University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Euryclea, Myrrha.
My.
Yes, Euryclea, thou beholdest me
Completely tranquillized; and almost joyous,
At my resolved departure.

Eu.
Can this be? ...
Alone with Pereus wilt thou hence depart? ...
Nor of so many of thy faithful hand-maids
Wilt thou select even one? Not even me
Wilt thou distinguish from this wide neglect? ...
What will become of me, my dearest child,
If thou abandon me? alas, I feel
Ready to die at the mere thought of this ...

My.
Ah! hold thy peace ... One day I shall return ...

Eu.
Ah! may the Heavens grant this! Beloved daughter! ...
I did not think that thou wert capable
Of such a stern resolve: I always hoped
That thou at last would'st close my dying eyes ...

My.
I should have chosen thee, and thee alone,
If I, by any means, could have resolved
To take an inmate of this palace with me ...
But against this am I inflexible ...

Eu.
And at to-morrow's dawn thou go'st from hence? ...

My.
I from my parents have at length obtain'd
Permission to do this; the rising sun
Will see our vessel wafted from this shore.

Eu.
Auspicious be the day to thee! ... Could I
Know thou wert really happy! ... 'Tis in truth,
A cruel and a mortifying joy,
That thou dost manifest in leaving us ...
Yet, if it please thee, I will weep, though mute,
With thy aflicted mother ...

My.
Wherefore thus
My heart already too assailable
Dost thou assail? Why force me thus to weep? ...

Eu.
Oh! how can I suppress my bursting tears ...
This is the last time that I shall behold,
And shall embrace thee. Thou forsakest me
With many years bow'd down, and still more bow'd
With wretchedness. I shall be in my grave
At thy return, if that should ever be:
Some tears, I hope that, ... thou at least wilt give ...
To the remembrance ... of thy Euryclea ...

My.
For pity's sake ... oh! ... quit me; ... or at least
Be silent.—I command thee, hold thy peace.
It is my duty now to be to all
Inflexible; and chiefly to myself.—
This is a day sacred to nuptial joy.
Oh, if thou e'er hast loved me, I require
Of thee to-day the last hard proof of this;
Restrain thy tears, ... and mine.—I see already
My consort coming.—Let all grief be mute.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Pereus, Myrrha, Euryclea.
Pe.
Thy father, Myrrha, hath transported me
With unexpected joy: my destiny,
Which I expected trembling, he himself
Hath cheerfully announced to me as happy.
Since thou wilt have it so, by morrow's dawn,
At thy command, my sails shall be unfurl'd.
It pleases me at least, thy parents yield
Contentedly and placidly to this:
For me no other pleasure there can be
Save that of satisfying thy desires.

My.
Yes, much-loved consort; for by this fond name
Already I accost thee; if a wish
My bosom ever fervently inspired,
Now do I wish intensely, nay I will,
To-morrow, at the break of day, to part
From hence with thee. To find myself at once
With thee alone; no longer to behold
One of the many objects in my sight
So long the witnesses, and perhaps the cause,
Of my distress; to sail in unknown seas;
To land in countries hitherto unseen;
To breathe a fresh invigorating air;
And evermore to witness at my side,
Beaming with exultation, and with love,
A spouse like thee; all this, I am convinced,
Will renovate me soon a second time
To be what once I was. Less irksome, then,
I trust that I shall be to thee. Meanwhile
My state will stand in need of some indulgence;
But, be assured that this will not last long.
My grief, if never to my mind recall'd,
Will be eradicated soon. Do thou,
Of my abandon'd and paternal realm,
Of my disconsolate and childless parents,
In short, of nothing, that was once my own,
Once precious to my heart, ever remind me,
Nor even breathe to me their thrilling names.
This, this will be the only remedy
That will for ever staunch the bitter fount
Of my perpetual and horrible tears.

Pe.
Strange and unparallel'd is thy design,
Oh Myrrha: ah may heaven in mercy grant
That thou may'st not, when 'tis too late, repent it!
Yet though my heart the flattering thought admits not
Of being dear to thee, I am resolved
Blindly t'accomplish every wish of thine.
Provided that my destiny decree
That I should ne'er be worthy of thy love,
My life, which only for thy sake I keep,
(That life which I had sacrificed already
With my own hand, if I had been to-day
Forced to relinquish thee) this life of mine,
Since for this sacred purpose thou hast deign'd
To make a choice of me, I consecrate
For ever to thy grief.—To weep with thee,
If thou desire it; with festivity,
And mirthful sports, to make the time pass by
With lighter wings, and cheat thee of thy cares;
With strenuous watchfulness, t'anticipate
All thy desires; to shew myself at all times,
Whichever most thou wishest me to be,
Consort, protector, brother, friend, or servant;
Behold, to what I pledge myself: in this,
And this alone, my glory and my life
Will all be centred. Yet, by this unmoved,
If thou canst never love me, still, methinks,
I cannot be the object of thy hate.

My.
What say'st thou? Learn, ah learn better to know,
Better to appreciate thyself and Myrrha!
To thy so various endowments, thou
Addest such boundless love, that thou deservest
A far, far different object to myself.
Love in my bosom will enshrine his fires,
When he has clear'd it of its blighting tears.
And oh, to-day, be pleased to accept it, thou,
An ample and indubitable proof
Of this, that I select thyself alone
As with medicinable power endow'd
To heal my bosom's festering malady;
That I esteem thee, that with lofty voice
I hail thee as my only true deliverer.

Pe.
Thou dost inflame me with excessive joy:
Never till now did accents sweet as these
Flow from thy beauteous lips: within my heart
Engraved in characters of fire they live.—
Behold the priests, and the hymeneal train,
And our dear parents, hitherward advance.
Ah! may this moment be to thee propitious,
As it hath been the brightest of my life.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Priests, Chorus of Children, Virgins, and old Men, Cinyras, Cecris, People, Myrrha, Pereus, Euryclea.
Cin.
Beloved children, I infer, at least,
A joyful augury from seeing you
Precede us thus to the hymeneal rite.
On thy face Pereus transport is express'd;
And I behold my daughter's countenance
Serene and resolute. The immortal gods
With looks benign assuredly regard us,
With copious incense be the altars heap'd;
While the full choir with pealing harmony
Propitiates the gods, and to the skies
Breathed acceptably forth from hearts devout
Our loud, and long resounding hymns ascend.

CHORUS.
Hymen, benignant god, brother of Love,
Of frail humanity the soothing friend,
On us propitiously do thou descend;—
And bid henceforth these happy votaries prove
A flame so pure from thy inspiring breath,
That nothing may extinguish it but death.

CHILDREN.
Come to us, Hymen, with triumphant joy,
Borne on thy brother's wings descend below;

VIRGINS.
With his own craft deceive the treacherous boy
Both of his darts, his quiver, and his bow.

OLD MEN.
But do thou come exempt from all his arts,
His soft caprices, and insidious sighs:

CHORUS.
And deign, oh Hymen, to unite two hearts,
In mutual love unmatch'd, with thy firm ties.

Eu.
Daughter, what ails thee? How thou tremblest? ... Ah ...

My.
Peace ... peace ...

Eu.
But yet ...

My.
No, no; ... I do not tremble.

CHORUS.
Mother sublime of Hymen, and of Love,
A goddess e'en among the gods art thou;
Whose high supremacy in heaven above,
Or in the earth, none dare to disavow;
From old Olympus' heights, oh Venus, deign
Upon this pair propitiously to smile;
If e'er the rites of this thy sacred isle
Thy kind protection haply might obtain.

CHILDREN.
Those peerless charms from thee derive their birth,
Bestow'd on Myrrha with such lavish wealth;

VIRGINS.
Restoring her once more to joy and health,
Be pleased to leave thy image on the earth;

OLD MEN.
Lastly, make her the mother of a race
So noble, that their father may confess,
Grandsires, and subjects, that past wretchedness
Is all forgotten in their matchless grace.

CHORUS.
Benignant goddess, gloriously unfold,
From the pure empyrean's azure height,—
Drawn by thy swans with plumes of downy white,
Throned in thy chariot of translucent gold,—
Thy form majestical:—and by thy side
Conduct thy son:—thy veil of roseate bloom—
Cast o'er thy votaries,—pregnant with perfume;—
And let one spirit o'er two forms preside.—

Ce.
Yes, daughter, yes, with meek subserviency
Thou always soughtest to secure the favour
Of our all-powerful goddess ... But, alas! ...
Thy countenance changes? ... Thou art faint, and trembling? ...
And scarce thy faltering knees ...

My.
For pity's sake,
Do not, oh mother, with thy accents bring
My constancy to too severe a test.
I cannot answer for my countenance; ...
But this I know, the purpose of my heart
Is steady and immutable.

Eu.
For her
I feel as if my very life would fail.

Pe.
Ah! more and more her countenance is troubled? ...
Whence is this tremor which assaults my frame?—

CHORUS.
Pure faith, and concord lasting and benign,
Have in the bosom of this lofty pair
Irrevocably placed their sacred shrine;
And fell Alecto would in vain repair
To trouble with her torch's lurid glare
The lovely bride's firm and unswerving heart;
And deadly Discord, frantic with despair,
Himself consumes, and curses his weak art,
And from the noble pair all powers malign depart.

My.
What is it that ye say? My heart already
By all the baneful furies is assaulted.
See them; the rabid sisters round me glare
With sable torches, and with snaky scourge;
Behold such torches as this Hymen merits ...

Cin.
Oh heaven! what do I hear?

Ce.
My child, thou ravest ...

Pe.
Oh fatal rites! ye ne'er shall be perform'd ...

My.
But what? The hymns have ceased? ... Who to his breast
Thus clasps me? Where am I? What have I said?
Am I a spouse already? ...

Pe.
Thou art not,
Myrrha, espoused; nor shalt thou ever be
The spouse of Pereus, to thee I swear.
Not less intense, but different to thine,
The execrable furies tear my heart.
Thou hast made me a derision to the world,
And to myself, e'en more than I'm to thee,
An object of abhorrence: I for this
Will not make thee unhappy. Thou hast now,
Though 'gainst thy will, fully betray'd thyself:
And thou hast finally beyond all doubt
Divulged the invincible and long aversion
Which thou hast cherish'd towards me. We are happy,
That thou hast thus betray'd thyself in time.
Now from the self-imposed and hated yoke
Art thou released for ever. Safe art thou,
And from all ties exempt. Henceforth will I
Remove for ever from thy troubled sight
My odious presence ... Satisfied, and happy,
Thou by my means shalt be ... and thou ere long
Shalt learn the last resource that did remain
For one, who, hoping to obtain thee, lost thee.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Cinyras, Myrrha, Cecris, Euryclea, Priests, Chorus, People.
Cin.
The rite is now profaned; hence, hence this pomp,
This ineffectual pomp: let the hymns cease.
Meanwhile, oh priests, withdraw elsewhere.—I will,
(A wretched father) weep at least unseen.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Cinyras, Myrrha, Cecris, Euryclea.
Eu.
Ah! far more dead than living Myrrha stands:
Behold, I scarcely can support her form.
Oh daughter! ...

Cin.
Ladies, leave her to herself
A prey, and to her own flagitious furies.
She, with her unexampled waywardness,
Spite of myself, at last hath render'd me
Inflexible and cruel: for her state
No more I feel compassion. She herself,
Almost against the wishes of her parents,
Would to the altar come: and this alone
To o'erwhelm us with her own disgrace and ours? ...
Thou too compassionate, deluded mother,
Leave her: if hitherto we were not stern,
The day at length is come to be so.

My.
Yes.
'Tis as it should be: Cinyras, be thou
With me inexorable: for nought else
I wish; nought else I will. He, he alone
Can terminate all the disquietudes
Of an unhappy and unworthy daughter.—
That which is now dependent at thy side ...
That vengeful sword ... plunge it within my breast ...
Thou gav'st to me this wretched hated life,
Take thou it from me: lo! the last, last gift
For which I supplicate thee ... Ah, reflect,
That if thyself, and with thy own right hand,
Do not destroy me, thou reservest me ...
... And for nought else ... to perish by my own.

Cin.
O daughter! ...

Ce.
Oh unutterable anguish! ...
Ah! thou'rt a father; thou a father art; ...
Wherefore exasperate her? ... Is she not
Sufficiently afflicted? ... Thou seest clearly
That she is scarce the mistress of herself;
Her reason sinks beneath her mighty anguish ...

Eu.
Oh Myrrha ... daughter ... dost thou hear me not?
My tears ... prevent ... my utterance ...

Cin.
Oh state! ...
By such a terrible sight I am o'ercome ...
Ah yes, I am e'en yet too much a father:
And of all fathers most unfortunate ...
Already by compassion more than rage
Am I possess'd. I will betake myself
Elsewhere to weep. Watch ye meanwhile o'er her.—
When she has regain'd her reason, speedily,
She afterwards must hear her father speak.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Cecris, Myrrha, Euryclea.
Eu.
Ah see, once more her senses she resumes ...

Ce.
Leave me alone with her, good Euryclea;
I would speak to her.

SCENE THE SEVENTH.

Cecris, Myrrha.
My.
Is my father gone? ...
He then, he will not kill me? Ah, do thou
In pity, mother, give to me a sword;
Ah yes, if there indeed remains in thee
The shadow of regard for me, a sword,
Give me thyself without delay. I am
In full possession of my faculties;
And well I know the mighty consequence
Of this my fervent prayer: ah trust for once
My judgment; trust it while there yet is time:
Thou wilt repent hereafter, but in vain,
If thou to-day grantest me not a sword.

Ce.
Beloved child, ... oh heaven! ... assuredly
From grief thou ravest.—From thy mother thou
Would'st never ask a sword ...—Now, let us speak
No more of nuptial rites: a strength of mind
Not to be parallel'd, hath led thee on
To accomplish what thou promisedst; but, ah!
Stronger than thou was nature: fervently
For this I thank the gods. Thou e'er shalt be
Clasp'd in the arms of thy indulgent mother:
And if to eternal tears thou'rt self-condemn'd,
I will weep also evermore with thee,
Nor ever, even for an instant, leave thee:
We will be one in all things; e'en thy grief,
Since it will not abandon thee, will I
Appropriate to myself. And thou shalt find
In me a sister, rather than a mother ...
But what, oh heaven, is this? ... Beloved child, ...
Art thou incensed 'gainst me? ... repellest me? ...
Refusest to embrace me? ... and dost dart
Indignant and exasperated looks ...
Alas! ... oh daughter, ... e'en towards thy mother? ...

My.
Ah! too much it increases my despair,
Even the seeing thee: thou, more and more,
Rendest my heart when thou embracest me ...
Alas! ... what do I say? ... Beloved mother! ...
A vile, flagitious, and unworthy daughter
Am I, who love deserve not. Leave thou me
To my dire destiny; or if thou feel
For me true pity, I repeat it to thee,
Kill me.—

Ce.
Ah, rather I should kill myself,
If I were doom'd to lose thee: cruel daughter!
Canst thou speak to me, and repeat to me
So horrible a wish?—Rather, will I
From this hour forth perpetually watch
Over thy life.

My.
Thou, thou o'er my life watch?
Must I, at every instant, I, behold thee?
Thou evermore before my eyes? Ah first,
I will that these same eyes of mine be closed
In everlasting darkness: I myself
With these my very hands would pluck them first
From my own forehead ...

Ce.
What say'st thou? ... oh heaven! ...
Thou mak'st me shudder. Then thou hatest me? ...

My.
Thou first, thou sole, fatal, eternal cause
Of all my wretchedness ...

Ce.
What words are these? ...
Oh daughter! ... I the cause? ... But see thy tears
Gush forth in torrents ...

My.
Pardon, pardon me! ...
It is not I that speak; an unknown power
Rules my distemper'd organs ... Dearest mother!
Too much thou lovest me; and I ...

Ce.
Dost thou
Deem me the cause?

My.
Yes, thou, alas! hast been
In giving life to such an impious wretch
The cause of all my woes; and art so still,
If thou refusest now to take it from me;
Now that I importune thee for this deed
So fervently. There yet is time for this;
Yet I am innocent ... almost ...—But oh!
Against such agonies ... my languid frame ...
No more bears up ...—My strength, ... my senses fail ...

Ce.
To thy apartments suffer me to lead thee.
Thou need'st some cordial to restore thy strength.
This transient frenzy, trust me, hath arisen
From too long fasting. Ah, come thou; in me
Fully confide; I, I alone will serve thee.