The Rhesus of Euripides Part 12

Back from the heights of happiness, Back, back, to labour and distress Some G.o.d that is not ours doth lead Troy and her sons; He sows the seed, Who knows the reaping?

[_In the air at the back there appears a Vision of the_ MUSE _holding the body of her dead son_ RHESUS.

Ah! Ah!

My king, what cometh? There appears Some Spirit, like a mist of tears; And in her arms a man lieth, So young, so wearied unto death; To see such vision presageth Wrath and great weeping.

[_The Guards hide their heads in their mantles._

MUSE.

Nay, look your fill, ye Trojans. It is I, The many-sistered Muse, of wors.h.i.+p high In wise men's hearts, who come to mourn mine own [vv. 892-914]

Most pitifully loved, most injured, son, For whose shed blood Odysseus yet shall pay Vengeance, who crawled and stabbed him where he lay.

With a dirge of the Thracian mountains, I mourn for thee, O my son.

For a mother's weeping, for a galley's launching, for the way to Troy; A sad going, and watched by spirits of evil.

His mother chid him to stay, but he rose and went.

His father besought him to stay, but he went in anger.

Ah, woe is me for thee, thou dear face, My beloved and my son!

LEADER.

G.o.ddess, if tears for such as thee may run In our low eyes, I weep for thy dead son.

MUSE.

I say to thee: Curse Odysseus, And cursed be Diomede!

For they made me childless, and forlorn for ever, of the flower of sons.

Yea, curse Helen, who left the houses of h.e.l.las.

She knew her lover, she feared not the s.h.i.+ps and sea.

She called thee, called thee, to die for the sake of Paris, Beloved, and a thousand cities She made empty of good men.

O conquered Thamyris, is this thy bane [vv. 915-941]

Returned from death to pierce my heart again?

Thy pride it was, and bitter challenge cast 'Gainst all the Muses, did my flesh abase To bearing of this Child, what time I pa.s.sed Through the deep stream and looked on Strymon's face, And felt his great arms clasp me, when to old Pangaion and the earth of h.o.a.rded gold We Sisters came with lutes and psalteries, Provoked to meet in bitter strife of song That mountain wizard, and made dark the eyes Of Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong.

I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame before My sisterhood, my dear virginity, I stood again upon thy Father's sh.o.r.e And cast thee to the deeps of him; and he Received and to no mortal nursing gave His child, but to the Maidens of the Wave.

And well they nursed thee, and a king thou wast And first of Thrace in war; yea, far and near Through thine own hills thy b.l.o.o.d.y chariot pa.s.sed, Thy battered helm flashed, and I had no fear; Only to Troy I charged thee not to go: I knew the fated end: but Hector's cry, Borne overseas by emba.s.sies of woe, Called thee to battle for thy friends and die.

And thou, Athena--nothing was the deed Odysseus wrought this night nor Diomede-- 'Tis thine, all thine; dream not thy cruel hand Is hid from me! Yet ever on thy land The Muse hath smiled; we gave it praise above All cities, yea, fulfilled it with our love. [vv. 942-963]

The light of thy great Mysteries was shed By Orpheus, very cousin of this dead Whom thou hast slain; and thine high citizen Musaeus, wisest of the tribes of men, We and Apollo guided all his way: For which long love behold the gift ye pay!

I wreathe him in my arms; I wail his wrong Alone, and ask no other mourner's song.

[_She weeps over_ RHESUS.

LEADER.

Hector, thou hearest. We were guiltless here, And falsely spake that Thracian charioteer.

HECTOR.

Always I knew it. Had we any need Of seers to tell this was Odysseus' deed?

For me, what could I else, when I beheld The hosts of Argos camped upon this field, What but with prayers and heralds bid my friend Come forth and fight for Ilion ere the end?

He owed me that.--Yet, now my friend is slain, His sorrow is my sorrow. On this plain I will uplift a wondrous sepulchre, And burn about it gifts beyond compare Of robes and frankincense. To Troy's relief He came in love and parteth in great grief.

MUSE.

My son shall not be laid in any grave Of darkness; thus much guerdon will I crave Of Death's eternal bride, the heavenly-born [vv. 964-985]

Maid of Demeter, Life of fruits and corn, To set this one soul free. She owes me yet, For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt.

To me he still must be--that know I well-- As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwell He must not come, nor see his mother's face.

Alone for ever, in a caverned place Of silver-veined earth, hid from men's sight, A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light: As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies, Priest of great light and wors.h.i.+pped of the wise.

Howbeit an easier anguish even to me Falls than to Thetis in her azure sea; For her son too shall die; and sorrowing, First on the hills our band for thee shall sing, Then for Achilles by the weeping wave.

Pallas could murder thee, but shall not save Thy foe; too swift Apollo's bolt shall fly.

O fleshly loves of sad mortality, O bitter motherhood of these that die, She that hath wisdom will endure her doom, The days of emptiness, the fruitless womb; Not love, not bear love's children to the tomb.

[_The_ VISION _rises through the air and vanishes_.

LEADER.

The dead man sleepeth in his mother's care; But we who battle still--behold, the glare Of dawn that rises. Doth thy purpose hold, Hector, our arms are ready as of old.

HECTOR. [vv. 986-996]

March on; and bid the allies with all speed Be armed, bind fast the yoke upon the steed, Then wait with torches burning, till we sound The Tuscan trump.--This day we shall confound, G.o.d tells me, their Greek phalanx, break their high Rampart and fire the galleys where they lie.

[_Pointing to the dawn._ Yon first red arrow of the Sun, that brings The dawn to Troy, hath freedom on his wings.

_During the following lines_ HECTOR _goes to his tent to get his s.h.i.+eld, and as he enters sees_ DOLON's _b.l.o.o.d.y wolf-skin hanging. He takes it, looks at it, and throws it down without a word. Then he puts on his helmet, takes his s.h.i.+eld and spear, and follows the Guards as they march off._

CHORUS.

The Chief hath spoken: let his will Be law, ye Trojans.--Raise the cry To Arms! To Arms! and down the line Of allies pa.s.s the battle-sign.

The G.o.d of Ilion liveth still; And men may conquer ere they die.

[_Exeunt._

NOTES

The play presupposes a knowledge of the Iliad in some form, if not exactly in the form which it now wears. We are not only supposed to know that Hector, son of Priam, leads the Trojans and their allies ("Trojans, and Lycians, and Dardans bold": in tragedy they are also called Phrygians) in defence against the Greeks--Argives, Achaeans, h.e.l.lenes--under Agamemnon, king of men, and his brother Menelaus, husband of Helen. This sort of supposition is usual in all Greek tragedy. It merely means that the poet takes for granted the main outlines of the heroic saga. But in this play we are also supposed to take up the story as it stands at the opening of the Doloneia or Tenth Book of the Iliad. Indeed one might almost say that the _Rhesus_ is simply the Doloneia turned into drama and set in the Trojan camp. The only other play that is taken straight from Homer is the Satyr-play, _Cyclops_, which tells the story of Odyssey IX., but it is likely enough that if we possessed more of the earlier epic literature we should find many other plays closely hugging their traditional sources.--The Trojans are camping out on the field of battle, close to the Greek lines.

Hector, always ready for danger, seems to have his tent or log-hut set up quite in the van, just behind the outposts. In Il. X. 415 ff. he is holding counsel with the other chieftains "away from the throng"; the allies are taking their sleep and trusting to the Trojans, who keep awake in groups round the camp fires; no watchword is mentioned.

P. 5, l. 30, The priest.]--He would be needed to make the sacrifice before battle.

P. 5, l. 36, The lash of trembling Pan.]--_i.e._, a panic.

P. 5, l. 41, Great beacons in the Argive line.]--In the Iliad it is the Trojan watch-fires that are specially mentioned, especially VIII.

553-end. There is no great disturbance in the Greek camp in the Doloneia; there is a gathering of the princ.i.p.al chiefs, a visit to the Guards, and the despatch of the two spies, but no general tumult such as there is in Book II. One cannot help wondering whether our playwright found in his version of the Doloneia a description of fires in the Greek camp, such as our Eighth Book has of those in the Trojan camp. The object might be merely protection against a night attack, or it might be a wish to fly, as Hector thinks. If so, presumably the a.s.sembly changed its mind--much as it does in our Book II.--and determined to send spies.

P. 5, l. 43 ff., The s.h.i.+pyard timbers.]--The Greeks had their s.h.i.+ps drawn up on the beach and protected by some sort of wooden "s.h.i.+pyard"; then came the camp; then, outside the whole, a trench and a wall. The fires were in the camp.

P. 8, l. 105, Brother! I would thy wit were like thy spear!]--In Homer Hector is impulsive and over-daring, but still good in counsel. On the stage every quality that is characteristic is apt to be overemphasized, all that is not characteristic neglected. Hence on the Attic stage Odysseus is more crafty, Ajax and Diomedes more blunt, Menelaus more unwarlike and more uxorious than in Homer.