University of Virginia Library

ORESTES

A METRICAL DRAMA

CHORUS

Orestes—Chorus
ORESTES
Are ye so joyful that the day begins

CHORUS
Ay, for the light is warm upon our brows;
And each new hour is healer of old woes.

ORESTES
I blame you not. Be glad, old men, be glad.
If ye expect at God's hand some good thing,
Why half the gift already ye have known
In hoping it may come; and if it come not
Ye are no worse because of that sweet lie
Called hope, immortal, a strange god. Why these
Are on the very edges of their graves;
I, in my fullest youth, when most men find
Their life one dream of glory and of love,
Detest the rising of this sacred light,
That gives my kingdom joy. Poor kingship mine—
To be a king ruled by a woman's will,
To be a puppet in a soldier's hand,
To wish upon my people infinite good
And hardly ease one bondsman in a year—
So runs my life. The land is full of blood,
And the boy-king sits by and sees it shed
And may not move a finger. Irony
Of kingship, to whose glory each mean wrong
Lifts up his voice to ease it of its load:
While this same king, a shadow with chained feet
Feels heavy hands a bout its neck, and hears
A low eternal whisper, “Sit thou still;
Bide thou and wait: the glory on thy brow,
Poor mock of kingship, surely is enough.
Thou art a boy, sit still, and we will cope
With this rebellious people in thy name.
Is there no blood upon thy father's grave?
Is there no Atè floating like a dream
About these halls? Her beautiful sad eyes
Are very wakeful, and her phantom hands
Beckon for ever terrible; behind
Her white feet and the refluence of her robe,
She holds the strong hounds of her fury bound,
And one she calleth Sin and Blood his mate.”
O royal halls accursèd with great doom,
O firm pavilions of my warrior sires,
Here was your day; your changes and desires
Flared out above the heavy golden bowls,
Till Atè beckoned each one from his seat
And laid him suddenly silent full of blood.
I fear the silence of your banquet hall:
There is a ghostly lip at every cup
Along the vacant tables, and a scent
Of blood arises from the lees of wine,
And the old stains grow darker on the floor.
O grim dead faces crowded at your feasts,
I am your son, and only on my hands
There is no blood, and ye shall have great scorn
Upon your son, because I am clean of death;
But Zeus hath given me curses of your deeds
Clean as I am, degenerate I endure
The taint of your oppressions, O exult,
If so ye will, and hence derive all joy,
That in your urns ye are terrible to harm.

Orestes—Medius
MEDIUS
Give ear, Orestes; the strange waves of time
Have rolled upon our shores this chance event,
That at Larissa's gate with crown and stave
Crannonian heralds enter, and their lips
Are heavy with the messages of kings;
A bitter word from a detested race
The Scopadæ, our kinsmen and our foes,
One with our blood but in our hatred twain:
These look not for thy good, so thou beware,
For a king lives in watchful days and fear.

ORESTES
Brother in love, poor courier at the best,
Why do you din this “king” into mine ears?
Why waste your breath and colour on this news?
Tell it my robe and crown, they are the king;
Or shall my regent mother fast of news
While I am fed? I thank you for this love;
But, in God's name, I am merely your poor friend,
And mock me not with this old lying song
I hear all day: for I am almost sure
You are the only man that loves me here.
Consider then I am a fine great king
That cannot move one soldier without leave,
Of that meek soul, my general, wholly mine,
Because he is so careful lest the reins
Should slip my puny fingers, that he keeps
The royal driving bench sole charioteer.
Tell me, good Medius, since I am unthroned,
I'll be a loyal subject, if I knew
Whom to obey, that's the confusion of it:
For now my mother is regent like the moon;
And then this Simus rules us like the sun;
I shall turn out a rebel, ere I know it,
By crying out at night, long live king Phœbus.

MEDIUS
That Simus loves you, lord, I do believe,
But he loves all things after his own will.
For there is this infirmity in men,
That, having watched one growing from a child,
They hold him always child, and cannot see
The mighty years breathing all wisdom in:
So ripens he, but they the old men wane—
Behold, my lord, the envoys.

Dyseris, Simus, an Envoy. His attendants, Orestes, Medius
DYSERIS
Speak thou again thy message to our son,
Whose unripe years unmeet for such a load
Have laid his sceptre in my woman's hands;
For youth has but one wisdom, to allow
The sway of elders wholly on its days.
Therefore our son sits at one side of power,
Speaks thro' our lips and governs thro' our eyes.

SIMUS
And deem not, envoy, this a feeble throne
Because a Queen is regent: in her hand
The army lies obedient, since I am
To her least breath obedient, and I move
The army as the whisper of the wind
Leans all the infinite foliage one white way.

ENVOY
The Lords of Crannon to Larissa hail.
Know then, Orestes, that the years are young
Since thy sire came against us with much noise:
His horsemen laughed against our gates, they said,
“We shall prevail, we only. Surely now
They lie beneath the shadow of our sword:
Is there a god to save them? no not one.”
Then we rose up in anger, and behold
The harvest lay as embers, and a smoke
Went up among our vineyards: ye were brave
Only in mischief, and the cry of us
Broke you like water. Number out the slain;
Search in their faces for the lordly men,
The captains and the princes and a king:
Thrust ye a sceptre in this dead man's hand;
Ye will not give his fingers craft to close.
Thus with your armies we have dealt, and still
Our wounds are green upon you. Ye abode
Since in your precincts, as still dogs, to whom
Our mercy gave time to heal up your sores,
Knowing ye had no heart to take revenge.
But now the swift wing of our vengeance holds
To the Dolopian valleys who have heard
Our fear and have not felt it; rebel-wise
Boasting themselves; to abolish these we go.
So shall our city, emptied of its best,
Warm back your chidden courage; and our beeves
A tempting war, all plunder and no blows,
Flood out your rabble soldiers to our scathe.
And tho' returning with one blast and tread
We should make these as mire upon our ways,
We will not that our old men sit at home
And have such curs come yelping round their chairs.
Therefore, Orestes, I demand this thing
That thou deliver hostage to our lords,
Either thyself, or of the Aleuad race
The nearest to thy throne; that ye will hold
All peace, us absent; that our foals shall graze,
And our corn redden in his time: and more
Thou shalt not chase a locust from our vines,
Or hew one oil-tree from our orchard sides.
But if ye set your stubborn face to send
No surety that ye mean to hold your hands,
Then, look your graves be ready, and make ripe
Your eyes for weeping; for we come with power
To bruise you in such fell anger, ere we go,
That your lame city shall not dare to raise
One finger till we come again in peace.

DYSERIS
Ye have done an arrogant message with proud lips,
Ye know your herald office guards you well.
Your lords are brave against a woman's throne.
We will turn over these big blaring words
In our good time, so leave us, and expect
In certain hours our answer.

Dyseris—Orestes—Simus
DYSERIS
And our son
Is he so voiceless, when these men have scorned
His father's ashes, and the general realm
Cracks under my weak hand? No word, my son?

ORESTES
Why should I speak, my mother, or why refrain?
You know I am but shadow of your will.
You will do things after your desire
And not my counsel. Therefore am I dumb
But most obedient. Say, I am a boy:
Call back the envoys, use thy smoothest tongue,
Or blow red-hot defiance down their throats,
How should I care? I can play even and odd.

DYSERIS
So is my care repaid with sullen words,
So is my mother's love held love of power.
Women, I charge you that ye hate your sons,
Leave to the spoiler all their heritage,
Guard nothing for the boy, or he will say
“Thou hast usurped an honour that is mine.”
I tell thee, boy, thy dumb obedient ways
Are rank rebellion. Say, thou wilt be king;
Hath a king then no mother, hath Zeus set
No law of nature binding even these?
Is this fair world one godless, loveless jumble,
Full of strange beasts and evil-lusted things
Wrangling together for a greasy hide?
Nay, in God's name, I will put off this power:
Get me a little wood-lodge, and mope there,
Teaze wool and weep, correct one serving-maid,
And creep down to Larissa once a-year
To get me a new girdle, and taste a cup,
At my son's palace-gate.

SIMUS
By Pallas, queen,
This is an idle contest with thine own.
Let thy son rest; resign ye both the power:
So shall these men have answer of the god
Whose shrine this house has thickened with much gold;
This shall the god remember in our need,
And save us with his wisest oracle.

ORESTES
O mother, there is no oracular voice
So fit to guide a man and keep him noble
As his own spirit. By my father's grave,
By the last clasping, mother, of his hand,
Leave me to sit an hour upon his seat
And give these men their answer. For I know
It is a peaceful god that Simus keeps
To oracle his bidding, a calm god,
Even if a man shall smite him in his face;
Willing of hostage, a poor mild weak god,
Crying to Crannon, ye are great my lords,
Deign, ye great lords, to set your iron heels
Upon our upturned faces.

DYSERIS
Simus, go,
Bring us the god's word, for by this we stand.
Heed not this peevish boyhood. If he rail
Against the gods, how shall he spare his own?

Dyseris—Orestes
DYSERIS
And I have nursed this thing and called it son,
That makes its wicked laughter at the gods.
This I have fostered, this I have given the breast,
That tells me rule is not for womankind;
I have presumed, have taken on myself,
Have hired a god to lie upon my side,
A poor weak mumbling copper-greedy god.
Ah, madman, is the sky so very clear
That in no cloud sits scathing flame of Zeus
To reach thee? I to let thee reign, and wind
In thy first hour of kingship ruinous war
About Larissa like a net, to sate
Thy lunatic humours? I, that love thee still
Somewhat, am brave to hold thee from thy bane,
And say, thou shalt not reign, if my poor life
Can keep thee crownless till thy wisdom grows.

Orestes
ORESTES
And I believe that some one man or two,
Some poor or ignorant man about this land
May envy me, Orestes, as I stand
Here at my palace-gate, broad plains beyond,
Under a quiet sky, and at my feet
The mad glad year flushing in myriad blooms
Why are things happy? Wherefore with such care
Dost thou trim out thy little bell, road-weed?
Nothing shall heed, if thou art beautiful,
Or the first foot should crush thee; as I would,
But do not, being a tender milky fool,
Hating myself, and losing the pith of time
Upon thine insignificance. To act
And to act merely, cleansing from my brain
These weak irresolute fumes of thought, that hold
My hand suspended from the vital sword,
That sets me with this Simus throat, to throat,
And thrusts these boasters with defiance home.
Ah, to have done with thought and see my way,
Then were I man. Or, would that God had sown
That blind bull-instinct in my soul, which drives
Sheer at the end, and counts not. And I stand
And tell myself, fool, thou must act and now,
The very edge of time and of thy fate;
Let this dial creep an inch of shadow, and lose
All—What is all? Life I suppose: not much.
The curse of all my nature, self-mistrust,
Makes me still palter here.

CHORUS

Simus—Eudicus
SIMUS
I tell thee, light thy tripod, lose no time,
Set thy prophetic gear in working trim
And bring me these four words “Orestes goes
As hostage.” Spin the rest out as you please,
About God's will or man's moralities—
Despatch, I'll hear your scruples afterwards.
Tell the god it was my fault, if you please.

EUDICUS
Kinsman, I owe you all things, and I were,
Without you, as the meanest leprous thing
Huddled in rags upon our temple stair:
Yet, I entreat you, bear me not too hard.
I have sold the god before at your great word,
And live to say it with my brazen lips,
Daring to crawl in the sun's sacred eye;
Abject I am; and now you bid me sell
My king—nay, let me speak, for speak I will—
These kinsmen are as treacherous as the grave;
And I must sell Orestes to their fangs,
Making God murder that have made God lie.

SIMUS
I never knew a priest who'd yet do wrong
Without some prelude of his good intentions,
The worthy men cling to appearance so,
Well, now you've had your say and get this done.
I say you must: still stubborn? Well, hark here;
You have a daughter: she's a tender maid
And you are tender of her. But maids' feet
Are apt to slip. I hope this one's may not,
But, trust me, Sir, I fear it if I find
You stubborn to my wish. 'Tis not so easy
To hold my hot rash soldiers under rein,
Whom the law dares but wink at. There, it's done;
Since your eyes tell me you consent, my friend,
And you shall bring me in this oracle
With all the inspiration hot upon it.

Eudicus
EUDICUS
And I, this demon's kinsman, love my child:
And I, this demon's slave, must do worse work,
Because I fear him. I am an old weak man
That have done evil, reaping little fruit
Of evil in evil days. I shall go down
Contented to the dust: and Minos there
Shall crease his brows and mutter in great gloom,
Saying “This wretch hath surely found of sweet,
Little in evil. Let him go, he has been
Enough above tormented.” But, my dove,
My one pure blossom, shall aught ill reach her,
Which one more crime to her old father's load
May yet avert? I'll take this guilt with joy.
Certain it is I forge this oracle;
Yet will I warn Orestes thro' her lips,
For I do love the youth, and there is bud
Of love between them, as I think.

Eudicus—Archedice
EUDICUS
My daughter,
We are well met,—I cannot tell you much;
There is a grain of mischief set in earth
Likely to fruit most deadly. O my child,
I trust thee tho' a maid for secret lips—
These things are death, being said in open day—
But you have hourly speech with the young king,
And no one heeds his talk with a mere girl;
Warn him from one that loves him and knows all,
That as he loves his people and long days,
He go not hostage with these envoys home.

ARCHEDICE
My father, I could tremble and weep tears
As maidens use, but these I will lay by
Till I have done thy bidding; I were base,
Seeing our noblest dangered, to be dainty
To step in safe ways only. Is it much
To do my king such service? Is it more,
Than once my ancient playmate did for me?
When, children both, we, playing in the ling,
He tore a coiling serpent from my arm.
Shall I then tremble? My girl arm alone
Shall reach and pluck this snaky danger down,
That rears itself against our royal head.
I would that Medius had some hint of this,
He would help me and guard Orestes best.

EUDICUS
See, thou speak not with Medius on this thing:
Have with Orestes only thy prompt word.
Why we shall have a dozen helpers soon,
In this our secret: go, content thee, girl.

ARCHEDICE
Ah, you know not how Medius loves our king,
Watches his eye, guesses his every mood,
Breathes in his favour, gladdens in his smile;
Send Medius with him, shall no harm ensue,
Yet am I silent, since you deem it best,
I go to warn Orestes, and ye gods
Clothe with persuasion now my feeble lips.

Simus
SIMUS
This boy grows restive in his leading-strings.
Mistrusts me, is grown dangerous, wants to rule.
I rule the mother, and with her I fall;
And when this boy shall feel his baby-feet
A little surer on the ground, we pack;
And we that ruled so firm and sat so high,
Are cast aside like worn-out hunting hounds.
Shall it be so, child prince, with thy desire?
Shall I, the warrior, kneel at this boy's feet,
And say, “My lord, if I have served thee well,
Lend me a cottage. I grow stiff and old,
But fain would crawl my days out somewhere near,
Whence I could see thee rule and bless thee ruling”—
Nay, let Olympus crack and each god's throne
Tumble to Hades, if I do not hate thee
In thy mute still resistance to my sway,
And the reproach of that pale boyish face;
I have no cause to love thee, and my hate
Shall be the hatred of a god that slays
And leaves no token. And I love my power,
As the great purple Zeus loves his, when one
Would filch it and he wakens; and a mist
Of wrath makes tremble the ambrosial courts.
Touch a god's power, he throws his thunderbolt,
And I launch mine, so safe that none can trace
The hand that dealt it. And all men shall cry,
Shame on these traitor envoys in whose train
Orestes went and never came again,
Under their keeping hostage. Crannon slew
The sire in open fight. Conclusion good,
That, finding easier way to rid the son,
They'll not be so nice-fingered to refrain
For a poor oath or twain; when one fat bull
Having his throat cut duly to the god,
Sops up the perjury of it.

Orestes—Archedice
ARCHEDICE
O my lord,
How can I make you think I am in earnest?
If only a feeble girl my words are weak,
Has not my poor pale face some warning in it?
You only smile, and trifle with my hand,
As if I said, the mulberry crop was late
Or like to be; or that my tiring girls
Had sung me a new lyric song about
The swallow in the acanthus column head
Thinking the white sails of the ships her young
Gone home before her; or some everyday
Speech of a girl's most trivial peaceful moods;
When we must chatter anything because
We are happy. I beseech you, Orestes, hear,
I, the weak girl, say to you—death, death, death.
And thrice again. And could I warn my lord,
I would repeat the weary burthen over
Of death, death, death, till sundown. O forget
The weak girl once you played with: I am changed,
A woman; for this death play of the world
Lets us be girls no longer, to plait wreaths
And smile and trifle. Nay, by Artemis,
I will forget henceforth to be a girl—
Return not, O return not with these men.
Lo, I have said; and like a seer foretell
Death to my lord if I speak vainly now.
Respect the message and despise the seer
So thou obey. Consider, if Zeus spake
Thro' me, my ineffectual lips would change
The thunder warning to a maiden's threat—
Believe me, Zeus speaks now and bide at home.

ORESTES
Why, these are wild words for my pretty maid,
I am not worth so fair a Pythoness
To trouble her sweet bosom about my doom.
Dear, be content, this poor unvalued life
Has been so rocked with danger and racked with care,
It is not worthy the sweet drops your eyes
Have trembled on their lashes, no not one
Round perfect tear from either precious light
Dimmed with the pity of old days for me.
Ah, dearest, my best days are knit with thee
And Medius. What is this you say, my sister?
As if with you and Medius long ago
I had not trusted my soul's secret ways,
The old weak dangerous groanings of my life;
The sullen wretch disprinced, and fettered down
In stately bondage, old before his time,
The boy without his boyhood, the court slave,
With a fresh scheme a day to free himself,
And a most craven hesitating fear
Lest his thought turn a monster in the deed.
Add to so mean a creature, that he knows
A curse is on his race; whose sure still feet
Strengthened of Zeus in his good hour to come,
Sits at these royal gates invisible
Until God say, “Arise, and enter in,
As you have waited long, so sweet shall be
Your vengeance.” And, who knows? if pity for me
Has given all quickness to your innocent ears
To catch the deadly feet and trailing robes
Soonest of all; ah dearest, let them come.

ARCHEDICE
You have made me weep: I reel in this great dread:
And my feet fail as tho' I trod among
Deep drifted sands: the life about my heart
Fails off like water. O, pity is a thing
Mighty to break the very nerve of life.
Ah, your hand here, Orestes: I am well
After a little: I will not tremble more—
I have forgotten all I meant to say—
Indeed, your words have moved me very much.
I see my poor lips will not make you heed:
I am most foolish and had best begone.

ORESTES
Tender and sweet, I love thee for thy fear;
But fate is stronger, dove, than pity of thine.
If this lord death is seated in my path,
There is no side road, dear, I must go on.
Better to meet him smiling than with tears,
Careless than careful; let us reason this.
The wise man sees in life no thing complete;
Love only is a music heard at times
Among the noisy nothings that consume
The pith of life, void effort, stale desires,
And nights of awful silence laid between
Days where no light is sweet upon the eyes:
Therefore, I thank thee for thy warning, sweet,
Fearing not much, so evil are the days,
Save I shall be where thy smile may not come.

Orestes—Dyseris—Simus—Eudicus—Medius—The Envoy—Attendants
DYSERIS
Envoys of Crannon, if we answered now,
Wise in man's wisdom, which is sure of feet
A little while and falters at the end,
We could mouth answer arrogant as ye.
But we have laid our pride upon the knees
Of ever-wakeful gods, whose oracle
We are dumb servants wholly to obey—
Eudicus, priest and seer, read in God's name.

EUDICUS
So please you, I am old and feeble-tongued
Before this frequence to mar God's reply.
Let Simus read, so shall no one word fail,
He hath the throat of Ares and Zeus' eyes.

SIMUS
The God who sits in intense light beyond
Our darkness, under whose eternal eyes
The cloud of human sorrow like a dream
Floats by, and his breath guides it. Under whom,
Like some far mere with ripples, human life
Now burns with light, now chills with blue-black storm,
The mighty saith, “Why will ye weary me,
Children of men, in my ineffable joy;
Why will ye taint the sweet of my repose
With groaning and with travail and with tears?
Your life is nothing to me, nor your joy.
Am I the judge of death and fate and time?
Yea, as these things reach you and yours, I am none.
Yet as this little city that now calls
Up to my throne, hath set my sanctuary
With cedar ledges and with golden lavers,
Making my name a glory, I will answer
To these men only, “Let Orestes go
With these men fearless, going he shall gain
A quiet empire and much after-peace.”
Thus far the god: and thou, Orestes, heed.
Do thou God's word and he shall fence thy throne.

DYSERIS
And is our son obedient to begone?

ORESTES
Ay, mother, most obedient, and thy son—
It is a strange superfluous word this “son,”
Meaning—well, that's no matter now, but strangely
You have recalled some silly memories
Using it now, just ere I go: they are gone.
Ready am I, ay, merry to begone,
Why I shall be as safe upon my road
As in my palace here, therefore most safely.
And I will trust the faith of these same men
As your and Simus' love. How am I riched
In trusty loving friends. Sirs, let us go;
There are some hours of sunlight to run down,
They'll serve us well. You have fared well I hope
In our poor palace; do you like this strange
Quaint tracery of our walls? I think the artist
Was an Athenian: nay, Sirs, after you;
Mother and trusty Simus, if “farewell”
Were not unnecessary on a journey
So safe as this, I'd say it.

Dyseris—Simus
DYSERIS
So he goes.
He is well gone— you told me it was best,
Told me and showed me, did you not, my Simus?
Confirm me now: I wished him gone, God knows,
And yet a kind of dread has taken me,
That these men lie, or that you lie; forgive me,
I am only weak and womanly with you.
The world holds me an iron queen to break
All opposition, my son holds me so,
An iron woman with one dream of power—
Ay, and till you came, surely power was all,
And found the secret of my heart, that I
Dreamed not could ever move at a man's step.
Did I not hate him, this boy's father? Yea,
I wept, but there was no salt bitterness
In all my ready widow's tears; as these
Laid down my clumsy spouse with a knave's knife
In his fine armour joinings, and they said
The hind that slew him had a mere wool coat.
And then you held the army, and at first
You feared as all men feared me. How you dared
Speak love to such a woman? I remember,
The strange and sneering laughter at my heart,
That I should hear this tale of girl and boy;
And verily I think, had I not feared
Your men, I should have mocked out to your face.
And so, as you persisted, day by day
It came less strange—No, I will not go on,
But for this boy, my Simus, is he safe?
He thwarts me, and I love him not, but still
I would subdue him wholly to my will.
But I would keep him safe of other scathes.
Tell me, these envoys, can you trust them, Simus?

SIMUS
Queen and my love, we had no choice but yielding.
Orestes they demanded; being strong
And knowing us revengeful, no mean head
Could give them any safety of our peace.
Had we refused to send, what else but war?
And our hired spears that overawe the town,
Are good enough for plunder and stone walls,
But against Crannon's armies like a smoke
They would be broken. And Orestes ran
More risk abiding war than going in peace
At these same envoys' heels. Be thou content;
For all is well, and thou shalt rule the days
In large dominion a great queen and fair.

CHORUS

Medius—Archedice
ARCHEDICE
I would Orestes had not gone alone.
You should have hung, ay Medius, on his hand,
Fought back refusal, run thro' all degrees
Of subtle-voiced entreaty. Are you sure
He would not have you with him? O ill pride
That will not halve its dangers with a friend.

MEDIUS
I was importunate enough, my sweet,
But with a sad brow he put back my hand,
Saying, “The taint of fate is heavy on me:
I charge thee leave me this small joy in woe,
That I have dragged down these steep fateful ways
No soul I loved: lo, I entreat this joy:
Ah, friend, suppose a flock in fair crisp fields
Feeding among the flowers, by the cool beat
Of some hill fountain; and of these god's curse
Searches one out and singles him for death:
He will no longer feed with those he loves;
But some great instinct, higher than he knows,
Urges him out to creep to some lone place,
Far from the bleatings and low chiming bells,
And die there lest his taint infect the rest.
Wilt thou have man more selfish than the beast?
If my vague fears mean nothing, then I need
No escort; but, if otherwise, this tree
Is touchwood, branded for the hewer long,
And only spared, lest crashing down it tear
Some healthier sapling's branches under it.”

ARCHEDICE
Ah, Medius, if I dared unveil to thee
One corner of a secret vague and deadly,
Which came to me unsought, and made my breath
Catch with the terror of it newly found—
And I must tell no man, not even thee—
These are no vague fears of my lord Orestes,
But they have root deep, wide, and intricate.
And I, weak girl, must hear these things and fold
My useless hands, and close my trembling lips.

MEDIUS
And thee alone Orestes told this dread?

ARCHEDICE
I may not even say who told it me:
In pity do not question any more.

MEDIUS
It was Orestes: great and chiefly blest,
Ay, tho' he walk to death in this same hour,
Having thy love. My doubt breaks up, ah sweet,
Altho' I never doubted, never gave
My weakest idiot wish an hour to dwell
Beyond the thought but that this must be so—
I pray you let me speak a little while
Any mad treason to my friend and king,
And then I will hold peace for evermore,
Against the only brother of my love;
Whom I will love still, spite of this mean god,
This demon selfish Eros, that would strain
Brothers asunder: O forgive me, dear,
But I was burying all my hope so deep,
And taking one last glance at its fair face;
That in my hour of weakness, I forgot
And raved a little at its funeral
A few mad raving words, unworthy of all
The sacred love between my prince and me.
Ah; you will not believe me noble more,
And I have cursed myself to your pure eyes
With this mean selfish babble: dear heart and wise
And tender, this concede me at the least,
That till this hour, when some fierce shameful fiend
Tore me within and mastered me to speak,—
I saw the flower of all his nobleness
Expand beneath thy beauty and thy breath.
I saw thee with his love more beautiful,
I saw him with thy presence strengthened, sweet,
As roses feed on light of intense air.
I saw this thing, loving and blessing both;
And then I had nobility enough—
I fallen since so meanly may boast this—
That till this hour no breath of treason-love,
Broke in on this sweet music. Now, ay me,
Sweet trust is ended for me with you both.

ARCHEDICE
Indeed, indeed, O Medius, you are gone
Upon wide ways of speech most wide astray—
I cannot tell, indeed I hardly keep
My reeling brain, such changes, strange and new
Leap out upon me. I, who lived so still,
And all these things crowd on me in a day.
You have forced me into speaking, lest all harm
Ensue, these things unspoken. O, indeed,
I cannot speak these matters: you are cruel
Mistaking thus: will you not see? Orestes
Has never loved me with the love you mean,
Gentle to all, more gentle to a girl
And his old play-mate: but for other thought,
He sits a prince among the clouds insphered
Out of my reach, almost a god; and I,
Loving in this regard, have given him long
Obedience, admiration, and all love
Except the love of lovers. I would sear
My hand to the bone in serving him, and yet
If he should kiss me for some service done,
'Twould be as tho' I kissed Apollo's feet,
As he stands marble in my father's temple.
Or give the image life and godlike ways,
And let him walk among us many years,
Give me to know him as I know Orestes,
Think you, I'd love him, Medius, as you mean?
Without equality no love can grow,
This must men find or, finding not, imagine:
Hence has love root, nor without this endures.

MEDIUS
I have been strangely clouded by this error:
Now is my sky right suddenly fair beyond,
And all my baseness to my friend is made
Suddenly nothing, like a great black cloud
Split by a heap of flying light and crumbled.
I breathe in joy, like a large rushing air:
O best and tender, thou may'st hear me now,
Hear me, and find no falsehood on my lips
To him our king to whom we twain will bind
Our chiefest service; and that we may serve him
Together, there is sweetness in the word,
Dear, let me bind thee with the dearest bond
That this earth owns. O, I have shivered long
In that chill shadow laid beyond the rays
Of thy white presence. Like a burning light
Thou movest intense morning with a sound
Of breezes in among my days: O great
Dawning of gold and rose: I love thee, love thee;
Yea, I will clothe thee round with glorious love,
Clothe thee and hide thee from out all gods' eyes,
Lest thou allure them from their barren clouds;
I'd set thee in the deepest heaven a star
For manifold adoring—I would spread
My hungry arms all night to thee in prayer,
Thy beam should touch me only on the earth,
The waters should not take thy glitterings,
The crisp firs should not silver under thee.
Forgive me, if I soar up like a lark
In ardours, and in fancies, and the wild
Exuberance of light, that breaks my words
Like clouds in pieces wildly—O love, love,
According to thy sweetness take thou me
Not to mine undeserving: rightly mine,
Have we not been together many years
As children use: so let thy hand lie there;
There is a fire comes from it soft and sleek.
You were a little maiden, I remember,
And I remember how you wet your feet
Wading for Iris, and leaning you could only
Touch the creased silky curtains of one bloom
That tore and snapped off short upon the head;
And you would have me dry your feet in grass,
And seeing the gold anther dust among
Your hair, I kissed it—as I may, my sweet,
Now, may I not? But thy ripe blossom of lips
Draws down my face like that old flower you brought me.

ARCHEDICE
Ah, Medius, God has made this day for me
Tender and bright and gracious in all joy.
I will not tremble any more, dear heart,
Let me look straight now into thy true eyes
And tell thee nothing shaming all my soul.
Love is not love which has to the loved one shame,
I will not fear to tell you everything;
That I have wondered, ah, these many days,
If Medius cared for such poor maid as I.
And sometimes when I saw you glad to come,
As the sun fell, and make me leave my weaving
And walk among the vineyards, and look out
To Pindus crushing in his crags among
A rosy crumble of the clouds; each leaf
Around us seemed to live with the low voice
Of the infinite insect whisper, and I used
To think then that indeed we loved each other;
And yet you said no word of love to me.

MEDIUS
The glory of my life has massed itself
Into this moment; all succeeding years
Be fed with rosy rays from this one point,
When you and I gave each the other, and made
One crowning life and perfect fruit of time:
One, one, for ever: dost thou understand,
Nor shudder at that dim and mighty ‘always,’
Where linking thy sweet arm in mine, we go
Unknowing, but, with me, an inseparate life?
As when two children the first time we went
To school together, 'twas an unknown journey,
Some poor half furlong, yet how vague it seemed
And terrible; we went out hand in hand—
We are but children now in God's high way:
But with me thou wilt fear not: and I seal
This sacred compact the old lover's way:
Ah, dear, thy lips have filled me like the morning
With dew and perfume.

ARCHEDICE
Dear, my hair has fallen:
Now let me put it back. O wonder of love:
Yet is not happiness a selfish thing,
I had forgot—Orestes and his danger?
O, I foretell, he will be glad of this,
So the fair heavens preserve him safely home,
Which all gods grant. We'll make him guess, my Medius,
What has befallen: nay—you shall not; come.

Dyseris—Messenger
DYSERIS
The place is private, man, speak out, and make
Thine eyes more quiet: is Orestes dead,
Or Crannon marching on us? Neither? Then
Get back thy face in colour, smoothe thy brows,
And make thy sides heave less: speak, and speak soon.

MESSENGER
Lady and Queen, the gods are good this day
Unto Larissa; such a deadly thing
Crested against this kingdom is full fear
Have they put forth their strength, and dashed to ground.
For know, when lord Orestes and the rest
Of the Crannonian envoys, in slow train
Had issued from out the city gates, they wound
To the open, with their faces set south-west
Riding to Crannon. The great land lay bare
For the first hour with pasture-plain, and spread
Of maize and millet; over which the wind
Taketh his pastime with all murmur, and bound
Is none to stay the level of his feet.
After a while, the uplands with their girdle
Of mulberry and of oil-tree, break the plain
With knoll and breasted ground; and, last, behind
The barrier of the mighty broken hills
Laid black in heaven, seamed into gloomy vales
With flushes of fierce rains, and scored asunder
With lapse of weathered crag; huge island rocks
Fallen for ever from their seat of stars,
Bedded in turfy shales, the crags above
With all their splinters raw by the loss of them.
Thro' these the defile winds: a sheer rock-wall
To right rubbed smooth by the clinging backs of mules,
To left a torrent, a tall pine-tree's height
Below it, churning white its green-black shed
Of sheer ledge-running water. Here the steeds
Clomb by in single rank, Orestes leading;
When from the very heart of the mountain road,
Where a man's cry is like a grasshopper's
Against the torrent thunder, these two men,
Perfectly armed, fell on Orestes ere
A man could say “behold them.” One at his throat,
While the other stabbed the steed, and so all four
Fell struggling in the path some four spans wide.
And first the beast fell over the sheer road
To the horrible torrent, crushing through pine-boughs,
And, tangled in the reins, it dragged the man
That stabbed it; and he, seeing death below,
Plucked at the rock and tore a great slab out,
Falling, but fell a horrible soft heap
Upon a ledge and round him boiled the flood
But could not move him, but it bore the steed
Far down: and then Orestes, thy brave son,
Feeling the mighty spirit of his race
Rise in him, and a joy, like no joy else,
To be about the dizzy ecstasy
Of a life conflict, wrenching from the rock
A boulder fitted to his hand, he smote
The robber full in the mouth, and stunned the man.
And all this in an instant, so the first
Of the envoys being twenty paces back
When the men sprang, came only up to find
The conflict over, and to help thy son
To bind the fallen man, whom now they bring
In bonds to question whence this treason grew.
And now already is this rumour blazed
About the city, and the priests flood out
With votive hymn and fillets and long staves
And cups of wine wool-crowned; and all the flower
Of maidens meet them, plaiting roses in
Their soft and heavy lengths of tangle-gold,
Moving in dance their tender limbs, and making
Their light robes' refluence flash like light behind
In the low sun; while flute and cymbal throb
Thank all the Gods—There, plainly thou can'st hear them.

DYSERIS
I hear the voice as of a people's love,
When the king comes from victory, I hear
One pulse of adoration to the gods.
He is cold of soul, who when a nation flows
One-hearted to the altar-step, will keep
His knee from bending; and I too will raise
My voice among the very least of these,
Since my son lives. I will forget my queendom
And push among the market-maids to get
A crowded kneeling corner at the shrine.
Thou hast done thy message fairly: with thanks go!

Dyseris
DYSERIS
I am alone at last: what does this mean?
I fear and dare not shape my fear in thought.
I only in this universal joy
Stand brooding with my mantle round my brows:
I only, a mother, with my son new-snatched
From that unknown conclusion and fierce dread,
Loiter to meet him with my sullen feet:
Am I not glad then, nay, I think I am not!
And yet I know that had he died, my sorrow
Would have bit keenly enough: Why this cold mother
Spoke angrily to Simus when he went
About his safety, and now knowing him safe
I care no jot: am I a monster then?
I were a perfect queen, but for one spot
Upon my iron will, that one taint love.
So am I bound to Simus. Strange it is,
That I, whom all obey, should have found one
My master; him I fear because I know not
Whither this man may lead me, on what ways
Of bloody mire, not to be trod of queens.

CHORUS

Dyseris—Orestes—The Envoys—A Bound Soldier
DYSERIS
Hail, O my son, I greet thee with full heart;
From what a danger thou returning bearest
Beautiful victory on thy helm, and sweet
Garland of praise in thy strong hand. O boy,
Kingly and born of kings, thy mother I
Greet thee with golden joy; O land, break out
Into all singing: let thick incense hide
In clouds the altar, and one throb of mirth
Call Pæan over Ossa to the sea.

ORESTES
Mother, this thing is said, and well no doubt:
The words are warm, I thank you as I ought
To thank you: weigh my thanks against your love,
You will not totter with the burden much.
And now, O queen, retire to the inner hall,
For I must question with these envoys much
Of this maimed thief: this is no woman's show;
We cannot choose our words to suit your presence,
And this same question is about my life,
A matter in which I cannot, with your leave,
Admit your regency to judge about,
Being the only poor thing wholly mine:
The rest judge you in purple: now begone.

THE ENVOY
Thou hast well said, Orestes, and I swear
That Crannon aids thee to the end in this
To sift this web of treason utterly out.
We have seen the drift of this conspiracy:
The ill-done business of this robber's knife
Was to have laid its blood at our clean doors.
Some would have said, “This traitor Crannon tears
A hostage life in the mountains.” And all Greece
Crying full shame, we had in vain denied,
With whom you went alone your enemies.
It was a nice contrivance, and we owe
The authors ample amends: let these rest sure
Of payment when our messenger shall come
To Crannon with these tidings. More than this,
Thou hast, Orestes, our full heart and aid
To take thy power upon thyself: we have seen
Thee true and brave among this town of curs.
Speak as thou wilt and trust us on thy side.

DYSERIS
I will not tarry long: ye are my foes
And may say all against me; and my son,
Banded with you, shames not to glance in words
Against me; which, if Simus, whom I marvel
Tarries so long, had heard, you should go hence
Howling, high envoys as you are. But since
I am a woman you are brave against me:
Prosper, my son, in thy unnatural league,
The gods have saved thee once, do thou beware
Their future thunder.

THE ENVOY
With a threat she is gone;
Methinks, Orestes, you play hide and seek
With death all day in this same palace of yours.
The place looks quiet surely: there's no blood
About the columns: but it seems to me
You have but one safe subject and he's here
With his arms bound, and his allegiance lasts
No longer than his cordage.

ORESTES
Kind old man,
Thou friendly foeman, loving hater, rock
To an abandoned man, thou seest my life;
Its very fear has grown an old stale thing
With me: I used to shudder once and tremble
If the ground cracked beneath me: in old days
I used to wake and fear some gliding hand
With a cold edge thrust thro' the tapestry—
All this is over, use is a strange thing:
And yet my very fear had more life in it
Than this inactive settled apathy.
I swear to you I have not had two moments
Real living like the instant when I felt
This man's gripe close about my throat, and I
Reeled with him: it was over but too soon.
Action is everything: then was I man,
And these boy humours fell like flakes away.
We breathe by action: O for a life of deed,
Continual deed, with this pale hair-splitter
Called thought thrust by forever.

THE ENVOY
Prince, proceed
To question out this man of sullen brows:
So shall we know whose hand has launched this bolt
So shall we find what column of thy throne
Is fretted into touchwood, and so cut out
The length so honey-comb'd with rottenness,
And undergird with adamant instead
Thy seat of glory, that all men shall say
Orestes sits as firm as any king
In these Thessalian plains between Olympus
And the rough Malian bending of the sea.

ORESTES
Speak, thou lean wolf, if thou canst find some voice
Between those tufts of tawny beard; declare
Whose gold has made thy hand itch for my blood?
What is it to thee who fills Larissa's throne?
Would it put one more crust between thy teeth
This change of kings? shall such a mud-fish feel
The ripple of storm upon the upper sea
When the high cedar falters? Hate is none
Between us; thee I never can have injured,
Or that dead other dog in the ravine
With the flood churning round his sallow face
And strained persistent eyes—I never stole
Thy loaf, thy child, thy flesh-pot on feast days,
I never beat the thatch of thy hut in,
Or haled thee from thy sleep into the rain—
It cannot be my fate should have crossed thine,
With thy blind animal yearnings, with no light
Born in thine eyes at nature's holy ways,
Waking to feed and sleep and hate and fear;
I can have no community with thee,
That walk in all soft places, and live sweet,
That pasture delicate thoughts, and airy dreams
Of weeding out the man into the god—
While the gods laugh at all my posturing,
And hold me much as thee for all my pride,
Who cannot call my life an hour my own,
And feel fierce joy, as brutish as thy joys,
In grappling with a dog like thee for life.

THE ENVOY
Thou hast heard the prince; know, there are bitter ways
To make dumb dogs find voices: spare thyself
The worst of these and speak, who set thee on?

THE SOLDIER
I will speak nothing: if I told his name
He would destroy me in some subtle way:
Tell or tell nothing, plainly I must die,
Therefore I'll keep my bargain and die dumb.

THE ENVOY
This knave is very resolute, my lord,
So are they all at first: I know their ways:
After a little will those stubborn lips
Unseal their secrets easily enough.
Lead him with us, keep up a stout heart, knave,
You'll need Ixion's fibres presently.

ORESTES
Nay, he will speak without it, I see well;
He has not done me enough wrong for that:
I am most milky-minded in this thing,
Why should I crack this poor dog's joints because
He has done some master's bidding, and brought steel
Against a throat so useless as my own?

THE ENVOY
Come now, my lord, we'll reason more on this;
The fear perchance without the thing will work,
So he believe this torture shall be done.

Dyseris—Simus
DYSERIS
Ah, Simus, thou hast tarried long, my love,
Where hast thou loitered in this perilous hour,
And left the rough words of this boy to me
With the old wolfish envoy at his back?
Oh, they have spoken much, but that's all done,
And ended now, you are here again my strength,
My light, confirm me with thy strong great hand;
Now can I set my breast into the storm
And laugh to hear it whistle round my hair;
And push among it merrily. But you know
This son assumes his power, edges us off,
Strides and gives orders like a man, because
He has baulked a half-fed robber—and indeed
There was but little danger, I believe,
Was there, my Simus? And the whole mad town
Has run up garlands for the joy of this,
And spread his feet with flowers; and he indeed
Tasting the first blood of his rule so sweet,
And feeling the sit of the diadem in his hair,
Straightway goes mad in arrogance, and bids me—
Loftily bids me go to the women's rooms,
My woman's place, since he, forsooth, would commune
On state affairs: and that old fox of Crannon,
Whetting his humour, told him he did well,
And looked a king already with the trick
Of ruling ready made; and so the two
Shouldered me off—and you, what peevish fortune
Kept you away? You chose your leisure ill:
I could have cursed you, love, that you came not—
Conceive this thing, curse you; oh, I was mad,
They made me so: fancy, to speak them smooth,
And look so very meek, I boiling here:
But we will right this soon, now, in an hour:
What is that murmur round the outer gate?
I am a fool to fright at the least noise:
Oh, I will pay these insults that have made me
Into weak stuff of woman like the rest:
What are these murmurs, Simus?

SIMUS
O my queen,
There once was spoken a weak little word
Between us, perhaps a mockery like the rest,
Perhaps a strong chain to bind us heart to heart;
Ay, and make lip give joy to lip forever,
And this next hour shall prove this either way.
And what you said was simply this, you loved me.
Now hear me to the ending and speak not:
God makes our life-threads hang on certain hours:
God makes one puny hour give shape and colour
To all things after while we taste sweet light.
God has done this to many, and with a flash
He takes this hour, this “now” we are breathing out,
And thrusts it on us saying, “Lo, my time,
My strong great time, choose ye; are not its wings
Swift as the moving of the light to go,
Strong as the hand of tempest to destroy?”
This is my hour, act or give death his way:
Think if you love me now; put all else by:
Those are my soldiers' voices at the gate.
I have given them wine and crammed their hands with gold
And torn it by the rivets from God's shrine.
Until to-morrow this thing no man knows,
Eudicus sees to that; and by to-morrow
We shall be all or nothing, crowned or dust:
These soldiers are mine wholly and not nice
In this their present humour to split straws
Over the thing I bid them do: now say
Slowly once over “I love thee.”

DYSERIS
“I love thee.”

SIMUS
Now hearken: it was I, this man you love,
Who hired the dagger at Orestes' throat.
Because I would have spared you knowledge of this,
And this boy scorned—

DYSERIS
I hate and love you, Simus,—

SIMUS
Scorned you because you love me, and waited only,
Being a coward as he is, and prone
To shrink on the edge of action, to serve me
As I tried him; and pack you to a corner
With woool enough to spin, not worth a halter.
Lo, I have failed to-day but fail not twice.
This boy must die or he kills me—now choose—
Save me, you rule as you have ruled all-queen,
Spare him and rule one distaff and much wool:
Say over again this word, “I love thee, Simus.”

DYSERIS
I love—nay, in God's name I love thee not;
I, even I, will stab thee in God's sight;
To bind me with thy bestial love, all-daring,
To set my cheek in such a mire of crime,
Because I kissed your hateful awful eyes—
Ah, my son, scorn me, scorn is my true meed.
Thou hast become another thing from when
I set thine inarticulate lips upon
My breast's pollution—Thou art grown to hate,
Ay, and I too have hated thee at times.
Yet when I heard thy murmur in the night,
Thy helpless wail, and shook me from my sleep;
And folded thee in warm and yearning arms,
And felt thy life go through me, as little lips
Took mine to make them strong; and on my soul
The sacredness of motherhood all night
Lay like a mighty dawn, that cannot break
The cloud that will not let its sweet light go—
Call in the guards—I will fear nothing now,
We will see at whose finger these drunk hounds
Learn murder soonest—I can promise gold
As well as thee, and thine is given and done—
Call in the guards, and thine own dogs shall tear thee,
Drunk with the gold thou stolest them to drink.
And I will bid God speed them, with no tear,
And afterwards go kneel before my son
And say “resume thy throne, I only sinned.”

SIMUS
What, are you gone girl-hearted like the rest,
My once great queen? Who in an old gone day
Kissed me and made about me her much love,
Because that certain faces near her throne
She would have silenced. Well, were these men found
After a week? Did I turn tender and say,
This man has been my brother in old wars,
Has brought me water wounded, lain at night
Beside the watch-fires with me? Nay, he went
With the others to his slumber, pleasing not
Certain sweet cruel lips that drew me on,
To dare all shameful things that they could dare,
And they dared much, for all their rosy meekness;
Yet tho' you brain me presently in this hour
By my own drunk guards' axes, and Zeus then
Bind me in anger to Ixion's wheel;
I say it was worth while, it was worth while—
To find you waiting for me afterwards,
After, say, any worst thing man can dare,
Waiting for me, alone in your bright robes
And with one great fierce kiss—

DYSERIS
Ah, spare me, Simus,
I have spoken ill, I love you, always love you,
Banish this boy, but slay him not; and kiss me
Once, twice, to know myself forgiven for all
I spoke and meant not, nay—

SIMUS
Why so it is.
We must have in the guards, blare out to the streets:
Nay, you and I will play this passion thro'
Without the staring eyes you so desire.
You are a woman after all: I thought you
A little better than the milky rest
Of soft fool-faces, breeders of fool's breed;
But like the rest you are gone flaring out
About your mother feelings. You must act
Even to me who know you to the core;
You are a woman after all: you want
To rule and be soft-hearted, eat the fruit
Of cruelty, wlth virgin credit still
Of being tender: I must find the crime,
And you sit flushing in your rose leaves there
And cry “alas” at death.

Dyseris
O Simus, kill me,
Kill me, and take me on your lips before;
I shall not sigh or groan much dying there;
Or, if you spurn me for my silly words,
Lo, I will kiss only your hand, and then
Give your sword way: you are indeed my king,
I love you and I love you and I love you;
Spare me Orestes only: O think not
I'd have him vex thee spared: he shall go forth
To Athens—anywhere. He shall not come
Within the sweep of thy great sceptre-shaft.
He shall go hence to-night, with one great oath
Not to return and vex thee, love, and I
Shall be thy servant, and no more thy queen,
Having said foolish words, but thou wilt keep me
A little still of thy great love, my king.

SIMUS
Well, let him live: you can command me all:
This is a perilous mercy, seeding death.
How shall we take our sweet of easy hours,
Or sit at royal banquet thunder-proof,
Knowing this boy is roaming the void earth
To launch his exile arrows at our brows?
How shall I say, “to-night we sleep at peace
In purple,” as the years increase on us,
Tho' we new-gird our gates with mountain iron,
While he, disprinced in Hellas, carries round
His story at each idle tyrant's board
Who hungers for our pastures? Well, my queen,
We'll save this serpent, and we'll play with death,
And you shall thank me for it, when his knife
Finds me at last, with one sweet earnest gaze
As I slip down to silence. Come, my queen.

CHORUS

Orestes—The Envoy—The Soldier
ORESTES
I will put by my patience with this hound:
He is ripe enough for death, and he goes straight
Dumb to the halter since this pleases him:
O envoy, summon one to bear him hence.
Yet thee, my would-be Charon to the shades,
I owe so little grudge, I'd be content
To spurn thee hence with a slave's lashes only,
If he who hired thy wretched hand to strike
Lay under my full vengeance. Is his name
Royal of those who at my board are fed?
Speak now, or never till death dumbs thy teeth:
I swear I will not ask thee any more.

THE SOLDIER
Thou wilt, I think, lose sweetness of thy life
Learning how near are those who wish thee death.

ORESTES
Thou wilt not make one hour of mine more sad
By telling me the hatred of my kin.
Love has been nothing in my way of youth,
We have not seen his face for many a day
In these accursed halls. O, I can augur,
The name you dare not speak. A certain true
And tender Simus, fearing this rough world
For one so unused to ruling as I am,
Would give me blessing of great quiet sleep
And sweet eternal foldings of the hands—
O he is good and great and very gracious
Yet I must baulk him for a little while,
And send him down to try, may be, before me,
How the dust tastes between the black dried lips.
Ah, you need not betray him, only move
Your head that I am right and question ends.

THE SOLDIER
You are right and wrong in one breath. It is Simus
And yet not Simus: a more royal hand
Would push thee hence. You'd better leave me silent.

ORESTES
Nay, by the gods, you shall speak now, altho'
I kept you on the edge of death a month
To twist and wrench your pale and foaming lips
Into the sound of it, the hated name,
That I must hear: lo, I, the mild weak boy,
Toss by the pale-hued mercy that I wore
As my life's very garment: I have wept
To hear the sobbing of a hunted beast;
And I went sadly all one morning, when
I found a field-lark dead upon her nest
While all the heaven broke o'er her into song
From many a poising wing. I shall not weep
Much from this day: I am grown cruel now:
Tho' I well know you are going to tell me much
Worthy the weeping. But not any tear
Shall be for me hereafter; I have braced
My soul to hear the worst thing you can say.

THE SOLDIER
Know, then, that I was sitting with my comrade
Over our mid-day meal: comes Simus in:
O, we had helped him once or twice before
In this same way; but when we heard he aimed
So high we faltered; tho' we feared the man,
And knew the peril of refusing him
Nearly as great as doing this: and he
Seeing we knew not where to turn, brake out
In laughter at our fear, and drew a ring
Out from his breast—a red-gold signet ring—
And said, “You fools, this warrant guards you sure:
This is no paltry business of my own.
The people king this boy but he is none.
Ye are not blind to see on whose fair brow
The real crown is seated, and she sends
This token to you faithful, being a queen,
And says, ‘Go rid me of this peevish thorn.’
And know, ye fools, to disobey is death:
Queens are not wont to ask at all in vain.”
Behold, my lord, your—that is, the queen's ring.

ORESTES
O kind old envoy, lead this soldier out.
Let him go free: for me I cannot speak
Just at this instant. He has done no wrong—
That is as some wrongs are. Leave me, old man;
I have had this black cloud over me all life:
It has burst now and stunned me: that is all:
Forbear me for a little, kind old man.

Orestes
ORESTES
And see the mother of the nest brings in
Food to her young under the cornice there,
And little wings are fluttering as she comes
And the beaks meet, and the young swallows cry
In joy and love, and cluster to her breast.
Doth her heart lie and would she dash them down
Helpless, half-fledged upon the flags below?
O world of death, O God's sweet lying show
Of lovely things unlovely underneath,
Brimming with poison and sick lees of Hell,
With a fair skin set over them. O Earth,
Why should thy dew of morning cheat the flower
To open in such joy its small fresh bud,
While thou the while preparest a night-blast
To snap it half expanded? Let it be—
Let it be clay—it asked no life of thee:
Thou only madest it so fair to reap
The greater joy in tainting it with death:
O thou sick time, and horrible strong wheels
Of moving destiny, a helpless life
I break myself against you, and cry out,
And the cry reaches the ambrosial gates,
Nor is there any answer: Mother, mother,—
The word is gone awry, it breaks my lips—
Thou hast sealed up the fountains of pure love
Forever: thou hast filled their waves with blood,
And set a snake to guard them. O, arise,
Take thou thy fill of scornful joy, make bright
The blade; in cradle yonder thy babe sleeps;
There shall be little trembling of the hand;
Strike deep, and smile not overmuch the while,
Lest thy smile weaken thy sure deadly hand,
And thy heart all mirth-shaken with the deed
Weaken thy aim like mercy; and this done
Float out in royal beauty with a song
Of love between thy lips. O mother, mother,
The sweet earth cannot be the lie of love
That you would make it. Take your full desire:
I will begone from these accursed halls,
And vex you with my weakness never more.
Taste thou the vintage of thy glory sweet.
Be thine an ample and a royal day,
Full of rewards, and dignified with pride
Of stately rule: I will go forth alone;
This Atè is a very watchful fiend,
And I will think I only feel her hand
And not thy guilt, my mother. And I know
That I shall not go forth wholly alone,
There is one sweet soul loves me of them all,
I do believe she loves me; I am fallen
Not much that she should change her fair faith now;
For when she pitied me I had no friend,
Therefore my fortune has not ebbed one wave,
Being merely friendless now. If she will set
Her patient feet to share an exile's road,
Why, I will scorn this peevish Atè's blows:
If this hope also cracks—why then, tired limbs
Must pack to bed, as night grows cold in the west—
I have loved much, and learnt that loving means
To comprehend all sadness. To be great,
Is only great capacity to taste
The illimitable evils of the earth;
Which, if a man be but a little wise,
The gods assign him envying his repose.
But they allow the fool to feed and sleep
Disdaining much to trouble his swine's rest—
Behold ye how my morning floats this way:
Now, thou good demon of my soul, behold
My life is in the scale of this maid's hands,
Weigh down with unseen aid the side of hope.

Archedice—Orestes
ARCHEDICE
O my good lord, I hail you safe with tears
Of my poor love: we have so much to tell you,
Medius and I, but that will keep: your chance
Is only worthy to be dwelt on now.
O, how my father's eyes brake out with joy,
When the great news fell on the city's calm
And furrowed up its silence. O, I knew
That round a good man's life an armed fate
Keeps ward: and Medius too had caught some fear;
And how I warned, and how you waved me off
With laughter: but these things are now a dream,
Over and ended, and the gods have trodden
The fruit of treason to a foam of blood.

ORESTES
And yet, my sweet, suppose a man should say,
“Orestes hath no triumph in this thing:
Nay, but confusion, taint, and shameful brand,
And proof of horrible hate, where love should dwell
Throned in eternal honour;” and suppose
The tale went on declaring, that, this seen,
Orestes felt a very shame to raise
His eyes to the fair light where he was born,
A burning shame to taste his country's air:
And that, before he turned his friendless feet
To some perpetual exile all alone,
He dreaming one maid lov'd him—nay the tale
Goes on in some such fashion,—came to her,
And taking, as I take thy hands, to show
The gesture, both her sweet palms on his own,
Spoke, “I have nothing in the world but love,
And that I know not yet if it be mine.
I am an exile and no prince at all:
I am a shamed life and no hero now.
Wilt thou, my sweet, walk forth on the cold hills
This night of exile friendless with a man
Friendless, and journey with him to the end?”
Suppose the tale true, dear, and answer it,
Knowing my life is wound with thy reply.

ARCHEDICE
Tell me, Orestes, tell me in mercy at once,
You speak but this to try me; O my lord,
You are in horrible earnest, for you weep,
And I am walking in a great black dream,
Wherein I see a half dazed girl, not me,
Surely another, standing and one weeps
Over her hands—Orestes! O break up
And leave me, awful dream: nay do not touch me;
I am gone mad: I know not what to say:
You were so far, so very far above me.
I dreamt not of your love, ah no, not more
Than if a god should stoop, as in old tales,
And love one in a dream: as dream it is
To hear you speak; in mercy, my good lord,
Touch not my worthless lips: I have so much
To say of bitter speech, and such small strength—
Oh, I will tell you all, but give me time;
Ay me, I loved you, worshipped, honoured you,
But not in lover's way: and since you shone
Above the low clouds of my love, my being
Clave unto Medius; partly I believe
Because he was your friend, and near the light
Of your high presence; and in time I came,
To love him wholly for himself, and you
Faded as fades the fair face of a dream
Except for adoration. And this day,
Only this day, I am pledged the promised wife
Of Medius, while you, my lord, go forth
This night in exile; oh I ask not why.
But know you go not friendless—he and I
Will be your slaves; O, we are not ungrateful,
You know not how he loves and honours you:
We may do something to make light your fate—

ORESTES
Nay, I am cursed, cursed, and thrice cursed again;
If one should put a finger on this curse
It would entangle thee and not save me.
There is no need for us of further speech.
Be happy with thy husband: he is worthy,
Ay, worthy more than I! be very happy:
I shall not see your children as I think,
Nor hear their voices at their games so far.
But tell them of Orestes at thy knee,
How he loved thee, and honoured Medius,
Being cursed himself, for some god, I suppose,
Hated his house. Lo, I will lay one kiss
Upon thy hand and looking thro' the lights
Of thy soft eyes I whisper, the old word
That runs before all death and change “farewell.”

Orestes
ORESTES
Now is my day well wasted: I have joy
To see the end: I am well tired of this.
Yet I have purpose in me ere I go.
I can reach in my hand, and stifle down
Some of the earth's confusions, and so sleep.
I do suppose all will be well some day,
And that each individual agony
Helps on the world's perfection: that this stale
And aching sorrow will in after years
Seem to the hearers of my tale no more
Than a girl's laugh: well, be it, I am weary:
Let me drink deep of night. There is no thing
Like shame down yonder—O my mother comes,—
Something I have to speak, to do may be,
And then this gracious garment of the light,
Rent once asunder, black and swift flows in
The silence.

Dyseris—Orestes
ORESTES
God who has cursed our house, has made no curse
Stronger to me than that I am your son.
Listen, for you shall listen: your desire
That I shall trouble you no more is known.
A mother's wish is holy, as they say,
And you best know the quality of this.
I will obey your hatred and begone.
Perchance I shall not speak unto you more;
Therefore, altho' you love me not, I find
Some bond that you should hear me this last time.
I will not speak to one in your high place
Of natural love: it is a peasant's virtue:
The race of princes has bred out this thing.
Indeed the order of the world is strange,
Not to spare you a royal lady and great
A milk-maid's pangs in labour: strangely wrong.
But, when you have given the child to a hired breast,
After a year or twain you shall not fail
Into infirm affection, or any yearnings
That vex the market-wife should her child cry
With a cut finger. Many royal ladies
Have weeded out this feeble love so far:
Yet few I think have scaled so high in praise
As you to conquer down all weak remorse;
Most would have faltered, women as they are,
To hire a brace of the very lees of men,
To put their knives into a troublesome son
In a lone pass.

DYSERIS
O son, I have wished thee much
Evil, but done this never.

ORESTES
Hear me end.
Few would have done this thing; and fewer still,
When such fair scheme miscarried, would dare go,
Go with a lie of welcome on their face,
And a false mother smile about their eyes
To greet their son saved, where they would laughed
Outright to feel his blood upon the hands
Of those they sent.

DYSERIS
Orestes, horrible error
Hath clouded thee in this, I swear, let Zeus
Smite me with his blue light-bolt on the mouth,
If I gave word to these to kill my son.

ORESTES
Zeus has sat patient, hearing many lies
Sworn in his name. Shall he sit patient always?
Lo you, this woman quibbles in Heaven's face
On such an awful question. Nay, you gave
No actual word, but Simus gave your ring.
Shall the clear eyes of Minos after death
See such a difference to absolve you here?

DYSERIS
O son, my punishment has taken me
With iron fangs: I have done ill in all.
But in this thing believe me innocent:
Yea, though shame slay me, I will tell thee all:
I will not hide my guilt from mine own son.
The stain of murder I can only clear,
By bringing my dishonour to the day.
Well, let it be: the guilt is less tho' great:
Account me wanton, not thy slayer, son.
I love this Simus with an evil love,
And I am tangled in its shameful toils,
And use has grown a despot to the will,
And slaves me to this Simus. O, he rules
And I am nothing, and he takes my seal
To be his warrant in all deeds of blood,
And I may not gainsay it: for the man
Is terrible, and love is terrible,
And he dares all, and hates thee: O my son,
Fly while thou mayest. I have begged thy life
Hardly of him this hour ago: he holds
The army as a rider holds a steed:
The palace avenues are set even now,
With guards to keep thee in. O he has made
Them drunk with wine, and mad with stolen gold;
Yet I will save thee, son, tho' I should die—
I have disguises in my women's rooms,
Remain and I will bring them; and being gone
Think on me somewhat gently, if thou mayest.

Orestes
ORESTES
Nearer the end: courage, poor heart, one deed
And I am sure of fate and lord of time:
How the sky thickens and the night runs in:
I have shed off all mean and earthly fear
And I am drowsy for the sweet strong rest.
Thou canst not follow me with thy disgrace,
My mother, nor shall any point and say,
“Behold her son who did such deed of shame;
The woman with the burning shameful eyes,
Who sits up there and sins on gloriously.
O, she has wept a little tear no doubt
Upon the sheet that covered her dead son;
May be she laid it back and bared the eyes,
And the lean tightened lips; but in an hour,
O, she rose up and went to her great sin,
Softly and silent went, with that white face
Fresh in the very picture of her thought.”
There shall no word be said: I doubt not here
The drowsing mumbling creature of the town
Shall prate upon it thus, and rub its hands
Upon the carrion flavour of the thing,
And beckon up its peers to see, and whisper.
And I am cold and stiff and deeply laid
And she sins warmly on—nay, he must die:
I cannot see but that this man must die.
O, I would not go down with bloody hands
If I could see a turning otherwhere;
I cannot weed the earth of all its knaves,
Had I the sword of Perseus, and this one
Might as well breathe and fester with the rest.
It is a knot of serpents, coiled and crammed,
Sucking the poison vapour of a marsh,
That fatting them, kills else all healthy life.
I do not dream the serpent breed shall fail
Tho' I crush one that in his hideous coils
Has wound my mother. But it seems to me,
Man's effort being bounded, he can only
Rid out his own peculiar evil, and sleep,
Leaving the issue of the monstrous rest
On the god's knees, then gladly fold his hands.

Simus—Orestes
SIMUS
My Lord, I am very glad to see you safe.
Is the Queen gone? I have been somewhat tardy
In laying my best wishes at your feet
For your escape. But soldier-business kept me.
They are carousing on it all to-night;
And I went round to see that all was quiet;
You understand, hot spirits, but good fellows
In the main, as rough and blunt as I myself,
Who can but say, “I am glad,” and not fringe on it
Fine words of compliment. Where is the Queen?

ORESTES
She will be here anon, my good lord, Simus.
Thanks for your gladness first, for your care next.
Be not impatient for the Queen, she comes
Upon this instant. I entreat you, see,
In this same scramble on the rocks, you know,
Which I make light of, being no escape,
A poor thief merely wanting my gold pieces,
Not worth much boasting over at the best,
I found a seal upon the dead man's finger—
A quaint one 'tis: like you the fashion on't?
Approach, you see not the device so far:
It is a fair small Eros, and he waves
His puny arrow with his bare weak arm
Straight from the shoulder out, a baby wrath,
With something of this motion.

SIMUS
I am slain.
I hate thee, hate—death chokes me—how I hate
And hated thee. I was a poor blind fool
To seek to kill thee by another, when—

ORESTES
So ends a mighty knave; he is dead enough.
True little blade you flew your errand well,
Lurking so gently silent in my sleeve.
You bit as cleanly as this Eros dart
Thro' his false flesh, a soft quick adder's sting,
A bitter Eros, due to lust and hate.
And so being ended out I will put by
All thought of such a worm. And I will cleanse
His blood's pollution from this pure blue steel,
That hath a nobler haven presently.

Dyseris—Orestes
DYSERIS
O love, love, love; I am too late, too late.
Here on your corse I wildly fling me down
With all my weight of shames; come treble shame
To me if it would bring you any life.
You are a bitter son to kill my love,
And I will curse you all my days of time:
And mumble still the curse when I grow old;
Silly and old, I'll yet have wit to hate;
And when they lay me in my chamber-tomb
I will have wound about my forehead there,
This curse in blood-red letters next my brain
Till we fall dust together. O love, love,
Move me so little of your lips again,
Save me the smallest corner of a smile;
You were so brave, you could not die so soon,
Beneath the boy's arm you have ruled so long:
Whose life you gave me even now: No, no,
You do but try me, and try him; again
Command us, he is sorry to have lifted
His arm; you are dazed only: lo, I loosen
Back on the chest your royal robe, you'll breathe
When you have room and air about the throat—
O ye great gods curse me this boy, he's dead,
Here went the knife, and water-like it goes
Horribly red and blinds my dim hot eyes.

CHORUS
Roll thou sea on the crags of Pelion,
Blow bitter wave and arise mighty gale.

DYSERIS
Ay me, the god vexes my brain with fire.

CHORUS
Breathe on the leaves all thy death full East wind,
Rock the old desolate branches and sway.

DYSERIS
My love is dead, is dead, mark me, I say
Dead, for behold it is a little word,
A little and a strong small cruel word,
Yet still as it is I'd tear the sun
From heaven to make it false this one small word,
And feel again his warm kiss on my mouth.

CHORUS
There is no singing in thy wake, lord Death,
Nor voice of boys or lisp of singing girls.
Cry, for we stumble in a grievous land.

DYSERIS
Fools, will ye thrust your griefs against mine own?

CHORUS
Shed out our wail like blood beside the queen's.

DYSERIS
Go to, ye vain ones, I am queen in this
Being unqueened in all, that no man may
Surpass my desolation: no man dare
Push up his puny grief against my face
And vaunt and plume himself how big it is;
Since all my nature is one grief, and I
Utterly, wholly, vanquished and absorbed,
Only exist as parcel of my pain,
Only am dull and dim and sick and blind,
Only reach out these cold blind hands upon him.

CHORUS
Die, for the dead scorn pain. Make thine their sleep.
Arise and go and heal thee, fair and great,
Better is death and far less terrible.
Descend, O queen, to silence.

DYSERIS
Listen, I loved this man, and had delight
To hear his voice. No queen in any land
Had fairer joy in loving. Beautiful
Light was upon his brow, and golden fire
Between his lips that kissed me. More and more
The shadow of his spirit made me strong,
And underneath the glory of his eyes,
I moved to music—This was yesterday,
Now—Zeus is dead and heaven rots under him.

CHORUS
Ay, for the earth is over-thrown with fear
And the blind gods sit whispering at the change.
They crowd together, feeling at the dark.
And the white Aphroditè shrieks, and sheds
The glory of her robes; and to the dust
Lays her ambrosial bosom. And the sun
Rolls out a fearful light and the stars crack,
For Zeus is dead and all his new gods quail.

ORESTES
Know, mother, I have been most merciful
Tho' I bear bloody semblance in this act.
The bond thou couldst not break for thy weak self,
Lo, I have broken and thy shame is dead.
O rise and leave this shameful thing to lie;
Thou dost forget thy queendom: O rise now
And leave thy tainted life in this man's grave,
And be hereafter pure and humbler thou.
O, I the son, thou cursed'st, pity thee,
And love thee, more than ever in thy pride
I loved thee, broken now and on the ground
Sobbing I find of mother more in thee.
Weep, cry, weep much: if thou canst weep so soon
After a little thou shalt dry thy tears.
Regret of false love is not long regret.
Let this strange horror make thee pure and clean,
And wean thy memory from this dead false hound
Who shamed thee and who perished.

Orestes—Archedice—The Envoy—Medius—Larissæans
ORESTES
She is gone
Weeping away. O, ye who from the gates
Stream in, strange frightened faces and wild eyes,
I, I, your king, Orestes did this deed;
Let no man stir: he dies the first of you
That moves an angry finger. Why, ye knaves,
Who was your king, this traitor slain or I?
Now ye go muttering back: must I be mild,
May not a king defend his throat, as ye
Save your lean bones and nurse your trivial lives?
Who hired the knives against me in the hills?
This Simus and I slew him; ask the envoy.

LARISSÆANS
Live, live, Orestes, live our king Orestes.

ORESTES
Now are ye children for my sceptre meet.
Ye shall know all hereafter, now begone.
Some two bear out this carrion.

Orestes—Archedice—Medius—The Envoy
ORESTES

THE ENVOY
He falls, and, lo, he falls
Too surely stricken by his own sure hand.
O house, O royal and accursed halls
Fertile in curses, this thy crowning woe
Is stricken home.

ARCHEDICE
O gentle, brave, and dear,
Linger a little with us, while my voice
Can reach you. Once you told me in old jest—
You had scratched your hand and I had wrapt my hair
About it, children both—that it could cure you:
And lo this noble life-blood staunches not:
I would bind up the gash with my poor hair,
And it reds all its yellow: and your eyes
Are smiling very faintly, as I think
At my most useless care: O dear Orestes,
Linger a little. Once you said you loved me.

ORESTES
O sweet, your voice has power to hold me back,
Even at the porch of the fierce light of dreams.
It is the only thread that binds me now.
I do not think my Medius envies me
The last dear fancy of a dying man:
Lay now your lips most gently upon mine
And say, that, after Medius, you loved me
Something.

ARCHEDICE
O dear Orestes, how I loved thee.

ORESTES
And this being spoken, there is end—

MEDIUS
Flow out,
True heart, and great gods raise thee to their throne.

THE ENVOY
O lords, that stand around and have such tears,
The earth is orphaned of her noblest son.
Lo, I bend down, and with a reverent hand,
I draw his mantle over the sacred face,
And the mouth brightened by the smile he died with.
And know, ye sad Larissa's citizens,
That the gods surely loved this prince of yours,
Taking him early to his beautiful rest.
They count not mortals happy by the rule
Of earthly pleasure, else were he not blest.
Nay, but they hold him greatest, who has known
To overcome most evil, keeping white
His soul the while: and in their keen strong hands
They hold all issues, and, to their clean eyes,
Evil is good, that greatens a man's soul.

CHORUS
O royal, sleep: clothe thee with fair great rest;
There is no shadow on thy face of pain.
Sleep and forget the toil and stain of time,
O youthful and unblest.
Who shall prevail environed as thou wert
With evil, young in days?
Who shall return with laughter if god's curse
Set arrow on her string?
Ah, gentle, no pollution of thine own
Hath steeped thy brows with shade.
We reason not with Fate, for she is great
And over love and tears;
Her lord allowed her masterdom of these,
But gave her mercy none.
Therefore art thou descended from the light
And wood and shower and wave,
And made a triumph of the realm of shade,
Where is no love nor song,
Nay not a little love nor any smile,
But Lethe, best of all,
Night and farewell and darkness and old dream—
Noblest, and thou farewell.