University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Royal Chamber. Adrastus on a couch asleep.
Enter Ion with the knife.
ION.
Why do I creep thus stealthily along
With thief-like steps? Am I not arm'd by Heaven
To execute its justice on a life
Above the reach of mortal law? And now,
Call'd to this awful duty, shall I shrink,
While every moment that it lasts may crush
Some life else happy?—May I be deceived,
Lured by the specious form of noble daring,
Which some foul passion, crouching in my soul,
Roused from long ambush, borrows to undo me?
Assure me, gods!—Yes; I have heard your voices
Aright, for I dare pray ye to look down
And see me stab!
[He goes to the couch.
He's smiling in his slumber,
As if some happy thought of innocent days
Play'd at his heartstrings: must I scare it thence
With mortal agonies? This pity's selfish:
Be firm, my soul!—Yet I'll not filch his life
Thus while he sleeps: he is a culprit doom'd
By the high judgment of supernal Powers,
And he shall know their sentence. Wake, Adrastus!
Collect thy spirits, and be strong to die!

ADRASTUS.
Who dares disturb my rest? Guards! Soldiers! Recreants!
Where tarry ye? Why smite ye not to earth
This bold intruder?—Ha! no weapon here!—
What wouldst thou with me, ruffian?

[Rising.
ION.
I am none,
But a sure instrument in Jove's great hand
To take thy forfeit life;—so make thee ready;
Thy hour is come!

ADRASTUS.
Villains! does no one hear?

ION.
Vex not the closing minutes of thy being
With torturing hope or idle rage; thy guards,
Palsied with revelry, are scatter'd senseless,
While the most valiant of our Argive youths
Hold every passage by which human aid
Could reach thee. Thou art doom'd to present death
By Powers above thy state, and I am sent
To execute their pleasure.

ADRASTUS.
Thou!—I know thee—
The youth I spared this morning, in whose ear
I pour'd the secrets of my bosom. Kill me,
If thou darest do it, but bethink thee first
How the grim memory of thy thankless deed
Will haunt thee to the grave!

ION.
It is most true;
Thou sparedst my life, and therefore do the gods
Ordain me to this office, lest thy fall
Seem the chance forfeit of some single sin,
And not the great redress of Argos. Nature,
The human nature thou hast vex'd and scoff'd at,
Cries out to Heaven against thee—Heaven attends,
And answers it by me! I shall perform
Its bidding firmly, yet with such sad grace
As the law's minister to common men
Is privileged to show. If there is one
Whom dying thou wouldst greet by word or token,
Speak, and believe it done.

ADRASTUS.
I have no friend;
If thou hast courage, strike!

ION.
Without a friend!
Most lonely man!

ADRASTUS.
Ha! thou art melted!

ION.
Hope not
Aught from my weak reluctance; should I spare thee,
My comrades will be masters of our lives,
And we shall fall together. Be it so!

ADRASTUS.
Never; I'll yield to thee alone; dispatch!
I recognise in thee Jove's minister,
And, kneeling thus, submit me to his power.

[Adrastus kneels.
ION.
Avert thy face.

ADRASTUS.
No; let me meet thy gaze;
For breathing pity lights thy features up
Into more awful likeness of a form
Which once shone on me;—and which now my sense
Shapes palpable—in habit of the grave,
Inviting me to the lone shore where night
Shall compass us;—'tis surely there;—she waves
Her pallid hand in circle o'er thy head,
As if to bless thee—and I bless thee too,
Death's gracious angel!—Do not turn away.

ION.
Gods! to what office have ye doom'd me;—now!

[Ion raises his arm to stab Adrastus, who is kneeling, and gazes steadfastly upon him. The voice of Medon is heard without, calling Ion! Ion!—Ion drops his arm.]
ADRASTUS.
Be quick, or thou art lost!

[As Ion has again raised his arm to strike, Medon rushes in behind him.]
MEDON.
Ion, forbear!
Behold thy son, Adrastus!

[Ion stands for a moment stupified with horror, drops the knife, and falls senseless on the ground.]
ADRASTUS.
What strange words
Are these which call my senses from the death
They were composed to welcome. Son! 'tis false—
I had but one, and the deep wave rolls o'er him!

MEDON.
That wave received, instead of the fair nurseling,
One of the slaves who bore him from thy sight
In wicked haste to slay;—I'll give thee proofs.

ADRASTUS.
Great Jove, I thank thee!—raise him gently—proofs!
Are there not here the lineaments of her
Who made me happy once—the voice, now still,
That bade the long-seal'd fount of love gush out,
While with a prince's constancy he came
To lay his noble life down; and the last,
The dreadful, certain proof, that he whose frame
Is instinct with her spirit, stood above me,
Arm'd for the traitor's deed!—It is my child!

[Ion reviving, sinks on one knee before Adrastus.]
ION.
Father!

[Noise without.]
MEDON.
The clang of arms!

Ion.
[Starting up.]
They come! they come!
They who are leagued with me against thy life.
Here let us fall!

ADRASTUS.
I will confront them yet;
Within I have a weapon which has drank
A traitor's blood ere now;—there will I wait them:
Come—nought but death shall separate us more.

[Exeunt Adrastus and Ion as to an inner chamber.
MEDON.
Have mercy on him, gods, for the dear sake
Of your most single-hearted worshipper!

Enter Ctesiphon, Cassander, and others.
CTESIPHON.
What treachery is this—the tyrant fled,
And Ion fled too!—Comrades, stay this dotard
While I search yonder chamber.

MEDON.
Spare him, friends,—
O let him live to clasp his new-found son;
Spare him as Ion's father!

CTESIPHON.
Father! yes—
That is indeed a name to bid me spare;—
Let me but find him, gods!

[He rushes into the inner chamber.
Medon.
[To Cassander and the others.]
Had ye but seen
What I have witness'd, ye would weep with him.

Crythes
enters with soldiers.
Ha, Crythes! hasten to defend your master;
That way—

[As Crythes is about to enter the inner chamber, Ctesiphon rushes from it with a bloody dagger and stops them.]
CTESIPHON.
It is accomplish'd; the foul blot
Is wiped away. Stern shadow of my father,
Look on thy son, and smile!

CRYTHES.
Whose blood is that?
It cannot be the king's!

CTESIPHON.
It cannot be?
Think'st, thou foul minion of a tyrant's will,
He was to crush, and thou to crawl for ever?
Look there, and tremble!

CRYTHES.
Wretch! thy life shall pay
The forfeit of thy deed.

[Crythes and soldiers seize Ctesiphon.
[Enter Adrastus mortally wounded, supported by Ion.]
ADRASTUS.
Here let me rest,—
In this old chamber did my life begin,
And here I'll end it: Crythes! thou hast timed
Thy visit well, to bring thy soldiers hither
To gaze upon my parting.

CRYTHES.
To avenge thee;—
Here is the murderous traitor!

ADRASTUS.
Set him free.—
Why do ye not obey me? Ctesiphon,
Thou hadst just cause for this;—my death is sure;
And as thou hast requited me, I sue
For a small boon—let me not see thee more.

CTESIPHON.
Farewell!
[Exit Ctesiphon.

Adrastus
[to Crythes and the soldiers.]
Why do ye tarry here?
Begone!—still do ye hover round my couch?
If the commandment of a dying king
Is feeble, as a man who has embraced
His child for the first time since infancy,
And presently must part with him for ever,
I do adjure ye leave us!

[Exeunt all but Ion and Adrastus.
ION.
O my father,
How is it with thee now?

ADRASTUS.
Well; very well;—
Avenging Fate hath spent its utmost force
Against me; and I gaze upon my son
With the sweet certainty that nought can part us
Till all is quiet here. How like a dream
Seems the succession of my regal pomps
Since I embraced thy helplessness! To me
The interval hath been a weary one;
How hath it pass'd with thee?

ION.
But that my heart
Hath sometimes ached for the sweet sense of kindred,
I had enjoy'd a round of happy years
As cherish'd youth e'er knew.

ADRASTUS.
I bless the gods
That they have strewn along thy humble path
Delights unblamed; and in this hour I seem
Even as I had lived so; and I feel
That I shall live in thee, unless that curse—
O if it should survive me!

ION.
Think not of it;
The gods have shed such sweetness in this moment,
That, howsoever they deal with me hereafter,
I shall not deem them angry. Let me call
For help to staunch thy wound; thou art strong yet,
And yet may live to bless me.

ADRASTUS.
Do not stir;
My strength is ebbing fast, yet as it leaves me
The spirit of my stainless days of love
Awakens; and their images of joy,
Which at thy voice started from blank oblivion,
When thou wert strange to me, and then half-shown
Look'd sadly through the mist of guilty years,
Now glimmer on me in the lovely light
Which at thy age they wore. Thou art all thy mother's,
Her elements of gentleness enshrined
In an heroic casing.

ION.
Thou art faint;
Can I do nothing for thee?

ADRASTUS.
Yes;—my son,
Thou art the best, the bravest, of a race
Of rightful monarchs; thou must mount the throne
Thy ancestors have fill'd, and by thy goodness
Efface the memory of thy fated sire,
And win the blessing of the gods for men
Stricken for him. Swear to me thou wilt do this,
And I shall die forgiven.

ION.
I will.

ADRASTUS.
Rejoice,
Sufferers of Argos! I am growing weak,
And my eyes dazzle; let me rest my hands,
Ere they have lost their feeling, on thy head.—
So! So!—thy hair is glossy to the touch
As when I last enwreath'd its tiny curl
About my finger; I did image then
Thy reign succeeding mine; and now I die
Contented as I hail thee king of Argos!

[Dies.
ION.
He's dead! and I am fatherless again.—
King did he hail me? shall I make that word
A spell to bid old happiness awake
Throughout the lovely land that father'd me
In my forsaken childhood?
[He sees the knife on the ground, and takes it up.
Most vain dream!
This austere monitor hath bid thee vanish
Ere half reveal'd. Come back, thou truant steel;
Half of thy work the gods absolved thee from,
The rest remains! Lie there!
[He puts the knife in his bosom. Shouts heard without.
The voice of joy!
Is this thy funeral wailing? O my father!
Mournful and brief will be the heritage
Thou leavest me; yet I promised thee in death
To grasp it;—and I will embrace it now.

Enter Agenor and others.
AGENOR.
Does the king live?

ION.
Alas! in me. The son
Of him whose princely spirit is at rest,
Claims his ancestral honours.

AGENOR.
The high thought
Anticipates the prayer of Argos roused
To sudden joy. The sages wait without
To greet thee;—wilt confer with them to-night
Or wait the morning?

ION.
Now;—the city's state
Allows the past no sorrow. I attend them.

[Exeunt.