d s !

,

POS E IDON .

I gi ve thy bo o n unb artered These min e h an d s

.

Sh al l stir the waste Aegean ; ree fs th at cro ss

The Delian pathways j ag torn Myoo no s
,
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,

Scyr os an d Lemnos yea and sto rm driven

, ,
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Caphéreus with the bones of drown e d men

Sh all glut h im —G o thy ways an d bid th e Sir e ,

Yield to thin e hand the arrow s of his fi re .

Th e n wait thine hour when the last ship sh all wind

,

H e r cable coil fo r home ! ! Exi t P A LLAS .

H ow a re ye blind ,

Ye tre a ders down of cities ye that cas t ,

T em ple s to desolation and lay waste

,

To mb s the untrod den sanctuaries where li e

,

The an cient dead ; yourselves so so on to die !

! Exi t P os EIDON .

Th e day s l owly d awns ! H E CU B A wa kes .

H E CU B A .

U p from the earth 0 weary head !

,

Thi s is not Troy about abo ve , ,

N o t Troy no r we the lords thereo f

, .

Th o u breaking n eck be s t rengt henéd l

,

I 6
 TH E TROJ A N WOM EN
Endure and chafe not The winds rave .

An d falter D o wn th e world s wide road

.
’
,

Float float where streams the breath of God ;

,

Nor turn thy prow t o b reast the wave .

Ah woe ! For wh at woe lacketh here !

My children lo s t my land my lord , ,
.

O th ou great wealth of glory s tored ,

O f old in Ilion year by year ,

We watched and wert thou nothingn ess !

What is there th at I fear to say !
And yet what help !
,
Ah well a—
day ,
-
,

Thi s ache of lying com fortless ,

And haunted ! Ah my side my brow , ,

And temples ! All with changeful pain

My body ro cketb and would fain ,

M ove to th e tune o f tears that flow

For tear s are music too and keep ,

A s ong unheard in hearts th at weep .

! She ri s es a nd ga z es t owa rd s t h e G reek

far o ff on t h e s h o re .

O ships 0 crowding faces

,

O f ships 0 hurrying beat ,

O f oars as o f crawling feet ,

How found ye our holy places !

Th readin g the narrows through ,

Out from the gulfs of the Greek ,

Out to the clear dark blue ,

With hate ye came and with joy ,

And t he noise of your mu s ic flew ,

C l a rion and p ipe did shriek ,

I 7
 E U RIPIDE S

As the coile d cords ye th rew ,

Held in th e heart of Troy !

Wh at so ugh t ye th en th at ye came !
A woman a th ing abh orred
,

A King s wife th at h er lord

’

’
H ateth ! and Castor s shame
Is h o t for h er sake and the reed s ,

O f old Eu rOt as stir

With t he noise of the name o f her .

She slew mine ancient King ,

The Sower o f fifty Seeds ,

A n d cast forth mine and me ,

As sh ipwrecked men th at cling ,

To a reef in an empty sea .

Who am I th at I sit
’
H ere at a Greek king s doo r ,

Yea in the dust of it !

,

A slave that men drive before ,

A wom an that h ath no home ,

Weeping al one for her dead ;

A low and bruis e d h ead ,

And th e glory struck th erefrom .

! She s ta rts up fro m h er s ol i ta ry b ro o di ng ,

a n d ca lls t o t h e o t h er Tr o j a n Wo men

i n t h e h a ts .

O Mothers of the B raz en Spear ,

And maidens maidens brides of shame

, , ,

Troy is a smoke a dying flame ;

,

Together we will weep for her

I call ye a s a wide wi ng’ d bird -

Calleth th e children of her fold ,

I 8
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

T o cry ah not the cry m e n h eard

, ,

I n I li o n not the songs of old

, ,

Th at e ch oe d when my hand wa s true

’
On Priam s sceptre and my feet ,

To uch e d on the stone on e sign al be at ,

And o ut the Dardan mu s ic rolled ;

’
And Troy s great God s gav e e a r thereto .

! The d oor of o n e of the huts o n t he r ig h t

op ens a nd t he Wo men s tea l ou t s e ver
,

a lly s ta r t l ed a nd afra id
, .

FI RST WOMAN .

St raph e I .

’
How say s t thou ! Whither m oves thy cry ,

Thy bitter cry ! B ehind our door

We heard thy heavy heart outpo ur
It s so rrow ! and th ere shivered by
Fe ar and a quick sob shaken
F r om pri so n e d heart s that sh al l b e fr e e no m o r e !
H E CUB A .

C hil d ti s th e ships that stir upon th e shore

,
’

SEC OND WOMAN .

Th e ship s the ships aw aken ! ,

T H IRD WOMAN .

Dear G o d what would they ! Overseas

,

B ear me a far to strange citie s !

H E CU B A .

Nay chi l d I kn ow not Dream s a re these

, ,
.
,

Fears of th e hope fo r saken -

.

FIR ST WOMAN .

Awake , 0 d aughters o f affl icti o n , w ake

And le a rn yo ur lo ts ! Even n o w the Argive s bre ak
Their c am p for s ail i n g !
I 9
 E U RIPI DE S

H E CU B A .

Ah not C assandra ! Wake not h er

,

Wh om God h ath madd ened lest th e foe ,

Mock at h er dreaming Leave me clear .

From th at one edge of woe .

0 Troy my Troy th ou diest h ere

, ,

Most lo nely ; and most lonely we

T h e living wander forth from thee ,

And t he dead leave thee wailing !

! On e of the h u ts o n t h e l eft i s n ow o p en a nd ,

t h e res t o f t h e C H OR U S co m e o u t s ever

a l ly . Th ei r n u mb er even tual ly a m o u nts

to fifteen .

FO U RTH WOMAN .

! A n ti s t r o p h e I .

Out of the tent o f th e Greek king

I steal my Queen with trembling breath
, ,

Wh at means thy call ! Not death ; not death !

They would not slay so low a thing !
FI FTH WOMAN .

,
’
O tis the ship folk crying -

To deck the galleys ! and we p a rt we part ! ,

H ECU BA .

Nay daughter ! take the morning to thine h e art

, .

F IFTH WOMAN .

My heart wi th dread is dying !

SIXTH WOMAN .

An herald from the Greek hath come !

F I FT H WOMAN .

H ow h ave they cas t me and to whom ,

A bondmaid !
H E CU B A . Peace ch ild ! wait t h y doom , .

Our lots are near the trying .

 TH E TROJAN WO MEN

FO U RTH W OMAN .

Argos b el ike or Phthia sh all it b e

, , ,

O r so me lone isl and o f the toss ing sea ,

Far f ar from Tro y ! ,

H E CU B A .

An d I th e age d where go I , ,

A winter fro z en bee a slav e-

,

De ath shapen as the stone s th at l i e

-
,
’
H ewn on a dead m an s gr av e
Th e children o f m ine en e my
T o fos te r or keep watch befo r e
,

’
The threshold o f a mas ter s d oo r ,

I that was Queen I n Tr o y !

A WOMAN To A N OTH ER .

! Strop he 2 .

An d th o u , what t e ars can t ell thy d oo m !

T H E O TH ER .

Th e shuttle still shal l flit and ch an ge

B eneath m y fi ngers but the loo m , ,

Si ste r be strange , .

A NOTH ER ( wi ld ly ) .

Lo o k my dead child ! My chi l d my love

, , ,

The las t loo k .

ANOTH ER . Oh th e r e come th worse , .

’
A Gree k s bed in the dark .

A NOTH ER . God curse

Th a t night and all th e pow e rs ther eo f !
21
 E U R IPI DE S

A NOTH ER .

Or pitchers to an d fro to bear

To some Pire n e on t he h ill ,

Where th e pro ud water craveth still

Its broken hearted minister
-
.

A NOTH ER .

’
God guide me yet to Theseus land ,

T h e gentle land t h e famed afar ,

A NOTH ER .

B ut not the hungry foam— Ah never ,

O f fi erce Eurotas Helen s river

’
, ,

To bow to M enelau s hand ’

,

That wasted Troy with war !

A WOMAN .

! An ti st rop he 2.

They told us of a land high born -

,

Where glimmers round Olym pus roots ’

A lordly river red with corn

,

And burdened fruit s .

A NOTH ER .

Aye that were next in my desire

,

To Athens where good spirits dwell

,

AN OTH ER .

’
Or Aetna s breast t h e deeps o f fire
,

That front th e Tyrian s C itadel ’

First mother she o f Si cily

, ,

And mighty mountains ! fam e h ath told

Their c rowns o f goodness manifold .

A NOTH ER .

And close beyond the narrowing sea

, ,

A Sister land wh ere float en ch anted

,

Ionian summit s wave on wave

, ,

22
 E U RI PI DE S

H E C U BA .

Say then what lot hath any ! W h at of jo y

Fall s or can fall on any child of Troy !
, ,

TA LTHY B I U S .

I know ! but make thy questions s everal ly .

H ECU B A .

My stri cken one must be

Still fi rst Say how Cassan dra s porti on l i es
’
. .

TA LT HY B I U S .

’
Ch ose n from all for Agam emnon s pri z e !

H EC UB A .

How for his Spartan b rid e

,
’ ’
A tirewoman ! For Helen s sister s pride !

TA LTHY B I U S .

Nay nay ! a bride herself for the King s bed

, ,
’
.

H ECU B A .

The sainted of Apollo ! And her own

Prize th at God promi se d
Out of the golden clo uds her virgin crown !
,

TA LTHY B I U S .

He loved h e r for that same strange holiness .

H E CUB A .

Daughter away away, , ,

C ast all away ,

The h aunted Keys the lo nely stole s array

,
’

Th a t kept thy body like a sacred place !

24
 TH E TR OJAN WO M E N

TA LTHY B I U S .

’
I s t n o t r a re fortune that the King hath s m i l ed
O n s u ch a mai d !
H EC U B A .

What o f that other child

Ye re ft fro m me but now !
T A LTI-I YB I U S ( s p eaki ng wi t h s o me cons trai nt ) .

Pol yxena ! O r wh at child m eanes t th o u !

H E CU B A.

Th e same . Wh a t m an no w hath h e r or wh a t d oom !

,

TA LTHY B I U S .

’
She r est s ap art, to watch Achilles tomb .

H E CU B A .

To w atch a to mb ! My dau ghter ! What i s this !

Speak F riend ! What fashion of th e l aw s o f Greece !
,

TA LT HY B I U S .

Co u n t thy m ai d h appy ! Sh e hath naugh t o f il l

T o f ear
H E CU B A .

Wh at me an est thou ! Sh e li ve th stil l !

T A LT HY B I U S .

I mean sh e hath one toil that holds her free

,

F ro m all to il else .

H E C UB A .

Wh at of Andromac h e ,

Wi fe o f m in e iron hearted Hector wher e

-
,

h s he !
J o urneyet
 E U RI PI DE S

TA LTHY B I U S .

Pyrrhus Achilles so n hath t aken h er

’
.
, ,

H ECUB A .

And I wh ose slave am I

, ,

The shaken head t h e arm that c reepeth by

, ,

Sta ff crutch e d like to fall !

-
,

T A LT HYB I U S .

’
Odysseu s Ithaca s king hath thee for thrall
, , .

H ECUB A .

B eat beat the crownles s head

,

Rend th e ch eek till th e tears run red !

A lying man and a pitiless
Shall be lord of me a h eart full flo wn
,
-

With scorn o f righ teousness

0 h eart of a be ast wh ere law is none ,

Wh ere all things ch ange so th at lu s t be fed ,

The oath and the d eed th e right and the wrong , ,

Even th e hate of the fork e d tongue !

Even t h e hate turns and is cold ,

F alse as the love that was false o f old !

0 Women of Troy , wee p for me !

Yea I am gone ! I am gone my ways
, .

Mine is the cro wn o f misery ,

The bitterest day o f all our days .

LEAD ER .

Thy fate thou knowest Queen ! but I know no t ,

What lord of South or North h as won my lo t .

26
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

TA LTHY B I U S .

Go seek C assandra men ! M ake your best speed

, , ,

That I may leave her with t h e King and lead ,

Th ese others to th eir divers lords H a there ! .

,

What means that sudden light ! Is it the flare

O f torches !
! L ig h t i s s een s h i ni ng t h ro ugh t he crevi ces of t he
s eco n d hut on t he ri g h t . H e m o ves to
wa rd s i t .

Would they fi re their pri so n ro o ms ,

O r how th ese women — Ye s fore God the dooms

, ,
’
,

Are kn own and now they burn themselves and die

,

Rath er th an sail with us ! How savagely

In days like t h ese a free neck chafes beneath
Its burden ! Open ! Open quick ! Such death
’
Were bliss to them it may be ! but twill bring
,

Much wrath and leave me shamed before the King !

,

H ECU B A .

There is no fi re no peril ! tis my child

,
!
,

C assandra by the breath of Go d made wild

,
.

! Th e d o or o pens fro m wi th i n a nd CA SSANDRA

en t ers, w-h i t e -
ro b ed an d wrea t h ed l i ke a

P r i es tes s , a grea t t or c h i n h er h a nd . S he
i s s i ng i ng s oft ly t o h ers elf a n d d oes n o t s ee

t h e H era l d o r t he s cene b efo re h er .

CA SS ANDRA .

L ift lift it high

, ! Stroph e .

Give it to mine han d ! ‘

Lo I bear a flame
,

U nto God ! I prai s e his n ame .

I light with a burning brand

Thi s sanctuary .

27
 E U RIPI DE S

B l esse d is he that shall wed ,

And ble sse d , blesse d am I

In Argos ! a bride to l i e
’
With a king in a kin g s bed .

Hail O H yrnen red

, ,

O To rch that makest one !

Wee pest th ou Moth er mine ow n ! ,

Sure ly thy ch eek is p ale

With te ars tears th at wail ,

Fo r a land and a father de ad .

B ut I go ga rlanded !
I am th e B ride o f Desire
Th e refore my torch is born e
Lo t he li fting o f morn
'

, ,

Lo the leapin g of fire

,

For th ee O Hymen bright, ,

Fo r thee O Moon of th e De e p
, ,

So L aw hath charge d for the light ,

’
O f a maid s last sleep .

Awak e O my feet awake

,
! An tis trop he
,

Our fath er s hope is won ! ’

Dan ce as t he dancing skies

Ove r him where he lies ,

Happy beneath th e sun !

Lo th e Ring th at I make
,

! S he makes a ci rcl e ro u nd her wi t h a torch ,

a nd v i s i o ns a pp ea r t o h er .

Apo llo ! Ah is it thou ! ,

O shrine in the laurels cold ,

I b e ar thee still as of old , ,

M ine incense ! B e near to me now .

! She waves th e t orch as t h ough b eari ng i ncense .

28
 TH E TROJAN WO MEN

O Hymen Hymen fleet ,

Quick torch that makest one !

How ! Am I Still alone !
Laugh as I laugh and twine ,

In the dance 0 Mother mine ,

Dear feet be near my feet ! ,

C ome greet ye Hymen greet

, ,

Hymen with songs of pride

Sing to him lo ud and long ,

C ry c ry when the s ong

, ,

Faileth for j oy of t h e bride !

,

O Damsels girt in the gold

O f Ilion cry cry ye , , ,

For him that is do o med of old

To be lord of me !

LEAD ER .

0 hold the d am sel lest her tranc e d feet

,

Lift her afar Quee n to ward the He ll en e fleet !

, ,

H E CU B A .

0 Fire Fire where men make marriages

, ,

Surely thou h as t thy lot ; but what are these

Tho u bringes t flashing ! Torches savage wild -

And far from mine Ol d dreams — Al as my child , ,

How little dreamed I then Of wars or red

Spears o f the Greek to lay thy bridal bed !
Give me thy brand ; it hath no holy blaz e
Thus in thy fren z y flun g Nor all thy days .

Nor all thy griefs have changed th em yet nor learn ed

-
,

Wisd om —Ye w omen bear the pine half burned ,

29
 E U RI PI D E S

To th e chamber back ; and let you r drownéd e yes

Answer the music of these brid al cries !
! Sh e ta kes t he t orch a nd gives i t t o o ne of th e

w o men .

C ASS AND RA .

O Moth e r fill min e hair with happy fl owers

, ,

And s peed me forth Yea if my spirit cow e r s,

.
,

Drive me with wrath ! So liveth Lo x i as ,

A bl oo dier bride than ever Hele n w as

Go I to Agamem no n Lo rd mos t high ,

O f Hell as ! I shall kill him mother ; I ,

Shall kill him and lay waste his h o use with fi r e

,

As h e laid ours My brethren and my sire

.

Shall wi n a gain
( Check i ng hers elf ) B ut part I must let b e ,

And sp e ak not N o t the ax e that craveth me

.
,

And more than m e ; n o t the dark wanderings

O f mother murder that my b ridal brings
-
,

And all the Hous e o f Atreus d o w n down d ow n , ,

Nay I will Sh ow thee Ev e n n o w this to wn

,
.

I S h appier than the Greeks I know the power .

O f God is on me ! but this littl e h o ur ,

Wilt thou but liste n I will hold him back !

,
’ ’
One love one w om an s beauty o e r the tr ack
, ,

O f hunted H elen m a de their myri ads fall

, .

And thi s their King so wise wh o ruleth all , ,

What wrought he ! C ast o u t Lov e that H at e might

fe ed
Gav e to hi s brothe r hi s own child hi s se ed ,

30
 E U RI PI DE S

Else had his lo ve but been as oth ers are .

Would ye be wise ye C ities fly from war ! , ,

Yet i f war come there is a crown in death

,

For her that striveth well and pe risheth

U nstained ! to die in ev il were the stain !
Therefore 0 Mother pity no t thy slain
, , ,

Nor Troy nor me the bride T hy direst foe

, , .

And mine by this my woo ing is brought low .

TA LTHY B I U S ( a t las t b rea ki ng t hro ug h t he s p ell

t ha t has h eld h i m ) .

I swear had not Apollo made thee mad

, ,

Not lightly had s t th ou flung th is shower o f b ad

B o dings to speed my Genera l o er the seas !
,
’

’
Fore God the wi s doms and the greatne ss es
,

O f seeming are they hollow all as th ings

, ,

O f naught ! Th is so n of Atreus of al l kings ,

Most migh ty hath so bowed him to the love

,

O f this mad maid an d chooseth her ab ove,

All women ! B y the God s rude though I be , ,

I would not touch her h and !

Lo o k thou ; I see
T hy lip s are blind and what so words they speak
, ,

Praises o f Troy or s h am i ngs of the Greek ,

I cast to th e four W inds ! Wal k at my side

In peace ! And heaven content h i m o f his bride !
! H e m o ves as t h o ug h t o g o b ut tu rns t o ,

H ECUB A a nd s p ea ks m o re ge n tly
, .

An d th o u shalt follow to Odysseus host ’

’
When the w o rd comes Tis a wise qu e en thou .

’
go st
T o se rve and gen tle ! so the Ithacans s ay
, .

32
 T H E TROJAN WO ME N

CA SSANDRA ( s eei ng f or t he fi rs t ti me t he H erald

a n d a ll t h e s c e ne ).

How fi erce a sl ave O Heralds ,

Heralds !

Yea ,

Vo ices o f Death ; and mists are over them

’
O f dead men s anguish like a diadem , ,

These weak abhorre d thin gs that serve the h ate

O f kings and peoples !
To Ody s seus gate ’

’
My mother goeth say st thou ! Is God s word
,
’

As naugh t to me in silence ministered

, ,

That in th is place she dies ! ( To hers elf ) No

more ; no more !
Why sh ould I speak th e shame of them be fore ,

T hey co me ! Little he knows t h at h ard beset ,

-

Spirit what deeps of woe await hi m yet ;

,

Till all these tears of o urs and h arrowings

O f Troy by his Shall be as golden things
, ,
.

Ten years behind ten years athwart his way

Waiting ! and home lost and unfriended ,

Nay '

Why should Odys seus labours vex my breath ! ’

On ; h asten ; guide me to the house of Death ,

To li e beside my bridegroom !
Thou Greek King ,

Who deem s t thy fo rtune now so high a thing

’
,

Tho u dust of the earth a lowlier bed I see , ,

In darkness not in li gh t awaiting thee

, ,

And with thee with thee , there where yawneth ,

plain
A rift of th e hill s r agi ng with winter r ai n
, ,

33
 E U RIPI DE S

Dead and out cas t a nd naked -

I t is I
B eside my bridegroom ! and the wild beas ts cry ,

And ravin on God s chosen ! ’

! S he clas ps he r h a nds t o h er b row and feels t he

wrea t hs .

O ye wreaths ! ,

Ye garland s o f my God who s e love yet breathes ,

About me ; shapes of j o yance mysti cal ;

B egone ! I h ave fo rgot th e festival ,

Forgot the j oy B egone ! I tear ye so

.
, ,

From o ff me ! Out on t h e swift winds th ey go .

With flesh still clean I give th em b ack to th ee ,

Still white O God 0 ligh t th at leadest me !

, ,

! T u r n i n g u p o n t h e H e ra ld .

Where lies the gal l ey ! Whith er sh all I tread !

See that your w a tch be set your sail be spread ,
.

T h e W ind comes qui ck ! Three Powers —mark m e ,

t h ou !
There be of Hell and one walks with thee now !
,

Moth er farewell and weep not ! 0 my sweet

, ,

C ity my earth c lad breth ren and th ou great

,
-
,

Sire th at begat us ; but a little now ,

And I am with you ! yea with sh ining brow ,

I come ye Dea d and sh ining from t h e fall

, ,
’
O f Atreus H ouse t he House th at wrecked us all !
,

! S he g o es o u t f oll o we d by TA LTHY B I U S a nd t h e
,

S o ld i ers ; H E CU B A af ter wa i t i ng f o r a n ,

i ns ta n t m o t i o n l es s f a l ls , t o t h e gro un d .

LEAD ER OF C H OR U S .

The Queen ye Watch ers ! See she falls she fall s

, , , ,

Rigid without a word ! O sorry th ralls ,

34
 TH E TROJAN WOME N

Too late ! And will ye leave her d o wns t ri cken ,

A woman and so Ol d ! Raise her again !

,

! S o me wo men g o t o H EC UB A b ut s h e refus es ,

t h ei r a i d a n d s p ea ks wi t h o ut ri s i ng .

H E CU B A .

Let lie the love we seek not is no love

Th is ruined body ! Is t h e fall the reof
Too deep for all th at now is over me
O f angui s h and h ath been and yet shall be !
, ,

Ye Gods Alas ! Why call on th ings so weak

For aid ! Yet there is someth ing that doth seek ,

C rying for God when o ne of us h ath woe

, , .

O I will th ink of things gone long ago

,

An d weave them to a song like one more tear ,

In the heart of mise ry All kings we were ;

.

And I must wed a king And sons I brough t .

My lord King many s ons , nay th at were naught ; ,

B ut high strong prin ces o f all Tro y the best, .

Hellas nor Tro as nor the garnered Eas t

H eld such a mother ! And all these things beneath
The Argive spear I saw c ast down in death ,
’
And s hore these tresses at the dead men s feet .

Yea and the gardener of my garden great

, ,

I t was not any noise o f h i m nor tale

I wept for ; these eyes saw hi m wh en th e pale ,

Was broke and there at the altar Priam fell

,

Murdered and round him all h i s c itadel

,

Sa cked And my daugh ters virgins o f the fold

. , ,

Meet to be brides o f mighty kings behold , ,

Twas for the Greek I bred them ! All are gone ;

’
_

And no hope left that I sh all look upon

,

Their faces any more no r th ey on mine

,
.

35
 E U RIPI DE S

And now my feet tread on the utmost line

An old old s lave woman I pass below
,
-
,

Mine enemies gate s ; and whatso tas k they kn ow

’

For this age b as e st shall be mine ; the door , ,

B owing to shut and ope n

, I that bore .

H ecto r ! and meal to grind an d this racked head ,

B end to the stones after a royal bed ;

Torn rags about me aye and under them , ,

Torn flesh ; twill make a woman sick for s h am e !

’

’ ’
Woe s me ; and all th at one man s arms might h old
One wom an what long seas h ave o er me rolled
,
’

And roll for ever ! O my child who se white ,

’
Soul laughed amid the laugh ter of God s light ,

C as sandra what h ands and h ow strange a day

,

H ave loosed thy zone ! And th ou Polyxena , ,

Where art thou ! And my sons ! Not any seed

Of man nor woman now Sh al l help my need .

Why raise me any more ! What h ope h ave I

To hold me ! Take this slave th at on ce trod high
In Ilion ; cast her on her bed of clay
Ro ck pillowed to lie down and pass away
-
, ,

Wasted with tears And w h atso man they call

.

H appy believe not ere the last day fal l !

,

C H OR U S ! St rophe . .

O Muse be near me now and make

, ,

A strange song for Ilio n s sake ’

,

Till a tone of tears be about mine ears

And out o f my lips a music break
For Troy Troy and the end of the years
, ,

When th e wh eels of the Greek above me pressed ,

And the migh ty h orse hoofs beat my breast -

And all around were the Ar give spe ars

36
 T H E TROJAN WOMEN

A to w e ring S teed o f go lden rein

0 go ld without d a rk s t eel within
,

R amp e d in our gates ; and all th e plain

Lay silent wh e re the Gree ks had be en .

And a cry broke fro m all th e folk

Gath e r e d above o n I lion s ro ck ’

U p up 0 fear i s over now !

, ,

T o P al las who h ath saved us living

, ,

To Pa llas bear thi s v icto ry vow ! -

Th en r ose the old man from hi s r oo m ,

Th e me rry d amsel l e ft her loo m ,

And each bound de ath about his brow

With minstrel s y an d high thanksgivi n g !

! Antis trop he
.

0 , swi ft wer e al l i n Troy th a t d ay ,

An d gi rt them t o th e portal w ay , -

M arve lling at t hat mo untain Thi n g

Sm oo th-carven where the Ar giv es lay
, ,

An d wrath and I li o n s van qui shing

’
,

Meci’ gift for h e r that sp a re th not ,

’
H eaven s yokele ss Rider U p they bro ught .

Th ro u gh the steep ga tes her o ffe ring

Like some dark ship that c limb s the sh ore
On strainin g c able s up wh e r e stood
, ,

H e r ma rble throne her hallow e d floor

, ,
’
Wh o lusted fo r h e r pee ple s bl ood .

A ve ry wearin ess o f j oy
Fell with the e ven ing over Tro y
And lutes of Afric mingled th e re
With Phrygi a n so ngs ! and m an y a m a id en ,
With white feet glancin g light as ai r ,

37
 E U R IP IDE S

Mad e happy musi c through the gloom

And fire s o n many an inward room
All night broad flash i ng flung th eir glare
-
,

On l aughing eyes and slumber laden -

.

A M AI D E N .

I was among th e dancers there

To Artemis and glorying sang
,

H e r of the Hills th e Maid most fair

, ,

D aughter of Zeus ! and lo there r an g , ,

A shout out of the dark and fell ,

D ea thlike from str ee t to street an d m ad e ,

A si l ence in th e citadel
And a child c ried as i f afraid , ,

And hid him in his moth er s veil ’

.

The n s talked the Slayer from his de n ,

The hand o f Pallas served h er well !

0 bloo d blood of Troy was deep
,

About the streets and altar s then ! !

An d in the wedded rooms o f sleep ,

Lo the desolate dark alone

, ,

And h e adless th ings men stumbled o n , .

And fo rth lo the women go

, , ,

The crown o f War th e crown of Woe , ,

To b ear th e children of t h e foe

A n d w ee p weep for Ilion !
, ,

! As t h e s o ng ceas es a c h a ri o t is s e en a pp roachi ng
f ro m t h e t ow n , l a d e n wi t h s p o i ls . On i t
s i ts a m o urn i ng W o man w i th a hi ld i n
c

her arms .

38
 E U RIPI DE S

AN D . S ing sorrow .

H EC . me for me ! Fo r ,

AN D . Sing for the Great C ity ,

That falleth falleth to be

,

A shadow a fire departed

, .

A NDROMA C H E .
'

I St roph e 2.

C ome to me O my lo ver !
,

H EC . The dark sh ro u det h him over ,

My flesh woman not thine not thine !

, , ,

AN D . Make of thine arms my cover !

H E CUB A .

! Anti s trophe 2 .

O tho u wh os e wound was deepest ,

Thou that my children keepest ,

P riam Priam O age worn King

, ,
-
,

Gather me where thou sleepest .

A NDROMA C H E ( h er ha nd s u p on h er h eart ) .

! S tr o p h e 3 .

0 here i s the deep of desire ,

( H OW ! And is this not woe ! )
For a city burned with fire ;
( It bea teth blow on blow )
,
.

God s wrath for Paris thy son that he died n o t

’
, ,

long ago !

Wh o so ld for his evil love

Troy an d the towers thereof
Th e refore the d ea d men lie
Nak ed beneath the eye
,

40
 TH E TROJAN WOM E N

O f Pallas and vul tures croak

,

An d flap for j oy
So Lo ve hath laid his yoke
On the neck of Troy !

H E CU B A .

! Antis trophe 3 .

O m ine own l and my home , ,

( I weep for thee left forlorn ) , ,

’
See st thou what end is come !
( And the house where my babes were b o rn ) .

A desolate Mother we leave 0 children a C ity , ,

o f scorn
Even as the so und of a song
L eft by the way but long ,

Remembered a tune o f tears

,

Falling where no man hear s ,

I n t h e old house as rain , ,

For things loved of yore

B ut the dead hath lost his pain
And weep s n o m o re .

LEADER .

Ho w sweet are tears to them in b itter stre ss ,

And sorrow and all the songs o f heavine s s

, .

A NDROMA C H E .

Mothe r! of him of old whose mighty spear

,
’
Smot e Gre e k s like ch aff see st thou what things ar e
,

here !
H EC U B A .

I see God s h and that buildeth a gre at crown

’
,

Fo r littl e n es s an d hath cast the mighty d ow n

,
.

41
 E U RIP IDE S

A N DROMA C H E .

I and my babe are driven among t he droves

O f plun dered cattle 0 when fortune moves
.
,

So swift the high h eart like a slave beats low

, .

H ECU B A .

Tis fearful to be h elple ss Men but now

’
.

Have taken C assandra and I strove in vain , .

A NDROMA C H E .

Ah woe is me ; hath Aj ax come again !

,

B ut other evil yet is at thy gate .

H EC UB A .

Nay Daughter beyond number b eyond w e ight

, , ,

My evils are ! D oo m racet h against doom .

A N DROMA C H E .

Polyxena across Ach illes tomb ’

Lies slain a gift flung to the dreamle ss d e ad

, .

H E CUB A .

My sorrow ! ’
Tis but w h at Talthybiu s said
SO plain a riddle and I read it not
,
.

A N DRO M AC H E .

I saw her lie and stayed th is chariot ;

,

And raiment wrapt on her dead limb s and beat ,

My breas t for her .

H E CU B A ( t o hers elf ) .

O the foul sin of it !

The wickedness ! My child My child ! Aga i n .

I cry to thee How c ruelly art thou slai n!

.

42
 TH E TROJAN WOME N

A NDROMAC H E .

She hath died her death and howso dark it b e , ,

He r death is sweeter than my mi s ery .

H E CU B A .

Death cannot be what L ife is C hild ; the cup ,

Of Death is empty and L ife hath always hope

, .

A NDROMA C H E .

0 M o ther havin g ears hear thou this word

, ,

Fear con quering till thy heart as mine be stirred

-
,

With j oy T O die is only not to be ;

.

And better to be dead th an grievously

Living They have no pain they ponder not
.
,

Their own wrong B ut the living that is brought

.

From joy to h eavine s s his soul doth roam , ,

As in a desert lost from its old h ome

, , .

Thy daugh ter lieth no w as one unborn ,

Dead and naugh t knowing o f the lust and scorn

,

That slew her And I . long since I drew my

bow
Strai gh t at the heart o f good fame ; and I know
My shaft hit ; and for th at am I th e more
Fallen fro m peace All th at men praise us for
. ,

I loved for H ector s sake and sought to win

’
,
.

I knew that al way b e th ere hurt therein

,

Or utter inno cence to roam abroad ,

Hath ill report for women ; so I trod

Down the desire thereof and walked my way ,

In min e own ga rden And light word s and gay .

43
 E U RIPI DE S

Parley of women never passed my doo r .

The tho ughts of mine own h eart I craved no

more
Spoke with me and I was happy , Con s t antly .

I brought fair s ilence an d a tran quil eye

For H ector s gre eting and watched well th e w ay
’
,

Of living where to guide and where obey

,
.

And 10 ! some rumour o f this peace being gone

, ,
’
Forth to the Greek hath cursed me Achilles son,
.
,

So soon as I was taken for his th rall ,

Chose me I sh all do service in the h all

.

Of them that slew H ow ! Sh all I thrust as ide

Hector s belove d face and Open wide
’
,

My heart to this new lord ! O h I sh ould stand ,

A traitor to th e dead ! And if my h and

And flesh sh rink from him lo wrath and despite ,

O er all the house and I a slave !

’
,

One night ,

One night aye men have said it , maketh tame

A woman in a man s arms O sh ame s h ame !
’
.
,
’
Wh at woman s lips can so forswear her dead ,

And give strange kis s es in another s bed ! ’

Wh y not a dumb be as t not a colt will run

, ,

In the yoke untroubled when h er mate is gon e ,

A thing not in God s image dull unmoved

’
, ,

O f reas on 0 my Hector ! best beloved

.
,

That being mine wast all in all to me

, , ,

My prince my wise one 0 my majesty

, ,

O f valiance ! No man s touch had ever come ’

Near me when thou from out my father s home

,
’

Didst lead me an d make me thine And thou art .

dead ,

And I war flung to slavery and the bread

-

44
 T H E TROJAN WOM EN

Of sh am e in Hellas over bitter seas !

,

What know et h she of evils like to these ,

That dead Polyxena thou weepest for !

,

There liveth not in my life any more

The hope that others h ave Nor will I tell .

The lie to mine own hea rt t h at augh t is well ,

O r Shall be well Yet 0 to dream were sweet !

.
, ,

LEAD ER .

Thy feet h ave trod the pathway of my feet ,

And thy clear sorrow teach eth me mine own .

H EC U B A .

’
Lo yonder ship s ! I ne er set foot on one
, ,

B ut tales and pi ctures tell when over them ,

B reaketh a storm not all too strong to stem ,

Each man strive s hard the tiller gripped the mast

, ,

Manned th e hull baled to face it ! till at last

, ,

Too strong breaks the O erwh el m i ng sea ! 10 then

’
,

They cease and yield them up as b roken men

,

To fate a n d the wild waters Even so .

I in my many sorrows bear me low ,

Nor curse no r strive th at other things may be

,
.

The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me .

B ut O let He ctor and t he fates th at fell

, ,
’
On H ector s leep Weep for him ne er so well
, . ,

Thy weeping shall not wake h i m H onour t h ou .

The new lord that is set above th ee now ,

And make o f th ine own gentle piety

A pri z e to lure h is heart So shalt thou be .

A strength to th em th at love us and—G o d knows , ,

I t m ay be— rear thi s babe among his fo es ,

45
 E U RIPIDE S

My Hector s child to man h ood and great aid

’
,

For Ilion SO h er stones may yet be laid

.

One on anoth er if God will and wrought

, ,

Again to a city ! Ah h o w th ough t to th ought

,

Still be ckon s ! B ut what minion o f th e Gre ek

Is thi s that cometh with new words to speak !
,

! E nter TA L T HY B I U S w i t h a b a nd of S old iers .

H e co mes fo rw ard s l o wly a nd wi t h evi

d en t d i s qu i et .

TA L THY B I U S .

Spo use of the noblest heart th at beat in Troy ,

An d romach e h ate me not ! Tis not in j oy

,
’

I tell thee B ut th e people and the Kings

.

H ave with one voi ce

A NDROMAC H E .

What is it ! Evil th ings

Are on thy lip s !
TA LT HY B I U S .

Tis ordered this child

’
,

How c an I tell her of it !

A NDROMA C H E .

Doth he not go
With me to the same mas ter !
,

TA LT HY B I U S .

There is none
’
In Greece sh all e er be master of th y son
, .

A NDROMA C H E .

How ! Will they leave him here to build again

The wr eck !
46
 E U RIPIDE S

TA LTHY B I U S .

B ut from this crested wall

O f Troy be dashed and die , Nay let the thing .
,

B e done Tho u shalt be wiser so Nor clin g

. .

So fi ercely to h i m Su ff er as a brave
.

Woman in bitter pain ; nor th ink to have

Strength which th ou hast not Lo ok abo ut thee here ! .

Canst thou see help or refuge an ywhere !

,

Thy land is fallen and thy lord and thou ,

A prisoner and alone one woman ; ho w ,

C anst battle against 11 s ! For thine own good

I would not h ave th ee strive nor make ill blood ,

And shame about th ee Ah nor move thy lips

.
,

In silen ce there to cast upon t he sh ips

,

Thy curse ! One word of evil to the h o st ,

Th is babe shall h ave no burial but be tos sed ,

Naked . Ah pe ace ! And bear as b es t thou may

, ,
’
War s fortune So th ou sh alt not go th y way
.

Leaving th is ch ild unburie d ; nor the Gree k

B e st e rn again s t the e , if thy he a rt be meek !

A NDROMA C H E ( t o t he ch i ld ) .

Go die my best beloved my cherished one

, ,
-
, ,
’
In fierce men s h ands leaving me here alo n e , .

Thy father was too valiant ; that is why

They slay thee ! Other children like to die , ,

M i gh t have been spared for that B ut on thy .

His goo d is turned to evil .

0 thou bed
And bridal ; O the j oining of the h an d ,
’
That led me long ago to Hector s lan d
48
 T H E TROJAN WOM EN

To bear 0 not a l amb for Gre ci an swords

,

To s laughter but a Prince o er all the hordes

,
’

Enthroned o f wide flun g Asia Weepest th ou !

-
.

Nay why my little one ! Thou canst not know

, , .

And Father will not co me ; he will not come ;

Not once the great spear flashing a nd th e tomb
, ,

Ri v en to set thee free ! Not one of all

H is brethren nor the might o f Ilion s wall
,
’
.

H ow shall it be ! One horrible spring

deep
Down . And thy n e ck Ah God so cometh ,

sle e p !
And none to pity thee ! Thou little thing
That cu rles t in my arms what sweet s cents cling ,

All round thy neck ! B elov e d can it be

All noth ing that this bosom cradled th ee
,

And fostered ; all the weary nights wherethrough ,

I watched upon thy sickness till I grew ,

Wasted with watc h ing ! Kiss me Th is one time ; .

Not ever again Put up thine arms and climb

.
,

About my neck ! now kiss me lip s to lips , ,

.

O ye have found an an guish that outstrip s

,

Al l tortures of t h e Eas t ye gentle Greeks ! ,

Why will ye slay this innocent that seeks ,

No wrong ! 0 H elen Helen thou ill tree , ,

That Tyndareus planted who shall de em of thee ,

As child o f Zeus ! O thou h as t drawn thy breath ,

From many father s Madness H ate red Death

, , , ,

An d every rottin g poison of the sky !

!

Zeu s knows thee not thou vampire draining d ry , ,

.

Greece and the world ! God h ate th ee and destroy ,

That with those beauti ful eyes hast blasted Troy ,

And made the far famed plains a waste withal

- .

49
 E U RI PIDE S

Quick ! take him ! drag him ! cas t him from the wall ,

I f cast ye will ! Tear h i m ye beasts be swift ! , ,

God h a th undo ne me an d I c annot lift ,

One hand one hand to save my child fro m death

, ,

0 hide my he a d for s h ame ! fling m e b eneath

,
’
Your gall eys benches !
! S he sw o o ns ! t hen half ri s i ng -
.

Qui ck ! I must b e gon e

To th e brid al I have lost my child my own !
.
,

! The S o ld i ers cl os e ro und h er .

LEADER .

0 Tro y ill s tarr e d ; for one s tran ge wom an , on e

-

Abh o rre d ki ss how are thine hosts undon e !

,

TA LTHY B I U S ( bendi ng ov er A NDROMA C H E a nd grad u

ally t aki ng t h e Ch i ld fr om h er ) .

C om e Child ! let be th at clasp of l ov e

,

Outwearied ! Walk t h y way s with m e ,

U p t o the crested tower abo ve ,

’
Thy father s wall Wh ere th e y decree
Thy so ul shall peri sh — Hold him ! hold .

Wo uld Go d so me other man might ply

Thes e charges one o f duller mould
, ,

And nea rer to the iron than I !

H ECU B A .

0 Chi l d , th ey r ob us o f our own ,

Child of my M ighty One outworn
Ou rs ours thou art — Can aught b e d one
,

O f deed s can aught of pain b e born e

, ,

50
'
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

To aid thee — Lo this beaten head , ,

This bleeding bo som ! These I spread

As gifts to t h ee I can th us mu ch . .

Woe woe for Troy and woe for thee !

, ,

Wh at fall yet lacket h ere we touch ,

T h e l ast dead deep of misery !

! Th e C h i ld wh o h as s tart ed ba ck fro m T AL
,

T H YB I U S, i s t a ke n up by o ne o f t h e S ol
d i ers a nd b o rn e b a ck t o wa rd s t h e ci ty,

wh i l e A NDR OMA C H E is s et a ga i n on t he

C ha ri o t a nd d ri v e n o ff t o wa rd s t h e s h i s p .

TA LT HY B I U S g o es wi t h t h e C hi l d .

C H OR U S .

! S trophe I .

I n Sal amis , filled with the foaming

O f billows and murmur of bees ,

Old Telamon stayed from h i s ro aming ,

Long ago on a throne of the seas ;

,

Lo oking out on the hills olive laden -

,

Ench anted where first from the earth

,

The grey gleaming fruit of th e Maiden

-

Athena h ad birth ;
A so ft grey crown for a city
B el o véd a C ity o f Ligh t
,

Yet he rested not th ere nor had pity , ,

B ut went forth in his migh t ,

Where Heracles wandered t h e lonely ,

B ow bearer and lent hi m h i s h ands

-
,

For th e wrecking o f one land only ,

O f Ilion Ilion only

, ,

Most hated o f lands !

51
 E U RI PIDE S

! A n tis t ro p he 1.

O f the brave st o f Hella s he made him

A ship folk in wrath for t h e Steeds
-
, ,

And sailed the wide water s and stayed him ,

At last amid Simoi s reeds ; ’

And the oars beat slow in the river ,

And the long ropes held in the strand ,

And he felt for his bow and hi s q uiver ,

The wrath o f his h and .

And the old king died ; and the towers

That t b us had builded did fal l ,

And his wrath as a flame that devours

, ,

Ran red over all ;

And th e fi eld s and the woodlands lay bl aste d ,

Long ago Yea twice hath th e Sire

.
,

U plifted h is hand and down cast it

On the wall of the Dardan downc as t it ,

As a sword and as fi re .

! S trop he 2
.

I n vain all in vain

, ,
’
O thou mid the wine j ars golden -

That mo vest in delicate jo y ,

G anymédés child of Troy , ,

The lips of the High est drain

The cup in thine hand upholden
And thy mother thy mother that bore th ee, .

I s was ted with fi re and torn ;

And the voice of her sho re s is h e ard ,

Wild as the voice of a bird

, ,

For lovers and children befo re thee

C rying and mothers outworn
, .

And the pools of thy bathing are perished ,

And the wi nd strewn way s of thy feet !

-

52
 TH E TROJAN WO M EN

Ye t thy fac e as a foretime i s cheri sh e d

O f Zeu s an d the breath of it sweet ;
,

Yea th e b eauty o f C alm is up o n it

,

I n h o u ses a t re s t and afar .

B ut thy l an d He hath wrecked an d o erthrown

,
’

In th e w ailing o f war .

! Antis trophe 2 .

0 Love anci e nt L ove

, ,

O f ol d t o th e D ardan give n ;
Lo v e of the Lo rds of th e Sky ;
H o w did s t thou lift us high
In I l ion ye a an d above
, ,

Al l citi e s a s w e d with heav en !

,

Fo r Z eu s —O l eave it unspoken
B ut al as fo r th e love of the M o m ;
Mo m o f the milk white wing -
,

The ge n tle the earth loving ,

-
,

That s hin e th o n battlements broke n

In Tro y and a people forlorn !
,

And l o in h e r bowers T i th6nus

, , ,

Our bro th e r yet sleeps as o f ol d,

0 she too h a th l o ved us and known u s

, ,

And th e Stee ds o f h er star flashing gold , ,

Stooped hith e r and bore him above u s ;

The n bless ed we th e God s in our j oy .

B ut all th a t mad e them to l o ve u s

H ath p e ri s hed fro m Troy .

! As t h e s o ng ceas es , t h e Ki ng M ENE LA U S e u
t ers ri chly a r m ed a nd fo l l owed by a b o dy
,

guard of S o ld i ers H e i s a p rey t o v i a

.

l ent a nd co n fli cti ng em o ti o ns .

53
 E U RI PIDE S

M EN E L A U S .

How bright the face of heaven and how swe e t ,

T h e air thi s day that layeth at my feet

,

T h e woman that I
’
Nay ! twas not for her
I came . Twas fo r th e man the co z ener
’
,

And thief th at ate with me and stole away

,

My bride B ut Paris lieth th is long day

.
, ,
’
B y God s grace under the horse hoofs of the Greek
,
-
,

And round him all his land And now I seek .

C urse h er ! I scarce can speak th e name she bears ,

That was my wi fe H ere with the prisoners .

They keep her in the s e huts among the hordes

, ,

O f numbered slave s — The h o st whose labouri ng sword s

Wo n her h ave given her up to me to fill
, ,

My pleasure ; perchance kill her or not kill , ,

B ut lead her hom e — Meth inks I have forego n e

The slaying of Helen h ere in Ilion
Over the long seas I will bear her ba ck ,

And there there cast her out to whatso wrack

, ,

O f angry death they may devise who kn o w ,

Their dearest dead for her in Ilion —H o l .

Ye s oldiers ! U p into the ch ambers where

She croucheth ! Grip the long bloo d reeking hair -
,

And drag her to mine eyes ! C o n tro l li ng h i ms elf .

And when there come

Fair breez es my long ships sh all hear h er h ome
, .

! The S o ld i ers go t o f o rce o p en t h e d o or of th e

s ec o nd h a t o n t h e l eft .

H ECU B A .

Thou deep B ase of the World and th ou high Thro n e ,

’
Above the World who e er thou art unknown, ,

54
 E U RI PI DE S

That scrupled for thee All all with one will

.
,

Gave thee to me who m thou h as t wronged to kill !

, ,

H ELE N .

And is it grante d that I speak or no , ,

In answer to them ere I die to sh ow ,

I die most wronged and innocent !

M ENE LA U S .

I seek
To kill the e w om an ; not to hear thee speak !
,

H ECU B A .

O h ear her ! She must never die unheard ,

King Menelaus ! And give me th e word

To speak in answer ! All the wrong sh e wro ught
Away from thee in Troy th ou knowe st not
, ,
.

T h e who le tale set together is a death

’
Too sure ; she shall not scape thee !

M E N E LA U S .

’
Tis but breath
And time For thy sake Hecuba i f s he need
.
, ,

To speak I grant t h e prayer I h ave no heed

, .

Nor mercy— let her kn o w it well— for her !

H E L EN .

It may be that how false or tru e so e er

,
’

Thou deem me I shall win no word fro m thee

, .

So sore th o u b o l dest me thine enemy .

Yet I will take wh at w o rd s I think thy heart

H oldeth of anger ! and in even part
Set my wro ng and thy wrong and all that fell , .

! P oi nti ng to H E CU B A .

56
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN
S h e cometh fi rst, who bare the seed and well
O f sprin gin g sorrow when to life she brought ,

Paris ! and that old King wh o quench e d not ,

Quick in the s park ere yet he wo ke to slay , ,

The fi reb rand s image —B ut enough ! a day

’
.

C ame and this P aris j udged beneath th e trees

,

Th ree C ro wns o f L ife th ree d iverse Godde s ses , .

T he gift of Pall as was o f War to lead ,

His East in con quering battles and make bleed ,

The hearths o f Hell as Hera held a Throne .

I f maj esties he craved— to reign alone

Fr om Phrygia to th e last realm of the West .

And Cypris i f he deemed her loveli est

, ,

B eyond all heav e n made dreams about my face

,

And for he r grace gave me And 10 ! her grace .

,

Was j udged the fairest and she stood above ,

Th os e twain —Thus was I loved and thus my

.
,

lov e
Hath holpen Hella s No fi erce Eas tern crown .

’
Is o er your lands no spear hath cast th em down
, .

0 it was well for H ellas ! B ut fo r me

,

Most ill ; caught up and sold across the s ea

For this my beauty ; yea dishonour e d ,

For that which else had been about m y head

A crown of honour Ah I see t hy th ough t ;
.
,
’
The fi rst p lain deed tis that I answe r not , ,

How in the dark out of thy h ouse I fled

’
There came the Seed of Fire this woman s seed ; ,

C am e—O a Godde s s great walked with him then

,

This Al exander B reaker down o f Men

,
- - -
,

This Paris Str e ngth is with him ;

,
whom thou - - -
,

wh om
0 f alse and light o f heart— thou in thy ro om
57
 E U RI PIDE S

Didst leave and spreadest sail for C retan seas

, ,

Far far from me !

,
And yet how strange it is ! ,

I ask not thee ; I as k my own s ad though t ,

What was there in my h eart that I forgot ,

My home and land and all I loved to fly ,

Wit h a s trange man ! Surely it w as not I ,

B ut Cypris there ! Lay th ou thy rod on her

, ,

And be more high than Zeus and bittere r ,

Who o er all other Spirits hath his th ro ne

’
,

B ut knows her chain must bind him My wrong d o ne .

Hath its own pardon .

One word yet thou hast ,

Methinks o f righteou s seeming Wh en at l as t

, .

The earth for Paris Oped and all was o er ’

,

And her strange magi c bound my feet no mo re ,

Wh y kept I still h i s house wh y fled not I ,

To the Argive ships ! Ah how I strove t o fly ! ,

The old Gate Warden could have told thee all

-
,

My h usband and the watchers from the wall ;

,

I t was not on ce they took me with the ro pe ,

Tied and this body swung in th e air to grope

, ,

Its way toward t h e e from that dim battlement , .

Ah husband still how sh all thy h and be bent

, ,

To slay me ! Nay if Right be come at last

, ,

Wh at shalt th o u bring but com fort for pain s pas t ,

And harbour for a woman storm driven -

A woman borne away by violent men

And this one birthright of my beauty this ,

That might have been my glory 10 it is , ,

A stamp that God h ath b u rned o f slave ry ! ,

Alas ! and i f thou craves t still to be

As one set above gods invi o late , ,
’
Ti s but a fruitless lon ging holds thee yet .

58
 T H E TROJAN WO M EN

LEADER .

0 Queen , think of thy children an d thy land ,

And break her spell ! The sweet soft speech , th e
h and
And heart so fell ! it maketh me afraid .

H EC U BA .

Meseems her godde s ses first cry mine aid

Against these lying lips ! Not Hera nay , ,

Nor virgin Pallas deem I su ch low clay ,

To barter th eir own folk Argos and brave ,

Ath ens to be trod down the Ph rygian s slav e

, ,
’
,

All for vain glory and a shepherd s p ri z e ’

On Ida ! Wherefo re should great H era s eyes ’

So hunger to be fair ! S h e doth not use

To seek for ot her loves being wed with Zeus
, .

An d maiden Pallas did some strange god s face ’

B eguile her th at s h e c raved for l o veliness

, ,

Who chose from God one virgin gift abo ve

All gifts and fleét h from the lip s o f love !
,

’
Ah deck not out thine own h eart s evil springs
,

B y making spirits of heaven as brutish th ings

And cruel The wise may hear th ee and guess al l !
.
,

And C ypris must take Sh ip— fantastical !

Sail with my son and enter at t he gate
To seek thee ! H ad s h e willed it sh e had sate ,

At peace in heaven and wafted thee and all

, ,
’
Amyclae with th ee under I lion s wall
,
.

My son was passing beautiful beyond ,

His peers ; and thine o wn heart that s aw and conn e d ,

His face became a spirit enchanting thee

, .

For all wild things that in mortality

59
 E U RI PI DE S

H ave being are Aph ro di t é ; and the name

,

Sh e bears in h eaven is born and writ of them .

Thou sawest him in gold and orient vest

Sh ining and lo a fire about thy bre ast
, ,

Leapt ! Thou hadst fed upon s uch little things ,

Pacing thy way s in Argos B ut now wings .

Were come ! Once free from Sparta and th ere rolled ,

The Ilian glory like broad stre ams of gold

, ,

To steep thine arms and splash the towers ! How

small ,

H ow cold that day was Menelaus hall ! ’

Enough o f that It was by force my son .

Took th ee thou sayst and s triving

,
Yet not one
, .

In Sparta knew ! No cry no sudden prayer ,

Rang from t hy rooms th at night C astor was there .

To h ear thee and his brother ! both true men

, ,

Not yet among the stars ! And after wh en ,

Thou camest here to Troy and in thy track ,

Argo s and all its anguish and th e rack

O f war— Ah God l— perch ance men told thee Now
T h e Greek prevails in battle then wouldst thou
Praise Menelaus that my son might smart , ,

Striving with th at old image in a heart

U ncertain still Then Troy h ad vi ctories
.

And th is Greek was as naught ! Alway thine eyes

’
Watched Fortune s eye s to follow ho t where sh e ,

Led fi rst Thou wouldst not follow Honesty

. .

Thy sec ret ropes thy bo dy swung to fal l ,

Far like a desperate prisoner fro m the wall !

, ,

Who found thee so ! When wast thou taken ! Nay ,

Hadst thou no surer rope no sudden way ,

O f the sword that any wo man honest souled

,
-

H ad sought l o ng si n c e loving her lord of old ! ,

60
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

O ften and often did I charge thee ; Go ‘

,

My daughter ; go thy ways My sons will know .

New loves I will give aid and steal thee past

.
,

The Argive watch O give us peace at las t

.
,
’
Us an d our foes ! B ut out th y spirit cried
As at a bitter word Th ou had s t thy pride
.

’
In Al exander s house and O twas sweet , ,
’

To hold proud East erns bo wing at thy feet .

They were great things to thee ! And comest

now
Forth and hast decked thy bosom and thy brow
, ,

And b reath es t with thy lord the same blue air ,

Thou evil heart ! Low low with ravaged hair , , ,

Rent raiment and flesh s huddering and within

, ,

0 shame at last not glory for thy sin ;

,

So face him if thou canst ! Lo I have don e , .

B e true 0 King ; let Hellas bear her crown

,

O f Justice Slay this woman and upraise

.
,

The law for evermore ! she that betrays

Her husband s bed let her be j udged and di e
’
,
.

L EAD ER .

B e strong 0 Kin g ; give j udgment worthily

,

For thee and thy great house Shake o ff thy long .

Reproach ; not weak b u t iron against the wro ng !

,

M E N E LA U S .

Thy thought doth walk with mine in one intent .

Tis sure ; her h eart was willing w h en she went

’
,

Forth to a stranger s bed And all her fair

’
.

Tale of enchantment tis a thing Of air ! ,

’

! Tu rn i ng furi ous ly up o n H EL EN .

6I
 E U RI PIDE S

Out , wo man ! There be th ose th at seek th ee ye t

With ston es ! G o meet them So shall thy lo ng d ebt
, .

B e paid at l as t And ere th is night is o er

’
.

Thy d ead face shall dishonour me no m o r e !

H E L EN ( kneel i ng b efore h i m and embra ci ng hi m ) .

B e hold min e arms are wreathed abo ut thy kn ees ;

,

Lay not upon my head the phantas ies

O f H eave n R emember all an d slay m e no t !
. ,

H E C UB A .

Rem embe r them she murdered them that fought ,

B e s ide th ee a nd their children ! H ear that prayer !

,

M E N ELA U S .

Peac e age d woman peace ! Tis not fo r h e r ;

, ,
’

Sh e i s as n aught to me .

( To the S o ldi ers ) March on b e fo re ,

Ye ministers and tend h e r to the s h ore

,

And have some chambered gal ley set fo r h e r ,

Wh e r e sh e may sail the seas .

H E CU B A .

I f t h o u b e th e re,
I ch a rge th ee let not her se t foo t therei n !
,

M E N E LA U S .

H ow ! Shal l the ship go heavi e r for h e r s i n !

H EC U B A .

A lo ve r once , wil l al w ay lov e aga i n .

62
 E U RI PIDE S

Ot h ers .

! An ti s trop he I .

Th e sacri fice i s gone and the sound of j oy ,

The dancing under the stars and the ni ght lo ng -

prayer !

The Golden Images and the Moons of Tro y ,

The twelve M oo ns and the mighty nam es th ey

be ar
My heart my heart crieth O Lo rd Zeu s on high
, , ,

Were th ey all to thee as nothing thou th ronéd in the ,

s ky.

Th ron e d in cloud where a C ity near to die

th e fi re -
, , ,

Passe th in the wind and the fl a re !

A Woman .

! Strop he 2
.

Dear one 0 husband min e, ,

Thou in the dim dominion s

Driftest with waterless lip s ,

U nburied ; and me the sh ips

Shall bear o er the bitter brine
’
,

Storm birds upon angry pinions

-
,

Where the towers of the Gi an ts shin e

’
O er Argos cloudily ,

And th e riders ride by th e s ea .

Ot hers .

And children still in the G at e

C rowd and cry ,

A multitude deso l ate ,

Voices that float and wait

As the tears run d ry
64
 TH E TROJAN WO M EN

Mother alone on the sho re

,

They drive me far from thee ,

Lo the dip o f the oar

, ,

The black h ull on the sea !

I s it th e Isle Immortal ,

Sa lamis waits for me !

,

I s it the Rock that broo ds

Over the sundered flood s
O f C orinth t h e ancient portal
,
’
O f Pelop s s ovranty !

A Wo ma n .

! An ti s tro ph e 2 .

Out in the waste of foam ,

Wh ere rideth dark Menelaus ,

C ome to us there 0 white ,

And j agge d with wild sea light ,

-

A n d crashing of oar blades come -

, ,

0 thunder of God and slay us ,

While our t e ars are wet for hom e ,

While out in th e storm go we ,

Sl ave s of our enemy !

Ot hers .

A n d God may Helen be ther e

, , ,

With mirror o f go ld ,

D eckin g h er face so fair ,

Girl like ; and hear and stare

-
, ,

And turn death cold -

N ever ah never more

, ,

The hearth of her home to se e

'

Nor sand of the Spartan shore ,

Nor t o mbs where her fathers be ,

65
 E U RI PIDE S
’
Nor Athena s bron z en Dwelling ,

Nor the towers of P i tan é ;

For her face wa s a dark desire
U po n Greece and shame like fire , ,

And her dead are welling welling , ,

From red Simo is to the sea !

! TA LTHY B I U S f oll owed , by o ne o r tw o S o ld i ers

a nd b eari ng t h e ch i ld ASTYANAX d ead , is
s een a pp roa chi ng .

LEAD ER .

Ah change on change ! Yet each one racks

,

This land with evil mani fold ;

U nhappy wives of Troy behold , ,

They bear the dead Astyanax ,

Our prince wh om bitter Greeks th is h our

,
’
Have hurl ed to death from Ilion s tower .

TA LT HY B I U S .

One galley Hecuba th ere lingereth yet

, , ,

Lapping the wave to gath er t he las t freight,

O f Pyrrh u s spo ils for Th essal y T h e ch ief

’
.

Himself long since h ath parted much in grief ,

For Pe leus sake his grandsire whom men say

’
, , , ,

Acastus Pelias son in war array

,
’
,

Hath driven to exile Lo ath enough before .

Was he to linger and now go es the more ,

In haste bearing Andromache h i s pri z e

, ,
.

’
Tis sh e hath ch armed these tears into mine eyes ,
’
Weeping h er fath erland as o er the wave ,

’
She gaz ed and speaking words to He c tor s grave
, .

66
 T H E TROJAN WOM EN

Howbeit she prayed us that due rites be done

,

For burial of th is babe th ine Hector s son ,

’

,
’
That now from Ilion s t o wer i s fallen and dead .

And lo ! this great bronze fronted sh ield th e dread

,
-
,

O f many a Greek that H ector held in fray

, ,

0 never in God s name— so did she pray

’

B e th is borne forth to hang in P éleu s hall

’

Or that dark bridal chamber that the w all ,

May hurt her eyes ; but here in Troy o erthrown ,

’
,

Instead o f cedar wood and vaulted stone ,

’
B e this her ch ild s last house And in thine hands .

She bade me lay hi m to be swath ed in bands ,

O f death and garments such as rest to thee ,

In th ese thy fallen fortunes ; seeing t h at she

’
H ath gone her ways and for h er master s has te
, , ,

May no more fold the babe unto his rest .

Howbeit so soon as he is garlanded

,

And robed we will heap earth above his head

,

And lift our sails See all be swiftly done

.
,

As thou art bidden I have saved th ee one

.

’
Labour For as I passed Scamande r s stream
.

Hard by I let the waters run on him

, ,

And cleansed his wounds — See I will go forth now ,

And break the hard earth for his grave ! so thou

And I will haste together to set free ,

Our oars at last to beat the h omeward sea !

!H e g o es o ut w i t h h i s S o ld i ers l eav i ng t he ,

’
o f t he C h i l d i n H E C U B A S a rms .

H ECU B A .

’
Set the great orb of Hector s Shield to lie
H e re on the ground Tis bitter th at mine ey e
.
’

67
 E U RI PIDE S

Should see it O ye Argives was your spear

. ,

Keen and your hearts so low and cold to fear

, ,

This babe ! Twas a strange murder for brave

’ ‘

men !
For fear this babe some day might raise again
H is fallen land ! Had ye so little pride !
Wh ile H ector fough t and thousands at his side , ,

Ye smote us and we perished ; and now now

, , ,

When all are dead and Ilion lieth low ,

Ye dread th is inno cent ! I deem it not

Wisdo m that rage of fear that hath no th o ught
,
.

Ah what a death hath found thee little one !

, ,

H adst th ou but fallen figh ting hadst thou known ,

Strong youth and love and all t h e majesty

Of godlike kings then had we spoken of thee
,

As of one blesse d could in any wise

These days know blessedness B ut now thine eye s .

Have seen t h y lips h ave tasted but thy soul

, ,

No knowledge had nor usage o f the whole

Ri ch li fe th at lapt thee round Poor littl e child ! .

Was it our ancient wall the circuit piled ,

B y loving Gods s o savagely hath rent

,

Thy curls these little flowers inno cent

,

That were thy mother s garden where she laid ’

,

H er kisses ; here just where th e bone edge frayed

—
-
,

Grins white above Ah heaven I will not see ! ,

Ye tender arm s the same dear mould have ye

,

As hi s ; h ow from the shoulder loose ye drop

And w e ak ! And dear proud lips so full of hope ,

And close d for ever ! What fal se words ye said

At daybreak when he crept into my bed
, ,

Called me kind names and promised ! Grandmother , ,

When th o u art dead I will cut clos e my hair,

68
 TH E TROJAN WO MEN

And lead out all the captains to ride by

Thy tomb Why didst thou ch eat me so ! Ti s I
.
’ ’
,

Old homeles s childless th at for thee must shed

, , ,

Cold tears so young so miserably dead

, , .

Dear God the pattering welc ome s of thy fee t

, ,

The nursing in my lap ; and O the sweet ,

Falling as leep together ! All is gone .

How should a poet ca rve t h e funeral stone

To tell thy story true ! There lieth here ‘

A babe whom the Greeks feared and in their fear ,

Slew him
’
Aye Greece will bless the tale it
.
,

tells !
Child they have left thee beggared o f all else
,

I n Hector s house ; but one thing sh al t thou keep

’
,

This war shield bron z en barred wherein to sleep

- -
, .

’
Alas thou guardian true o f H e ctor s fair
,

Left arm how art thou masterless ! And th ere

,

I see his h andgrip printed on thy hold ;

And deep stains of the precious sweat that rolled ,

In battle from the brows and beard of him ,

Dro p after drop are writ about thy rim ,

.

Go brin g th em— such poor garments h az ardou s

,

As these days leave God h ath not granted us .

Wherewith to make much pride B ut all I can .

,

I giv e thee Ch ild of Troy — O vain is man

,
. ,

Who glorieth in h i s j oy and hath no fears

While to and fro t h e chances o f the years
Dance like an idiot in the wind ! And none
B y any s trength hath his own fortune won .

! D uri ng thes e li nes s evera l W o men a re s ee n a p

roa ch i ng w i t h g a rla nd s a nd ra i men t in
p
t h ei r h a n d s .

6
 E U RI PIDE S

LEAD ER .

Lo these wh o be ar thee raiment h a rve s ted

,
’
F rom Ilion s slai n to fold upon the dead
, .

! D uri ng t he foll ow i ng s cene H E CU B A grad ually

takes t h e g arments a nd wraps t hem a b out
t he Ch i ld .

H EC U BA .

0 not in prid e for speeding o f th e c a r

B eyond thy p e er s n o t for the sh a ft o f war
,

True aimed as Phrygian s use ; not an y priz e

,
’
O f joy for the e nor splendour in men s eyes
, ,
’
Thy father s moth e r lays th ese o ff erings
About thee from th e many fra grant things
,

That were al l thine o f old B ut now no more . .

One woman l o athed of God hath b ro ke the do or

, ,

And robbed thy treasure h ouse and thy warm breath

-
,

Made cold and trod thy people d ow n t o death !

,

C H OR U S .

S o m e Wo m e n .

D e e p in t h e h eart o f m e
I feel thine hand ,

Mother ! and is it h e
D e ad here our prince to b e ,
,

And lord o f the lan d !

H E CU B A .

Gl ory o f Ph rygi a n raiment which m y th o ught ,

Kept for thy bridal day with some fa r sought -

Queen of the East folds th ee for ev e rm o re

, .

And thou grey Mother Mother Shield that bo re

, ,
-

70
 E U RI PIDE S

C H OR U S .

B eat beat th ine head

,

B eat with t h e wailing chim e

O f h ands lifted in time !
B eat and bleed for the dead .

Woe is me for the dead !

H ECUB A .

0 Women ! Ye mine own

,

! S he ri s es b ewi ld ered , as t h o ug h s he had seen a

vi s i o n.

LEADER .

Hecuba sp eak ! ,

Thine are we all . Oh e re thy bosom break

,

H EC U B A .

Lo I have seen the open hand of God ;

,

And in it nothing nothing save th e rod

, ,

Of mine affliction and the eternal hate

, ,

B eyond all lands ch osen and lifted great

,

For Troy ! Vain vain were prayer and incen se swel l

,
-

’
And bulls blood on t h e altars ! All is well .

Had H e not turned us in H i s hand and th rust ,

Our h igh things low an d shook our hills as dust ,

We had not been this splendour and our wrong ,

An everlasting music for the song

O f earth and heaven !
Go women ! lay our dead ,

In his low sepulch re H e hath h is meed .

O f ro bing And meth inks but little care

.
, ,

Toucheth the tomb if th ey that moulder ther e

,

72
 TH E TROJAN WO M EN

H av e rich encerement Ti s we tis we

.
’
,
’
,

That dream we living and our vanity !

,

! Th e Wo men b ear o ut t h e d ead C h i ld up o n th e

s h i eld s i ng i ng w h e n p res en t ly l a m es o
, , f f
fire and d i m f o rms a re s een a mong t h e
rui ns of t h e Ci ty .

CH OR U S .

S o me Wo men .

Woe for the mother that bare thee child , ,

Th read so frail o f a hope so high ,

Th at Time hath broken ! and all men smiled

About thy cradle and passing by , , ,

Sp o ke o f thy father s maj esty

’
.

L ow low th o u lie s t !
, ,

Ot h ers .

Ha ! Wh o b e these on the crested rock !

Fie ry hands in the dusk and a shock ,

Of torches flung ! What lingereth still ,

0 wounded C ity of unknown ill

, ,

E re yet thou diest !

TA LT HY B I U S ( co mi ng o ut t h roug h t h e rui ned

Wa ll ) .

Ye C aptains that have charge to wreck thi s keep

’
O f Priam s C ity let your torches sleep
,

No more ! U p fling the fi re into h er heart !

,

Then have we done with Ilion and may p a rt ,

I n j oy to Hellas from this evil land

And ye— s o hath o ne w o rd two face s —s t an d
.

73
 E U RI PI DE S

Daughters of Troy till on your ruined wall

,
’
The e cho of my master s trumpet call
In signal breaks ! th en fo rward to t he sea , ,

Wh ere the long ship s lie waiting .

And for thee ,

O ancient woman most unfortunate ,

Follow ! O dysseus men be here and wait

’
,
’ ’
To guide thee Tis to hi m thou go s t for thrall
. .

H ECU B A .

Ah me ! and is it come the end of all

, , ,

The very crest and summit of my days !

I go fo rth from my land and all its ways ,

Are filled with fire ! B ear me O aged feet , ,

A little nearer ! I must gaz e and greet ,

My po or town ere she fall .

Farewell farewell ! ,

O thou who se breath was mighty on the swell

O f orient winds my Troy ! Even thy name
,

Sh all soon be taken from th ee Lo the flame .

,

Hath th ee and we th y ch ildren pas s away

, , ,

To slavery G o d ! 0 God of mercy ! Nay ‘

Wh y call I on th e Gods ! Th ey know th ey know , ,

My prayers and would not h ear th em long ago

, .

Quick to the flames ! O in thine agony

, , ,

My Troy mine own take me to die with thee !

, ,

! S he sp ri ngs t owa rd t h e flames b ut i s s eiz ed and ,

h eld by t h e S o ld i ers .

TA LT HY B I U S .

B ack !Thou art drunken with thy mi se ri es ,

Poo r wom an l—Hold her fast men till it ple ase , ,

74
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

Od yss e us th at she co m e She w as his lo t

.

C h os en fr om all and p o rtioned L ose h e r no t ! .

! H e g oes wa t ch o v er t h e b urni ng of t he
to

Th e d us k d eepe ns .

CH OR U S .

D i vers Wo men .

Woe woe wo e ! , ,

Th o u o f th e Age s 0 wherefo r e flees t th o u

, ,

Lord of th e Phrygia n Father that m ad e u s !

,
’
Tis w e thy childre n ; shall n o m an aid us !
,

Ti s we thy childr en ! Seest th o u se es t thou !

’
, ,

Ot h ers .

He seeth o nly hi s h ea rt is pitil e ss ;

,

And the land dies ! yea she , ,

She of the M ighty C ities p e rish e th ci t iless !

Tro y shall no more b e !
O t h ers .

Woe w o e woe !
, ,

Ili o n s hineth a far !

Fir e in the deeps thereo f ,

Fire in the heights above ,

And crested wall s o f Wa r !

Ot h ers .

A s smo k e on the wing of h eaven

Cl i mb et n and scatter e th
'

To rn o f the Sp e ar and driv en ,

The land crieth for de ath

0 storm y battlem e nts that r e d fire h ath riv en ,

And the sword s angry breath !

’

! A new t h o ugh t c o m es t o H ECU BA ; s h e kneels

and b ea ts th e ea rt h wi th h er hand s .

75
 E U RIP IDE S

H ECU B A .

! S troph e .

Earth Earth o f my children ;

,
hearken ! and O
mine own ,

Y e h ave hearts and fo rget not y e in th e darkness ,

lying !

LE AD ER .

Now has t thou found thy p rayer crying t o them that ,

are gone .

H ECU B A .

Surely my knees are weary but I kneel above your ,

h ead
H earken O ye so silent ! My hands beat your bed !
,

L EAD ER .

I I am near th ee ;
,

I kneel to t h y dead to hear the e ,

Kneel to mi ne own in the darkness ; 0 husband ,

H ECU B A .

Even as the beas ts they drive even , as the loads

LEAD ER .

( Pain ; 0 pain ! )
H ECU B A .

We go to the h o u se of bondage . H ea r ye dead 0

, ,

hea r !
LEADER .

( Go and come not again ! )

,

76
 TH E TROJAN WOM EN

H EC U BA .

P ri am mine own Pri am

, ,

Lying so lowly ,

Thou in thy nothingness ,

Sh elterless com fortless

, ,
’
Se e s t thou the thing I am !
Know s t thou my bitter stress !
’

LEADER .

Nay, th o u art naugh t to him !

Out o f the strife th e re came ,

Out o f the noise and sh am e ,

Making his eyelids dim ,

D eath the Most Holy !

,

! The fire a nd s m o ke ri s e co ns tantly

H E C U BA .

! Anti strophe
.

0 high h o us es o f God s b el ovéd street s o f my birth ,

,

Y e h ave found the w ay o f the s wo rd th e fie ry and ,

bl oo d red river !
-

LEAD E R .

Fall an d men shall for ge t you !

, Ye sh al l l i e i n th e
ge nt le earth .

H EC U EA .

Th e du s t as smoke rise th ; it spreadeth wid e it s wi n g ;

I t m a keth m e a s a shadow and my C ity a van ish e d
,

thi n g !
77
 E U RI PIDE S

LEAD ER .

Out on the smoke sh e goeth ,

And h er name no m an knoweth ;

th e cloud is northward southward ; Tro y i s go ne
,

for ever !
! A great cras h i s heard and t he Wall is l os t i n
,

s m o k e an d d ark ness .

H E CU B A .

Ha ! Marked ye ! Heard ye ! The cr ash of th e

t ower s that fall !

L EAD ER .

Al l is gone !

H EC UBA .

Wrath in the e arth and quaking an d a fl oo d that

s weepeth all ,

L EADER .

And passeth on !
! Th e G reek t rump et s ounds.

H EC U EA .

Farew el l —O sp irit grey ,

What s o is coming ,

Fail not from under me .

We ak limbs why tremble ye !

,

Forth where the new long d ay

Dawneth to slavery !
78
N O T E S O N T H E T R OJ A N WO M E N

P I I 1 5 Poseidon ] — I n the I l i a d P oseidon is the

.
, .
, .

enemy of Troy here t he friend This sort of co n

, .

fusion comes from the fact that the Troj ans and their
Greek enemies were largely o f the same blood with ,

the s ame tribal gods To the Troj ans Ath ena t h e

.
,

War Goddess w as of course th ei r War Goddess t he

-
, ,
-
,

protectre ss o f their citadel Poseidon god of the sea .

,

and its merch andi s e and Apollo ( possibly a lo cal

,

sh e pherd were their natural friends and had

actually built their city wall for love of t h e good old
king Laomedon Zeus the great father had Mount
, .
, ,

I da fo r his holy hill and Troy for his peculiar city .

( C f on p
. .

To suit the Greek point of ! iew all this h ad to be

changed o r explained away In the I li ad generally .

Ath ena is the proper War Goddess o f the Greeks -

.

Poseidon had indeed built the wall for L aomedon but ,

Laomedon had ch eated h im of hi s reward— as after

wards he cheated Heracles and the Argonauts and ,

ev erybody else ! So Poseidon h ated Tro y Troy is .

chiefly defended by the barbarian Ares the oriental ,

Aphrodite by its own rivers Scamander and Simo i s

,

and such like in ferior or unprin cipl ed gods .

Yet traces o f the other tradition remain Homer .

know s that Athena is spec ially worshipped in Troy .

He k n ows that Apollo who had built t he wall with,

Poseidon and h ad the same experience of Laomedon

, ,

still loves the Troj ans Zeus himself though event u

.
,

ally i n o bedience to destiny he permits the fall of the

city ne v ertheless has a great tenderness towards I t
,
.

81
 E U RIPI DE S
P I I I I I A steed marvellous ] — See below on
.
, .
,
.
,

p .
36 .

P . l 2 5 I go fort h from great Ilion &c ]

1 2, .
, , .

T h e correct ancient doctrine Wh en your gods for .

sook you th ere was no more hope C onversely wh en

,
.
,

your state became desperate evidently your gods were ,

forsaking you From anoth er point of view also .

, ,

wh en the c ity was desolate and unable to worsh ip its

gods th e gods of that c ity were no more
, .

P 1 2 l 3 4 La conian T ynd ari d ] H elen was the

.
, .
, .
-

child of Zeus and L eda and sister of C astor and Poly ,

deuces ; but her human fath er was Tyndareus an old ,

Spartan king She is treated as

!
a prisoner and a
.

prize ie , as a captured enemy not as a Greek

!
. .
, ,

prin cess delivered from t h e Troj ans .

P 1 2 l 40 In secret slain ] —
.
, B ecause t he Greeks
.
, .

were ashamed of th e bloody deed See below p 42 .

, .
,

and the s cene on th is subj ec t in t h e H ecu b a .

P 1 2 l 4 2 Cassandra ] — I n the Aga m em n o n the

.
, .
, .

story is more clearly tol d that C assandra was loved b y ,

Apollo and endowed by h i m with th e power of

prop h ecy ; then in some way s h e rej ected o r betrayed
him and he set upon her th e curse th at th ough
,

seeing th e truth sh e sh ould never be believed T he .

figure of C assandra in th is play i s not inconsistent with

th at version but it makes a diff erent impression She
, .

is here a dedi cated virgin and h er my s tic love for ,

Apollo does not seem to have su ff ered any breach .

P 1 3 l 4 7 Pallas ] — ( See above ) The histori cal

.
,
.
, . .

explanatio n of th e Trojan Pallas and the Greek Pallas

is simple enough ; but as soon as the two are mytho
logi cally personified and made one th ere emerges j ust ,

such a bitter and ruthless goddess as Euripides in his ,

revolt against t h e current myt h ology loved to depict ,

.

B ut it is not only the mytholo gy th at h e is attacking .

H e seems really to feel th at if there are conscious gods

!
ruling the world they are c ruel or inhuman ,

beings .

P 15 l .
— Aj ax the Less so n o f O i leus either
, .
, ,

r avi sh e d o r attempted to ravish C as s andra ( the sto ry

82
 NOTE S
o ccu rs in both forms ) while she was clingin g to the
Palladium or image o f Pallas It is one of th e great .

typi cal sins of the Sac k of Troy often depi cted on va s es , .

P 1 7 l 1 2 3 Faces o f ships ] — H omeri c sh ips h ad

.
, .
, .

prows sh aped and painted to look like birds or beast s ’ ’

h eads A s h ip was always a wonderfully li ve and vivid

.

thing to the Greek poets ( C f p . . .

P 1 8 l 1 3 2 C astor ] — H elen s brother ! the Eu

.
, .
, .
’

rO tas t h e river of her h ome Sparta

, , .

P 1 8 l 1 3 5 Fifty seeds ] — Priam had fi fty chil

.
, .
, .

dren ninetee n of them children of Hecub a ( 1 1 vi

’

, . .

45 1 ,
P 2 2 l 20 5 Pirene ] — The celebrated spring on
.
, .
, .

the hill of Corinth Drawing water was a typical .

employment o f slaves .

P 2 2 l 2 1 9 if The seus land &c ] — The seus land

.
, . .
,
’
, .
’

is Attica The po et in th e mid s t of h i s bitterness over

.
,

the present conduct of h i s city clings the more to its ,

old fame for humanity T h e land high born where .

-

the P enéii s flows round t h e base o f Mount Olympus

’
in northern Thessaly i s one of the h aunts of Euripides
dreams in many plays C f B a cchae 4 1 0 ( p 9 7 in . .
,
.

’
my translation ) Mount Aetna fronts the Tyrians
.

citadel i e C arthage built by the P h oeni cians T he

,
!
. .,
,
.

sister land is th e district of Sybaris in South Italy ,

wh ere the river C rath is h as or had a red gold colour , ,

-
,

whi ch makes golden the h ai r of men and the fleeces

of sheep ; and t h e water never lost its fresh ne s s .

P 23 l
.
— Talthybius is a loyal soldier with
, .

every wish to be kind B ut he is naturally in good .

spirits over the s atisfactory end of the war and his tact ,

is not s ufli cient to enable him to understand the

Troj an Women s feelings Yet in the end sin ce h e’
. ,

has to see and do the cruelties which hi s Ch iefs only

order from a distance the real nature of his work ,

forces itself upon h i m and he feels and speaks at ,

times almos t like a Trojan It is worth no ticing how .

th e Troj an Wom e n generally avoid addressing him .

( C f pp 4 8 6 7
. .
, .

P 24 l 2 5 6 The haunted keys ( l i terally

.
, .
,
W i th ,

83
 E U RIPI DE S
God through them penetrating them — Cas sandra ,
.

was his Key bearer holding the door of his H oly Place
-
, .

( Cf H ie p o
P 2 5 l 2 7 0 Sh e hath a toil &c
.
, . There I s s ome , ,
.
-

thing tru c and pathetic about this curio us blindness

which prevents H ecuba from understanding so plain
a riddle ( C f below p She takes t h e watching
!
. .
, .

of a Tomb to be some strange Greek cu s tom and ,

d o es not seek to have it explained further .

P 2 6 l 2 77 Odysseus —I n Euripides generally

.
, .
, .

Odysseus is t h e type of th e succe ssful unscrupulous

man as soldier an d politi c ian— the incarnat io n of what
,

th e poet most hated In H omer o f course he is totally .

di fferent .

P 2 7 l 3 0 1 B urn themselves and die l — Women

.
, .
,
.

under th ese circumstan ces did commit suicide in

Euripi des day as they h ave ever sin ce It is rather
-
’
,
.

c urious th at none of the char ac ters of the play not ,

even Andromache kills h e rs elf The explanation , .

must be th at no su ch suic ide was recorded in the tradi

tion ( though c f below on p a significant fact .
, .
,

suggesting that in the H omeric age wh en th is kind of ,

treatment of women captives w as re gular the victims ,

did not su ff er quite so terribly under it .

P 2 8 l 3 1 0 H ymen ] — She a d dre s ses the Torch

.
, .
, . .

The shadowy Marriage god H ymen was a torch -

and a cry as mu ch as anyth ing more personal As a .

torch he is the sign both o f marriage and o f death of ,

sunrise and of the consuming fire T he full Moon .

wa s specially connected with marriage ceremonies .

P 3 0 l 3 5 6 Lo xias ] — T he name o f Apollo as an

.
, .
, .

Oracular God .

Pp 3 0 3 4 11 3 60 4 60 Cas sandra s visions ] —The

.
-
, .
-
,
’
.

allusions are to the various su ff erings of Odysseus as ,

narrated in the Odyss ey and to the tragedies of the ,

’
house of Atreus as told for instance in Ae s ch ylus ,

Ores t ei a Agam emnon together with C assandra an d

.
,

in p a rt because h e brough t C assandra was murdered

felled with an axe —o n h i s return h ome by his wife
,

Clyt aemnestr a and her lover Aegisthus Their b o dies .

84
 NOTE S
were cast into a pit among the ro cks I n vengean ce .

for this O restes Agamemnon s son committe d

, ,
’

,
!
mother murder and in consequen ce was driven by
-
,

the Eriny es ( Furies ) of h i s mother into madness and

em1e
P 30 l 3 70 Th is their king so wise ] —Agamemn o n
.

. . .
, ,

m ade the war fo r the sake of h i s brother Men e l au s ,

and sl ew hi s daughter Iphigenia as a s acri fice at , ,

Au l is t o enabl e the ships to sail for Troy

, .

P 3 1 ll 3 94 3 9 8 H ector and Paris ] — The point

.
, . , , .

ab o ut H e ct o r is clear but as to Paris th e feeling th at , , ,

a fter a ll it was a glory that he and the h alf divine

,
-

Helen l ove d each oth er is sc arcely to be found any ,

wh e re e l s e i n Greek literature ( C f howev e r .

,

I so cr ates P r aise o f ’ !
Paris an d H e le n were
n ever id eal ised like Launcelot and Guinevere o r ,

Tri str am a nd Iseult .

P 3 2 l 42 3 A wise q ueen ] — P enelope the faith f ul

.
, .
, .
,

wife o f Odysseu s .

P 3 3 l 4 2 5 O He ralds yea Voice s o f D eath ]

.
, .
, , , .

! !
Th e re is a play on th e word for heral ds in th e
Greek here w h ich I h ave evaded by a par aphr ase
,
.

(Krfp v xes as though from Krip t he death spirit th e

!
- -
,

o n e thing abhorred of all mortal

P 3 3 l 4 3 0 That in this place she di es ] — Th e
.
, .
, .

d eath o f Hecuba is conne cted with a ce rtain h eap o f

s t o n es on the shore o f t h e H ellespont called K unos ,
’
s éma or , Dog s Tomb According to one tradition .

( Eur H ec 1 2 5 9 ff ) s h e threw herself o ff th e ship

. . .

into the se a ; acc ording to another she was stoned by

th e Greeks fo r he r cu rses upon the fleet ; but in bo th
sh e is cha n ge d after death into a so rt o f Hell h o und -
.

M Victor B e rard suggests that t h e dog fi rst comes

.

i n to th e s t o ry owin g to the acc idental re s emblance of

the ( hyp o theti c al ) Semitic word S qo u la h Ston e or
’
,

Stoning and the Greek Sk u lax dog The H o meric

!
.
, ,

Scylla ( Sk u l la ) was also both a Stone and a D o g

( P héni ci ens et Od yss ee i O f c o urse in the
’
.
,

pre se n t passa ge th ere is no direct ref e r e nce to th ese

wi l d sa il o r st o rie s -
.

85
 E U RIPIDE S
P 3 4 l 4 5 6 T h e wind comes qui ck ] —i e The
.
, .
, . . .

storm of th e Prologue Th ree Powers ! t h e th ree .

Erinyes .

P 3 6 l 5 1 1 ff C horus ] — The Wooden H orse is

.
, . .
,
.

always di ffi cult to understand and seems to h ave an ,

obscuring e ffec t on t h e language of poets wh o treat

of it I cannot h elp suspe cting th at t h e story arises
.

from a real histori cal incident misunderstood Troy .

,

we are told was still h olding out after ten years and
,

could not be taken until at las t by t h e divine su gges ,

~

tions of Athena a certain Epeios devised a Wooden ,

Horse .

’
What was the device According to the
Od yss ey and most Greek poets i t was a gigantic ,

wooden figure of a horse A party of heroes led by .

,

Odysseus got inside it and waited T h e Greeks

,
.

made a S how of giving up the siege and sailed away ,

but only as far as Tenedos T h e Troj ans came out .

and found the horse and after wondering greatly ,

wh a t it was meant for and what to do with it made ,

a brea ch in their walls and d ragged it into th e

C itadel as a thank o ff ering to Pallas In t he night -
.

the Greeks returned ; the heroes in t he horse came

out and opened the gates and Troy was c aptured ,
.

It seems possible th at the d ev i ce really was the !

building of a wooden siege tower as high as the walls -

, ,

with a proje cting and revolving ne ck Su ch engines .

were ( 1 ) c apable of being used at th e time in Asia as ,

a rare and extraordinary devi ce be cause they exist on ,

early Assyrian monuments ; ( 2 ) certain to be mis

understood i n Greek legendary tradition because they ,

were not used in Greek warfare till many centuri es

later ( First perhaps at th e sieges of Perinthus and
.
, ,

B yzantium by Philip of Macedon 3 40 ,

It is noteworth y th at n t h e great picture by I

P o l ygnOt us in t h e Les ch é at Delph i above the wall

of Troy appears the head alone o f th e Wooden
!
Horse ( P aus x Aeschylus al so ( Ag 8 1 6 ) h as
. . .

some o b s cure phrases pointing in the same direction

! ’
A horse s brood a shield bearin g peopl e launche d ,
-
,

86
 E U RI PIDE S
H e ctor ; but one feels as s he speak s that s he is already , ,

past it H er character is built up of S op hrosyne !

of self restraint and t he love of go odness —q u alities

. ,

which often seem second rate or even tiresome until -

they have a s u fli cie ntly great field in wh i ch to act .

Very characteristic is her resolution to make the best ,

’
and not the worst of h er life in Pyrrhus house with , ,

al l its horror of su ffering and apparent degradation .

So is t he self conquest by wh i ch s he deliberately re

-

frains from cursing h e r c h ild s murderers for t he sake ’

,

of t he last poor remnant o f good sh e ca n still do to

h i m in getting him buried
, T he nobility of suc h a .

c h aracter depends largely of course on the intensity , ,

of the feelings conquered .

I t is worth noting in this co nnection that Euri , ,

pi d es is contradi cting a wide spread tradition ( Robert -

,

B i l d u nd L i ed pp 6 3 Andromache in the
, .
,

pi ctures of t h e Sack of Troy is represented with a ,

great pestle or some su ch i nstrument fighting with the

Soldiers to rescue Astyanax (’A v d p o p a xn Man
‘
_

fi gh t i ng
Observ e too what a climax o f dram a i s reached
, ,

by means of t h e very fac t th at Andromache to the ,

!
utmost of her power t ries to do nothin g dramatic , ,

but only what w ill be best H er character in .

Euripides play And ro m a c he is on the W hole similar

’
, , , ,

to this but less developed

, .

P 5 1 l 7 99 ff In Sal ami s fi lled with the fo aming

.
, . .
, , ,

&c ] — A s triking instance of the artistic value of the

.

Greek chorus in relieving an intolerable strain The .

relief provided is something mu ch high e r than what

!
we ordinarily c all relief it is a stream of pure
poetry and music in key with the sadness o f th e sur
rounding scene yet in a way h ap py j ust because it
, , ,

is beautiful ( C f note on H i ppo lyt u s l

. . , .

The argument o f the rath er di fli cult lyric is

This is not the fi rst time Tro y h as been taken .

Lo ng ago Heracles made war against the old king

Laomedon because he had not given h im the immortal
,

s te e ds that he promi se d And Telam on j o ined him ; .

88
 N OTE S
Telamon who migh t have been happy in his island of
Salami s among the bees and th e pleasant waters
, ,

loo king over t h e strait to the olive laden hills of -

Athens the beloved C ity ! And they took ship and

,

lew Yea twice Zeus h as destro yed

i
ao .
,

l I o n 'L medon
.

( Second part ) Is it all in vain th at our Troj an

.

princes have been loved by the Gods ! G anymédés

pours the nectar of Zeu s in his banquets his face ,

never troubled though his motherland is burned with

,

fi re ! And to say nothing of Zeus ho w can the

, ,

Godde s s o f Mornin g rise and shine upon us un c aring !

She loved T i t hOnu s son of Laomedon and bo re h i m , ,

up from us in a chario t to be her husban d in the skies .

B ut all that on ce made th em love us is gone !

.P 5 2 l 8 3 3 Poo ls of thy bathing ] —
, . I t is prob
, .

able that G anym édés wa s himself origin ally a poo l

or a spring on I da now a pourer of nec tar in heaven
, .

Pp 5 4 6 3 Menelaus and Helen ] — The meeting

.
-
, .

o f Menelaus and H elen after t h e takin g of Troy was

natural ly one o f the great moments in the h eroic

legend The versions roughly sp e aking divide them
.
, ,

selves into two In one ( L i tt l e I li ad Ar Lys i s tr 1 5 5

.
, . .
,

Eur And ro ma che 62 8 ) Menelaus is about to kill her

.
,

but as she bares he r boso m to the sword the sword ,

fal l s from hi s hand In the other ( Stesi chorus Sack .

,

of I li o n Menelaus or some one else takes h er to

the ships to b e stoned and the men cannot sto ne her ,
.

As Quintus of Smyrna says Th ey looked on her as ,

!
the y w ould on a God !
Bo th ve rsions have a ff ected Euripides here And .

his Helen has j ust the magic o f the Helen of legend .

That touch of the supernatural which belo ngs of right

to the Child o f Heaven— a myste ry a gentleness a , ,

strange ab sence of fear or wrath— is felt through al l

her words One forgets to think of her guilt or
.

innocence ; she i s too wonderful 2 being to j udge ,

too precious to destroy Thi s supernatural element . ,

being th e thing which i f true separates Helen from , ,

other women and in a w ay redeems her is for that

, ,

89
 E U RIPIDE S
reason exactly w h at H e cuba denies The co nt ro . e

vers y has a certain eternal quality about it ! the

hypothesis of heavenly enchantment and the h ypothesis
of mere bad beh aviour neith er of them entirely con ,

v i n ci n g ! B ut the very curses of those that hate her

make a kind o f superh uman atmos ph ere about H elen
in this play ; she fills the background like a great
well spring of pain
-
.

This Menelau s however is rather di ff erent from , ,

the traditio nal Menelaus B esides being t h e husban d .

of H elen h e is t he typi cal C onqueror for whose sake

, ,

the Greeks fought and to wh om t h e central pri z e of

t h e war belongs And we take hi m at t h e height o f
.

h i s triump h th e ve ry moment for whi ch h e made the

,

war ! H ence the peculiar bitterness with whi ch he is

treated hi s conquest turning to ash es in h i s mouth
, ,

and h i s lo ve a confused turmoil of h unger and h atred ,

contem p tible and yet terrible .

The exit of t h e scene would leave a mo dern

audien ce quite in doubt as to w hat h appened unless ,

the action were mu ch clearer th an t h e words B ut all .

Athenians knew from t h e Od ys s ey th at t h e pair were

swiftly reconciled and lived happily togeth er as King ,

an d Queen o f Sparta .
_

.P 5 4 l 8 8 4 Th ou deep base of th e world ] — These

, .
, .

lines as a piece o f religious speculation were very

, ,

famou s in antiquity And dram ati cally th ey are most .

'

important All th rough the play H e cuba is a woman

.

of remarkable intellec tual power a nd of fearless

thought She does not definitely deny the existence
.

of th e Olympian gods like some charac ters in ,

Euripides but s h e treats them as beings that have

,

betrayed her and whose name she scarcely deigns to

,

speak It is the very godless nes s of H ecub a s fortitude

.
’

that makes it so terrible an d properly regarded so , ,

noble ( C f p 3 5 Why c all on things so weak !

. . .
! !

and p 7 4 They know they know

. Su ch ,

Gods were as a matter of fact the moral inferior s of

good men and Euripides will never blind his eyes to
,

t heir inferiority And as soon as pe o ple see that the ir

.

90
 NOTE S
god is bad they tend to cease believing in hi s existen ce
,

( H ecu b a s answer to H elen is not in co nsistent

’
at all .

with this it is only less characteris tic )

, .

B ehind this Olympian system however there is a , ,

possibility o f some real Providen ce or impersonal

Governance of the world to w h i ch here for a mo ment , , ,

H ecuba makes a p as sionate approach I f there is a ny .

explanation a ny j ustice even in the form of mere

, ,

punish ment of t he wi cked she will be content and ,

give worsh ip ! B ut i t seems th at t h ere is not Then

at last there remain s— w h at most but not all modern
.

freeth inkers would probably h ave begun to doubt at

t h e ve ry beginnin g— t h e world of t h e departed th e ,

spirits o f the dead who are true and in th eir d i m , ,

way love her still ( p 7 1 Thy father far away shall .

!

!
comfort thee and t he last scene of t he play )
, .

This last religion faint and Sh attered by doubt as ,

it is represents a return to the most primitive

,

Pelasgian beliefs a worship o f the Dead which ,

existed long before the Olympian system and has lo ng ,

outlived it .

P 5 7 l 9 22 The fi re brand s im age ] — Hecuba

.
,
.
,
-
’
.
,
’
j ust before Paris birth dreamed that s h e gave birth ,

to a fi re brand T h e prop hets th erefore advised th at

-
.

the babe should be killed ; but Priam disobeyed

them .

P 5 7 l 9 2 4 Th ree C rowns of L ife ] —

.
, .
, O n the .

Judgm ent of Paris see Miss Harri son P ro l eg o m ena , ,

pp 2 9 2 ff L ate writers degrade th e story into a

. .

beauty contest between th ree th orough ly personal god

desse s —and a contest complicated by bribery B ut .

origin al ly th e Judgment is rather a Choi ce between

three possible lives like the Choice of Heracles between
,

Wo rk and Idleness T he elements of the choice vary .

in di ff erent versions ! but in general Hera is royalty ;

Athena is prowe s s in war or personal merit ; Aphrodite ,

of course is love And the goddesses are not really to

,
.

be distinguished from t he gi fts they bring They are .

what they give and nothing more C f the wonder

,
. .

ful lyric And ro m 2 7 4 ff where they come to a young

. .
,

91
 E U RIPI DE S
man walking to and fro alone in an empty b u t in the ,

fi rel i gh t .

There is an extr ao rdinary e ff ect in Helen herself

b ei ng one o f the C rown s o f Life—a fair e quiv al e nt for
the throne of the world
Paris ] —Two
.

P 5 7 l 940 ff Alexander
.
, . .
, .

plays on words in the Greek .

P 5 8 l 9 5 6 T h e old Gate Warden ] — H e and the

.
, .
,
-
.

Watch ers are of course safely dead B ut on the , , .

general lines o f the tradition it may well be that H elen

is speaking the truth She loved both Menelaus .

and Paris ; and a ccording to some versions hated , ,

Déi pho b us t he Troj an prin ce w ho seized her after

,

Paris death There is a reference to D éI ph ob us in

’
.

the M SS of the play h ere but I follow Wi lamowi tz

.
,

in thinking it spurious .

Pp 63 ff C horus ] — O n the Troj an Zeus see

. .

above on p 1 1 Mount Ida caught t he rays of the

, . .

rising sun in some spec ial manner and distributed them

to the rest of th e world ; and in this gleam of
heavenly fire th e God had his dwelling whi ch is now ,

the brighter for th e flam es of his C ity go ing up li ke

in cense !
Nothing definite is known o f the Golden Images
and the Moon Fe as ts -
.

P 64 1 1 0 88 Towers o f the Giants ] — The pre

.
, .
, .

historic c astles o i Tiryns and Mycénae .

P 65 l 1 1 1 1 May H elen be there ] — ( Ci

.
, .
, . .

above ) P i t ané w as o ne of the five divisions of Sparta

.
,
.

Athena had a B ronzen H ouse on th e ac ropoli s of !

Sparta Si mo rs of course the river of Troy

.
, , .

P 7 1 l 1 2 3 2 I make th ee whole ] — Here as e l se

.
, .
, .

where H ecuba flu c tuates between fidelity to the

o ldest and most instinctive religion and a rej ecti o n of ,

a ll Gods .

P 7 2 l 1 240 Lo I have seen the Open hand of

.
, .
, ,

God ] — Th e text is perhaps imperfe ct here ; but

.

P r o fessor Wi lam owi tz agrees with me that Hecuba

, ,

has seen something like a vision The meani n g of .

thi s speech is of the utmost importance It ex presses .

92
 NOTE S
th e i nmos t the me of the whole play a search f o r an ,

a nswer t o the inj ustice of su ffering in th e ve ry

s p le ndour and beauty of su ffering O f c o urse it must .

b e s u ff e ring o f a parti cular kind or w h at come s to the , ,

s ame thing su ffering borne in a particular way ; but

,

in that cas e the answer se ems to me to h o ld One .

d oes n o t really think the world evil beca u se there are

m artyrs or heroes in it For them th e elements of .

b ea uty which ex ist in any great trial o f the Spirit

become so gr ea t as to overpower the evil th a t created
th em— t o tu rn it from shame and mise ry into trage dy .

Of co u rse t o most su fferers to childre n and ani m als ,

an d w ea k p e ople or thos e without inspirati o n th e

, ,

d o ctrin e bri n gs no help I t is a thing inv e nted by a .

p o et f o r him self .

P 7 5 l 1 2 8 8 Thou of the Ages ] — Th e Phrygi an

.
, .
,
.

All Fa th e r identi fi ed with Zeus so n of Kronos

-
, ,
.

( Cf on p
. .

P 7 6 l 1 304 Now hast thou found thy pr ay e r ]

.
, .
,
.

Th e G o d s h ave des erted her but she h as s till th e dead ,

.

( C f ab ove o n p
. ,
.

P 79 l 1 3 3 2 Fo rth to the dark Greek ship s ]

. , .
,
.

Cu ri o u sly like another magnificent ending o f a great

p o em that of the C h a ns o n d e R o land where C h a rle
,
,

magn e i s ca lled forth on a fresh ques t

D eu s ,
dist li Reis si p enu se e st m a v i e !
,

Pl uret des o i lz s a b a rbe blan ch e ti r e t

,
.

93