Ajax Minerva MINERVA, ULYSSES. Son of Laertes, oft have I observed Thy watchful promptness 'gainst the foe to seize Each fit occasion; and I see thee now Ranging long time around the naval tent Marking the fresh impression of his steps, That thou may'st know if in the tent he rests. Well hast thou traced him, like the Spartan hound Of scent sagacious: in the tent he rests, Sweat from his temples streaming, and his hands With slaughter stain'd; to cast thy searching eye Within these gates is needless; but declare The cause productive of this anxious toil, That by my knowledge thou may'st be inform'd. Ulysses Ye accents of Minerva, of the gods Minerva Most friendly to me! Well, O queen, I know Thy voice, though thou not seen; it strikes my sense Clear as the Tuscan trumpet's brass-tuned notes. Just is thy knowledge that my circling step Traces a foe, Ajax, whose arm sustains The broad circumference of the massy shield; Him, and none other, long time have I traced. This night against us he hath done a deed Which reason starts at, if the deed be his, For we know nothing certain, but are lost In doubt: mine therefore is it to sustain This voluntary toil; for all our herds, Prize of our arms, the herdsmen too we find Fresh slaughter'd by some wasting hand; to him The general voice this odious deed imputes: { And one, who, as he walk'd the nightly round, Descried him bounding o'er the fields alone, The blood fresh dropping from his sword, to me Disclosed it: instant on his steps I press Tracing their marks, now certain, now, perplex'd. But opportune thy coming; for thy hand Hath been in all my actions pasty irall Of future enterprise shall be my guide. מה I know it well; and friendly to thy search Attended thee a guardian on thy way. Ulysses Say then, propitious goddess, have my toils Just cause? Minerva They have: those deeds were his, Ulysses What urged His frentic hand? Minerva Rage, for the glorious arms Which once Achilles bore. Ulysses Why on our herds Fell then his wild assault? Minerva He deem'd his hand Stain'd with your blood. Ulysses Was the assault design'd Against the Grecians? Minerva He had work'd his will, Had not my care been watchful... Ulysses With what bold And daring thought? Minerva With guile by night alone He rush'd upon you, Ulysses Far as he design'd Advanced he? Minerva To the two imperial tents. Ulysses What then restrain'd his hand athirst for blood? Minerva I check'd him from the savage joy his heart Conceived, presenting to his eyes wild forms Of sick imagination; on the herds I turn'd him, and the undivided spoils By herdsmen watch'd; on these he rush'd, and spread Wide slaughter 'midst the horned droves, around Whirling his sword; th' Atridæ now he ween'd Fell by his hand, and now some other Chief, Each after each; his mind with frenzy seized, I urged him on, and drove him into toils Thus wretchedly entangled. When his hand From this wild slaughter ceased, the herds not slain And all the flocks he seized, in fetters bound, And drove them to his tent, deeming them men, Not horned herds: there now with many a lash He makes his captives feel his frentic rage... But I will show thee his distemperature, To all the Grecians that thou may'st report What thou hast seen. Call up thy firmness, stay, Of ill not apprehensive; I will turn His eyes aside to cast no glance on thee. Ho there! To thee, who on thy captives' hands Art fixing chains, to thee I call; come forth; Ajax come forth before the tent. Ulysses What dost thou, goddess? What is thy intent?. Minerva Call him not forth. Stand silent; do not fear. Ulysses Nay by the gods! Suffice it he remains bf. Within the tent. Minerva Why should he not come forth?ĩa Was not the man before...... Ulysses To me a foe; And such he is e'en now. Is there a joy More grateful to the soul, than to deride Our enemies ? Enough for me, O queen, That he remains within. Minerva Dost thou then fear To see a madman? Ulysses Were his senses sound, I should not fear him. Minerva Thee, though present, now He shall not see. Ulysses How not, since with his eyes He sees as usual? Minerva I will cloud his sight. Ulysses All may be done which the immortal gods Minerva Design.. Stand silent; where thou art, remain. Ulysses I shall, though hence more willing to retire. To thy associate why no more respect? How opportune thy aid! With golden spoils Thee for this glorious capture will I crown. Minerva MINERVA, ULYSSES, AЈАХ. Thy promise I approve. But tell me this, Well hast thou tinged thy sword with Argive blood? Ajax I have much cause to glory; nor the deed Minerva Will I deny. And hast thou raised the spear Against th' Atridæ? Dishonour Ajax. Never shall they more They are dead then; so Thy words import, if I conceive them right. Ajax Both dead: now let them take my arms away. Minerva Well: but that other from Laertes sprung. Ajax What fate is his? Hath he escaped thy hand? Ajax Where that accurst inveigler dost thou ask? I of thy rival, of Ulysses speak. Ajax With joy I hold him, goddess, in my tent Minerva In chains; I would not that he yet should die. What wou'dst thou do? What more wou'dst thou obtain? Ajax Bound to the pillar which supports my tent...... Minerva What further vengeance would thy rage assign? Ajax His back the scourge shall gore; then let him die. Minerva Nay, thus severely torture not the wretch. Ajax In all besides I yield me to thy will; This vengeance, and none other, he shall feel. Minerva Since to do this is pleasing to thee, use Thy hand, and nothing of thy purpose spare. Ajax I go to do it; but entreat this grace, Minerva Always, as now, my firm associate stand. Thou seest, Ulysses, what the pow'r of gods. Who was of thought more prudent than this man? Who, when occasion call'd, in act more brave? Ulysses MINERVA, ULYSSES. I know not any; and I pity him, Minerva Since now unhappy, though to me a foe, For in the chain of ruin he is bound. And this respects his state not more than mine. For all that live, I see, are nothing more Than phantoms form'd of air, and shadows light. Hast thou a sense of this? Against the gods Utter no vaunt profane; nor swell with pride, More puissant if thy hand, or thy wealth rise In ampler stores. All human things a day In darkness sinks, a day to light restores. The gods too love the sober, modest mind, The arrogant and impious they abhor. Chorus O son of Telamon, whose ample sway Deep-rooted in the sea, that rolls around, The strong based shores of Salamis obey, When with success and glory thou art crown'd My heart beats high with joy: but when the hand Of angry Jove afflicts thee, or thy fame Greece taints with envious and malignant blame, I fear, I tremble like the fluttering dove... Such terrors now around us blackening stand: For slander says that o'er the pastured plain By thee this night the flocks, the herds were slain, Spoils of the ravaged vales, (O deed abhorr'd!) Slain by thy flaming sword. Such tales Ulysses with insidious art Against thee forms, and whispers in each ear; His specious fictions all believe who hear, Feeling more joy than cheers th' inventor's heart, And with malicious insults mocks thy woes. Who wings his shafts against the great and high, Unerring to the mark beholds them fly: 'Gainst me their aim they lose. Envy crawls on, the potent keen to wound; Yet, when the hour brings danger forth, the low Without them are a tottering bulwark found; These in the great their strong protectors know, The great by these protected firmly stand. But to th' insensate wisdom speaks in vain : Such this tumultuous train, And to repel their insults weak our hand, Weak without thee: for now, escaped thy sight, Like flocks of birds they scream, and vex the ear: Wou'dst thou, O king, appear, With awe they view the lordly vulture's flight, And all their clamorous cries are hush'd through fear. Thee hath the Virgin Huntress sprung from Jove, Whose altars o'er the Scythian Taurus flame, (O wild report, thou parent of our shame !) Urged 'mongst the herds with slaughtering rage to rove, To her no honours for some conquest paid? Didst thou the glorious spoils of war detain? Were her loved hinds beneath thy arrows slain, As fearless o'er some hallow'd vale they stray'd? Did the stern god, that in th' ensanguin'd field Lifts high his blazing shield, In vengeance send, defrauded of his right, The frenzy of the night? For never, did thy sense its seat maintain, O son of Telamon, with rage possest Wou'dst thou spread carnage o'er the pastured plain. Heav'n-sent this wild disease hath fired thy breast. O Phœbus, and thou ruler of the sky, Avert this ill report! To blast thy fame If the great kings, and chiefs of mighty name, In secret basely forge this calumny, Or he of the accurst Sisyphian race, Yield not to the disgrace; Nor, thine eye fix'd within thy naval tent, The vile report augment. Rise, king of Salamis, assert thy fame: Why to thy seat thus fixed? Thy long delay Adds to this heav'n-sent mischief fiercer flame. For uncontroll'd the insults of thy foes, Like fires exposed to winds, now force their way. No bounds the spreading slander knows; From tongue to tongue the taunts, the mockings roll; And anguish rends my soul. Tecmessa TECMESSA, CHORUS. Ye faithful train, that o'er the billows steer The bark of Ajax, from Erectheus sprung A generous race, with sorrow pierced we groan, Who in a foreign land with zeal attend The house of Telamon: for now the great, The strong, the daring Ajax sinks beneath The turbid storm of a distemper'd mind. Chorus What weight of sorrow hath this night produced Changing the fortune of the former day, Daughter of Phrygian Teuthras, tell thy friends; For since his spear achieved thee as his prize, The ardent Ajax gave thee all his love; Thou then, as one not ill inform'd, canst speak. Tecmessa How can I speak unutterable ills? This will fall on thee with a weight like death; Such thou wilt feel it; for with frenzy seized This night th' illustrious Chief hath done a deed Destructive to his fame: within the tent Thou may'st behold the victims of his sword Weltering in gore, and slaughter'd by his hand. Chorus What hast thou said of one, that in the works Of war flamed foremost! We can neither bear The infamy, nor shun it. By the Chiefs Already it is whisper'd, and anon Wide through the Grecian camp it will be spread. Ah me! I fear th' advancing ills; the man By the same hand, by frenzy arm'd, will die, Amidst the darkness of the night which whirl'd His sword, and with the herdsmen slew the herds. Tecmessa Ah, what a grief! Thence, thence he came, and led The herds as captives; some within the tent He slew, and on the ground some mangled lie. Two rams of snow-white fleece he seized; from one He rent away the tongue, smote off the head, And threw it from him; to a pillar high The other bound, then snatch'd his chariot-reins, And scourges it with many a sounding stroke, Reviling it with loud and shameful taunts, The dictates of some Fury, not of man. Chorus Time is it then we veil our heads, and steal With secret foot away; or mount our seats, 1 Ply the strong oar, and to the ocean give Our lightly-bounding bark. Such threats severe The sons of Atreus, who command our host, Denounce against us: crush'd with stones, I fear, We too shall feel their vengeance, with our lord. Now struggling in the bonds of ruthless fate. Tecmessa Not struggling now, for, as the boisterous South That rose without the lightening's flashing fires, His rage subsides. But to his sense return'd A new affliction grieves him; for to view Ills all our own, where no associate shares The deed, with keenest anguish racks the heart. Chorus But we are happy if his sense returns; The ill now ceased, less anxious are our fears. Tecmessa Hadst thou thy choice, wou'dst thou with grief afflict Thy friends, that unshared pleasure might be thine; Or bear in mutual grief a mutual part? Chorus The double, lady, is the greater ill. Tecmessa We, the disease not sharing, feel its pains. Chorus Why this? I know not what thy words import. Tecmessa When his disease raged highest, in the ills, Which round encompass'd him, he felt a joy, To us, whose sense was perfect, causing grief. Now he is calm, and from his wild disease Breathes free, with anguish all his soul is rack'd, Nor less is our affliction than before. From single is not this a double ill? Chorus To thee my heart assents; and much I fear Some fatal stroke impending from a god: Else why, his mind now calm, no more of joy Feels he, than 'midst the storm of his disease? Tecmessa Be thou assured that things have reach'd this height. Chorus But tell us how this sudden ill began; For we too melt in sympathy of woe. Tecmessa Thou shalt know all, as one that shares the grief. The night was far advanced, the evening lamps No longer blazed, when grasping in his hand His dreadful sword, he bent his eager steps Towards the passes from all haunt now clear; I gently chide him, What thy purpose now?.. Of herald calls thee, nor the trumpet's sound, Why thus rush forth? Now all the army sleeps. Few were his words, the tune of every tongue,.. "To women silence gives their proper grace." I stood rebuked, he issued forth alone. What then befel I know not: he return'd Driving in bonds the bulls, the herdsmen's dogs, And lowing herds; some by his sword was slain, And hewn in pieces; some like captives bound, Raging against the flocks, he scourged as men. At length he issued from the tent, and held Long converse with some shadow; of the sons Of Atreus much, and of Ulysses much He spoke, and laugh'd aloud, how their base deeds He in this sally amply had revenged. Slow he regain'd; but when he saw the ground With carnage cover'd thus, he smote his head, And raised a mournful cry; then prostrate lay Stretch'd 'midst the havoc of the slaughter'd flocks, Rending with violence his hair. Long time He lay, nor utter'd word; with rigorous threats Then bade me tell him every circumstance Of what had pass'd, and whence the carnage ask'd That lay around him: struck with fear, my friends, Distinct I told him all that had been done, Far as I knew it; strait with mournful cries Loud he lamented; such from him before I never heard; for wailings he disdain'd As marks of base and abject minds, nor gave His griefs a voice, but like a murmuring bull Groan'd inwardly: and now in this ill plight, Refusing to be cheer'd with food or wine, Grovelling amidst the slaughter'd herds he sits In gloomy silence, forming in his mind Some ill intent; this his imperfect words And griefs denote. But, O my friends, (this cause Impell'd me forth to seek you) go to him, Give him your aid, if aught avails your pow'r; Oft on such minds the words of friends prevail. Chorus Entering the tent again his sense at length, Daughter of Teuthras, dreadful to our ears Thy words, that Ajax groans beneath such ills. Ajax Ah me, unhappy me! Tecmessa To greater height it soon will rise, I fear, Did you not hear his loud and mournful groans ? Ajax Ah me, unhappy me! Chorus He seems disorder'd now; or keen remorse For what is past with anguish stings his soul. Ajax My son, my son! Tecmessa Ah me! Eurysaces, for thee he calls. What now impels him? Where art thou, my child? Ajax [within. [within. [within. Teucer! Where art thou, Teucer? In the prey [within.. For ever active? whilst I perish here. Chorus His sense seems perfect: open wide the doors: Regard for us perchance may calm his mind. Tecmessa Behold I open them: thou may'st now view His deeds, and all the misery of his state. Ajax AJAX, ТЕСMESSA, CHORUS. My friends, who with me mount the stately bark, Alone, of all my friends, to faith's firm law Alone adhering, from the raging storm Behold what bloody waves around me swell. Chorus Thywords too strongly bore the stamp of truth: [to Tecmessa How high his frenzy rose these deeds declare. Ajax Who grasp the strong oar, and impel the bark Light bounding o'er the billows, you alone With kind regard are present to my aid; Draw all your swords, and end this hated life. Chorus Do not to ills ill medicines apply, Nor a severer anguish add to grief. Ajax Thou seest the bold, the brave, the mighty Chief, Intrepid in the shock of hostile arms, Now dreadful 'midst the herds secure of harm, How to derision and reproach exposed! Tecmessa Not thus, my lord, loved Ajax, speak not thus. Ajax Wilt thou not hence, wilt thou not hence retire? Chorus O wretch, wretch, wretch! Now, by the gods, be calm: Let reason reassume its sober rule. Ajax Unhappy me, who let those fiends accursed Escape my hands, and falling with wild rage On the fair herds distain'd my sword with blood! Chorus Why for deeds past shou'dst thou afflict thy mind? Immutably they must be what they are. Ajax Thou ever lurking spy, thou ready tool Always of every ill, of all the host The basest, foulest, most insidious wretch, Son of Laertes, how wilt thou rejoice, And laugh, and revel at my miseries ! Chorus Each, as the god assigns, or laughs or weeps. Ajax Oh might I see him, though thus crush'd with ills! Ah miserable me! Chorus Proud menaces ill suit thy hapless state. Ajax First let me crush this wily juggling foe, And the two Chiefs that with imperial pow'r Command the Grecian host, then let me die! Tecmessa If such thy wish, wish too that I may die : For what is life to me, if thou art dead? Ajax O darkness, now my light! Ye dreary shades Of Erebus, to me sole brightness now, Receive, receive your habitant; receive A wretch no longer worthy to behold The race of gods, or mortal men! Me now They nought avail: for me the potent queen, Daughter of Jove, with vengeful hand afflicts E'en to destruction. Whither can I fly? Or where remain? My former fame, my friends, Is lost; and these last deeds have sunk me down With infamy amidst these foolish spoils; And all the host takes arms against my life. Tecmessa What grief is mine that so renown'd a Chief Should speak a language till this hour unheard! Ajax Ye streams that roll into the sea, ye caves Deep in the rocks that wind along the shore, Thou grove on Ida's brow, long time, long time Have you round Troy detain'd me; but no more Shall you detain me breathing vital air : This let each man, that hath his reason, know. And thou, Scamander, flowing near these tents, Benignant to the Grecians, shalt no more Behold this man (thus proudly I will speak) Such as 'mongst all the host, that o'er her plains March'd from the realms of Greece, Troy hath not seen: Now, all his glory sunk, thus low he lies. Chorus I have not pow'r, 'midst these afflicting ills, Or to repress, or to allow thy words. Ajax Ah me! what heart could e'er conceive the thought That Misery and Ajax should be found So near allied! My very name conveys The sound of woe, connected with such ills. My father, 'midst the martial host of Greece First in renown, and for his noble deeds Graced with the prize of honour, to his house Bore from this land of Ida all that arms Could give of glorious boast. But I his son, To the same fields of Troy with no less strength Advancing, deeds as noble by my hands Achieved, dishonour'd by the Argives lie, And perish thus. Yet well am I assured If now Achilles lived t' adjudge his arms.s The prize of valour and exalted worth, No man would take them from me: but the sons Of Atreus, slighting my illustrious deeds, Assign them to a wretch expert in wiles. Had not my cheated eye, had not my sense Perverted led me from my purpose wide, Such judgment never had they giv'n again. But now the dauntless goddess sprung from Jove, Bearing the terrors of her gorgon shield, E'en when my hand was raised against them, spread Illusion round me, and my sensé disturb'd With frenzy, that amidst the herds I stain'd My hands with blood, whilst they, against my will Escaped, deride me. If th' immortal gods Oppose him, e'en the dastard shall escape... The brave man's vengeance. Me what now behoves? 'Gainst me the hatred of the gods is shown, The Grecian camp abhors me, and all Troy Is hostile to me, and these fields around. Shall I then quit this naval station, leave The sons of Atreus, and my homeward course Steer o'er th' Ægean sea? But with what eye Shall I behold my father? how present Myself before him? Will he bear my sight Thus naked, with no martial honours graced, Whose ample crown of glory he obtain'd? It is not to be borne. What if I rush Against the Trojan rampires, and alone Their pow'rs assaulting, after noble deeds Perform'd, find there an honourable death? Thus I should cause the sons of Atreus joy. This must not be: some means must be emprised To show my aged father that his son Glows with the spirit of his high-born race. For base his mind, who wishes length of life, When ills, that hope no change, enclose him round. What pleasure brings the day, which only adds A day to life, for such a little space Removing death? Him lightly I esteem, Who with vain hopes deludes his glowing heart. To live with glory, or with glory die, This is the brave man's part. You have my thoughts. Chorus SHOC No man will ever say these words are false; They are the genuine dictates of thy heart. Yet he thou soften'd; let thy friends prevail; Appease thy mind, nor harbour thoughts like these. Tecmessa My lord, loved Ajax, no severer ill, Than the necessity of fate, can fall On man's unhappy race. I was born free; My father 'mongst the Phrygians of high pow'r, And ample wealth; but now I am a slave; Such was the pleasure of the gods, and such Thy puissant hand. Led from that hour to share Thy bed, to thee benevolent I deem Thy welfare mine; and by Ephestian Jove, i By the dear tie that binds my fate to thine, I now implore thee, leave me not exposed To the offensive insults of thy foes, Ah, leave me not to other lords a slave! For, shou'dst thou die, abandon'd and bereaved Of thee that very day, be thou assured, I, with thy son, by some proud Argive seized By force abhorr'd, shall eat the wretched food Of slavery; and some lord with bitter taunt Shall cut me to the soul, and say, Behold The wife of Ajax, of the Grecian host Once the most potent, from that envied height Sunk to this abject state of servitude : Thus shall he taunt me, by ill fate depress'd, With words to thee disgraceful, and thy race. But, ah! respect thy father, left to waste In grief the cheerless hours of age; respect Thy mother, to the weight of many years Consign'd; with pray'rs she oft invokes the gods To see thee in her house with life return'd.. Pity thy son, O king; of thee bereaved, Who shall instruct and form his infant mind, Left to unfriendly guardians? Shou'dst thou die, What ill to him and me dost thou bequeath? Nothing remains for me, to which mine eye Looks up, save thee. Beneath thy conquering spear My ruin'd country, and my mother sunk; Fate snatch'd my father to the realms below, And both my parents have their mansion there. What country will console me for thy loss, What wealth? On thee my all of safety rests, Then hold me in thy memory: it becomes A man, if aught delightful to his soul He hath received, to bear a grateful mind: A Kindness gives birth to kindness; in the heart When grateful memory holds its seat no more, The man to every generous sense is lost, Chorus Oh that thy bosom, Ajax, felt, like mine, The touch of pity! Thou wou'dst praise her words. Ajax Great praise indeed from me she will obtain, My mandates firmly if she dare perform, Berde Tecmessa All, my loved Ajax, all I will perform, Obedient to thy will. Ajax Bring then my son, That I may see him. Tecmessa By my fears alarm'd Hence I removed him. Ajax In these recent ills? Or what thy fears?, Tecmessa Lest the unhappy child By meeting thee should die. Ajax With my ill fate. That had accorded Tecmessa Anxious was my care Secure to keep him. Ajax Prudent was the act; TI thank thee for the caution. Tecmessa What besides Grateful to thee can I perform ? Ajax My son, Tecmessa Let me speak to him; let me see him. Ajax Not far thy menial train attend their charge, Tecmessa My son, thy father calls thee: in his hands Whoe'er now holds him, hither let him haste., I Ajax Comes he thus call'd, or hears he not thy voice? Tecmessa Advancing near th' attendant with him comes. EURYSACES brought in. Ajax Bring him, nay bring him forward; for the sight Of the fresh blood, which from this carnage streams, Will not affright him, if he be my son.. Thus early in his father’s rugged lore He shou'd be train'd, and taught to catch the flame That glows within this bosom, my son, to Be happier than thy father: in all else Be like him so thou never canst be base.all In this I deem thee blest, that to these ills Thou art insensible; the sweetest life. Consists in feeling nothing; but by time for Thou will be taught to grieve and to rejoice/ When thou hast reach'd that age, behoves thee show Among thy father's foes that thou art sprung Brave from the brave meanwhile may gentle gales Around thee breathe, and cherish thy young mind To joy thy mother's soul. This well know That not a Grecian with disgraceful wrongs f Will dare oppose thee, though of me bereaved So firm a guardian o'er thee shall I leave In Teucer, watchful to protect thy youth, Though chasing now in distant fields the foe. But now, my brave associates, train'd to lift The shield in war, and sweep the surging main, I charge you all (refuse me not this grace) Announce my mandate to him, let him lead This child to Salamis, and show him there To Telamon, and her that shares his bed, My mother Eribœa, that their age He always may support, till they descend To the dark mansions of the king below. Nor 'midst contending Chiefs shall umpires sit My arms the prize of glory to adjudge, Nor he, my baleful pest: but thou, my son, Retain my ample shield, its seven strong plates Unpierced by hostile spear; my other arms Be buried with me. Take thou now the boy, And instant lead him hence; nor in the tent Weep or lament; to wailings nature prompts A woman's melting soul; compose thy mind: When ulcer'd wounds the cutting steel require, No mystic charm the skilful leach applies. Chorus MOT 1 tremble as I hear thy earnest charge : Unpleasing to me are thy pointed words. Tecmessa My lord, loved Ajax, what intends thy thought? Ajax Ask not, make no inquiries; teach thy mind A calm composure; it becomes thee well. Tecmessa Despair hangs heavy on me: by the gods, And by thy son, thy pity I implore, Ah, leave us not abandon'd and undone! Ajax Thou dost offend me highly: know'st thou not That henceforth nothing to the gods I owe. Tecmessa Speak words of happier import. Ajax Vain thy cries. Tecmessa Hear me, O hear me! Ajax I have heard too much. Tecmessa O king, I tremble. Ajax Instant bear her hence. What folly this, Tecmessa Oh, by the gods, relent! Ajax If thou canst think my nature now to form! Chorus STRO. 1. Illustrious Salamis, around whose shores The sea with all its wild waves roars, Conspicuous rise thy cliffs sublime, And guard, loved isle, thy happy plains. Whilst me an irksome length of time In Ida's marshy vales detains: Unheeded here a wretched life I lead, Amidst the flocks that graze the meed; Year after year rolls slow away, On me hope beams no cheerful ray; From misery doom'd no pause to know But in the dark and dreary realms below. ANTIS. 1. The noble Ajax now with frenzy fired (Some god the glowing rage inspired) Immedicable ills sustains; And with fresh pangs my heart is rent By thee amidst embattled plains To conquest and to glory sent. With grief th' illustrious hero we survey To gloomy thadness now a prey; And all his mighty deeds in war, Deeds which the highest worth declare, Are lost, unwelcome to the unkind, While folly swells the proud Atridæ's mind. Hoary in her locks of age And worn with many a rolling year, With what affliction will his mother hear Her frentic son's distemper'd rage! Not in soft notes will she complain, Like Philomela's pity-moving strain; But she will give loud griefs to fise, Lamenting with heart-piercing cries; And in the anguish of despair Beat her sad breast, and rend her silver hair. In the silent shades below Får better were thy doom to rest, Than thus to breathe the vital air, opprest With dire disease and hopeless woe; Thy train of kind affections lost, And all thy soul in frenzy's whirlwind tost, Thou high-born Chief, in martial fame Surpassing all of Grecian name. These ills how will thy sire deplore, Ills to his noble race ne'er known before! Ajax STRO. 2. ANTIS. 2. AJAX, TECMESSA, CHORUS. Time in the length of its unbounded course Draws things obscure to light, and sinks in shades The most conspicuous: no event befals, But what might be expected; solemn oaths Yield to assaults, and the obdurate mind. And I, who late like temper'd steel retain'd My firmness, by this woman have been taught A softer tone. I pity her sad state, Left 'mongst her foes a widow, and my son An orphan. To the margin of the sea Hence then I go, and in the cleansing wave Wash off these stains, if so I may appease The anger of the goddess. Where I find: A place unmark'd by human foot, this sword, The most abhorr'd of weapons, in the ground Deep-buried I will hide, where never eye... Shall see it more; let night, and hell's dark king Keep it; for from the hour when I received From Hector's hostile hand this gift, from Greece No grateful meed, no honour have I shared. Well was it said, The gifts of hostile hands Are ever hostile, and with mischiefs fraught. Henceforth then to the gods we know to yield, And learn the sons of Atreus to revere; They are our Chiefs; behoves us to obey: Why not? the harshest and the strongest things Yield to their higher sovereigns: for this cause The Winters stiff with all their snows give place To summer glowing with its beauteous fruits; And the dark circle of the Night retirés That the fair Day may flame with orient light. A soft gale breathes, and the tempestuous sea, Groaning beneath impetuous winds, is calm. E'en all-subduing Sleep unbinds his chain, And sets his captives free. Why should not I Know gentler thoughts? This wisdom I have learn'd, That him, who is my foe, I so may hate As one perchance to be my friend again; And so far wish to aid my friend, as one That may know change: for friendship is a port In which our bark not always rides secure. But these things shall be well. Within the tent Retire, Tecmessa; with incessant vows Implore the favouring gods that they would grant My heart's warm wish. And you, my friends, with her Thus honour me. To Teucer, when he comes Give this my charge, that mine he make his care, And be to you benevolent. I go Where I must go: do you what I command. Though wretched now, you soon perchance may know That Ajax from his miseries is relieved. Chorus STRO. This, Joy, is thy enraptured hour ; I feel thy fierce tumultuous pow'r. Pan, Iö Pan, wild wanderer o'er each strand, From Cyllene's craggy brow Cover'd with perpetual snow, Amidst the gods thou leader of the band. Pan, Iö Pan, O king advance, And share thine own invented dance; Such Gnossus sees, and Nysa's height; Such measures now my bounding foot delight. Hast'ning o'er th' Icarian main, Royal Phœbus, Delian king, 'Midst my joy thy presence deign, And with thee all thy grace benignant bring! Now all our dark'ning sorrow flies, And the war brightens to our eyes : Now all is transport; now the welcome day Drives the sickly gloom of night; Now, O Jove, the glorious light Our ships revisits with its cheering ray: For Ajax now no more retains A sense of his distracting pains; Again his pious thoughts assign Just honours to the gods, and rites divine. Strong, O Time, thy withering pow'r: Bright thou bring'st Hope's gladsome hour! Our lord no more with anger burns, And to the royal Chiefs his soul returns. Messenger ANTIS. MESSENGER, CHORUS. My friends and fellow soldiers, what hath pass'd I wish to tell you. From the Mysian heights Teucer is now arrived: soon as the camp He enter'd, all the Argive troops at once Reviled him; while yet distant they perceived His steps advancing, the tumultuous croud Gathers arround him, and from every side Insults him with reproaches; not a man Check'd his rude tongue; the brother this, they cry, Of him, whose frentic treachery to the host Hath done foul wrong; yet shall not all thy pow'r Protect him from our vengeance. To such height The tumult rose, that they unsheath'd and shook Their threatening swords; till some age-honour'd Chiefs The swelling rage with soothing words appeased. For all things to our lords we ought to show. Chorus He is not in the tent; he late went forth, His measures prudent, and his passions calm. Messenger Alas, too late then hither was I sent, Or were my steps, false to my charge, too slow? Chorus What then is wanted, that required thy speed ? Messenger Teucer gave charge that, till his presence here, Ajax be not allow'd to quit the tent. Chorus He is gone forth; but with more sober thought, Seeking to calm the anger of the gods. Messenger These words are full of folly, if the Seer, Zealous to save him, aught of truth presage. Chorus What presage? Of this subject know'st thou aught? Messenger Thus much I know; for I, as it befel, Was present, From th' assembled kings apart, Alone, and distant from th' imperial Chiefs, Calchas retired, and with a friend's warm zeal Grasping the hand of Teucer gave him charge By all the arts could be devised this day, That now shines o'er us, in his tent restrain'd From pow'r of roving Ajax to secure, If e'er he wish'd alive to see him more...... For through this day alone against him flames The vengeance of Minerva: this the Seertet: Pronounced, that useless and unwieldly strength, Crush'd by th' offended gods, in ruin sinks,..... When man of mortal birth with pride aspires Beyond a mortal. From his house in arms When marching, thus presumptuous he was found; My son, his father well advised, in war Be conquest thy high aim, but with the gods Always to conquer: He with daring vaunt Madly replied, The feeble, with the gods His weakness aiding, conquest may obtain; I, e'en without the gods, am confident To snatch that glory. Such his haughty boast: Nor once alone; but when Minerya's voice, Incited him against the foes to turn His slaughtering hand, with unbeseeming words Fierce he replied, Thy favour, goddess, yield ... To other Argives; through my post in arms The war shall never break. With such proud speech Himself beyond the state of mortal man Exalting, he to ruthless anger roused The martial queen. But through this present day If the impending danger he escapedot noud I Our care may soon avert his fate, the godom. No more opposing. Thus the prophet spoke 3/ I And Teucer instant from th’ imperial tent Sent me to thee, with this high mandate charged, To guard him, If we fail, he is no more,IT If Calchas in th' events of fate be skill'de Chorus O thou poor sufferer, wretched in thy fate, Come forth, Tecmessa, hear these words of woe; For this cuts deep, and ruins all thy joy. Tecmessa TECMESSA, CHORUS. Why have you roused me from my seat, where late I found short respite from oppressing ills? Chorus Hear thou this man: the charge he bears respects The fate of Ajax, and excites my grief. Tecmessa Speak, man; what say'st thou? Are we then undone ? Messenger Of thy fate I know nothing; but my hopes, If Ajax from the tent be gone, are lost. Tecmessa He is; I therefore dread to hear thy charge. Messenger This mandate Teucer gave, within the tent To guard him, not allow'd to rove alone. Tecmessa And where is Teucer? Why this mandate giv'n? Messenger He lately is return'd; but fears th' event Tecmessa Ah wretched me, who taught him thus to fear? Messenger The fate-fortelling Calchas on this day, Tecmessa Save him, my friends, oh save him; haste, prevent This harsh necessity of fate: fly some To Teucer, let him come with swiftest speed: Along the winding shores some to the west, Some to the orient sun direct your search, And find th' ill-omen'd wand'rings of your lord. I know he hath deceived me; I am sunk, Ah me! an outcast from his former grace. What shall I do, my son? Not linger here, But go as far as I have strength to go. Let us then go, my friends; yes, let us fly; This no time to sit, if we could save A man that rushes with such speed to die. Chorus I for the search am ready; nor shall words Alone, but zealous speed my promptness show. Ajax There stands the slaughtering sword, and bears its point In readiness to wound, as one would judge At leisure viewing it. This was the gift Of Hector; never stranger to my soul Like him was hateful, never to my eyes Was one so odious. In the hostile ground Of Troy fix'd firm it rears its sharpen'd point. I fix'd it deep, that friendly it might give A speedy death: this well I have prepared. And now thy grace, O Jove, I first implore, (So right requires) I shall not ask the grant Of ample honours; send some messenger, Fraught with the mour 'u tidings of my death, To Teucer, that he first may bear me hence Fallen on this sword fresh-dropping with my blood; Nor let me by my foes first seen be cast To birds obscene and hungry dogs a prey: This I implore of thee, O Jove. Thee next, Hermes, thou guide to the infernal realms, Thee I invoke; he no fierce writhings mine Of lingering and convulsive agonies; But lead me gently to the shades below, Soon as this sword shall pierce my side. And you, For ever virgins, and for ever prompt To aid, for ever viewing all the ills Of suffering mortals, in pursuit untired, On you, ye awful goddesses, I call; Mark how I perish, wretched in my fate, Crush'd by the sons of Atreus; their base hearts May basest miseries rend; as they destroy, Be they destroy'd; my blood as they behold By mine own hand thus shed, be their blood shed With rage remorseless by the hands of those Whom with parental love they hold most dear: Go then, ye swift-avenging Furies, go, ..... Lap their vile blood, of all the Grecian host Spare not a man. And thou, O Sun, who rollest Through yon ethereal height thy radiant car, My country when thou seest, thy golden rein Draw back, and to my aged father tell, Tell the unhappy queen that gave me birth, My miseries and my death the cries of grief, When she shall hear these tidings, she will raise Through all the city. But lamenting strains Have hear no place: the deed must now be dared. O Death, O Death, advance; behold me now; Soon in thy mansions shall I dwell, and there Hold converse with thee. To the golden beams Of this bright day; to thee, resplendent Sun, Rolling on high, I make my last address, Henceforth I never shall address you more. O light of heav'n; and O thou sacred soil Of Salamis, my country; O ye gods, That guard my hearth; thou, Athens, high in fame, And you, her sons, with whom my youth was train'd; Ye fountains here, ye rivers, and ye fields Of Troy, by you I long have been sustain'd; You I address, to you I bid farewell; Ajax to you speaks his last words; henceforth My converse will be in the realms beneath.... Chorus Toil brings increase of toil; for where, ali where Have I not ranged to seek him? Yet no place Knows to inform me. Hist: I hear a sound. Chorus Our mates, who with us mount the gallant bark. Chorus What tidings?o/. To the west along the ships My weary steps have traced!! al quim co zif 1 And Hast thou found Chorus Enough of toil, but nothing more in sight." Chorus Nor to the east as I pursued my way To me did any trace of him appear. Chorus What pow'r, ah me! what pow'r of those that rule, Delighted with the task, the ocean-waves, Holding his sleepless seat; what god enthroned On high Olympus; or what conscious stream That rolls his flood into the Bosphorus, If he hath seen the stern unyielding Chief, Will tell me where he wanders? Hard for me After long toils to sink in blank despair, Nor find where from my sight conceal'd he lies. Tecmessa Ah me! Ah me! Chorus [in the grove. What voice of mourning from the grove resounds? Tecmessa O thou unhappy! Chorus I see th' ill-fated captive of his spear Tecmessa bending as oppress'd with woe. Tecmessa Woe, ruin, desolation close me round. Chorus What hath befallen Tecmessa Behold, behold, my friends, yet warm in death Where Ajax lies, roll'd on his deep-plunged sword. Chorus Alas for my return! Ah, thou hast slain With thee, O king, thy comrade in the bark. O wretched me! O thou afflicted dame! Tecmessa I at this sight have cause indeed for grief. Chorus Whose hand employ'd he in this deed of death? Tecmessa Doubtless his own: fix'd in the ground the sword, On which he fell, of this gives certain proof. Chorus Thy loss to me is ruin. Thou in blood Hast fall'n alone, and nigh thee not a friend To guard thee. I was witless, void of sense, Thus to neglect thee. Where lies Ajax, where Lies the indignant, stern, ill-fated Chief? Tecmessa It is a sight of horror: I will wrap This robe around him, with its ample folds Covering his corse: for none, that was his friend, Can bear to see him from his nostrils breathe The purple gore, and from the blackening wound By his own hand inflicted. Wretched me, What can I do? What friend will bear him hence?' Where now is Teucer? Hither should he bend His steps, how opportunely would he come The corse of his fallen brother to compose! Was thine! What art thou now? Such, that thy foes Would pity thee, and o'er thee drop a tear. Chorus Fix'd was thy purpose, yes, ill-fated Chief, Inflexibly thy heart was fix'd to seize Fit time t' accomplish this disastrous end Of thy unbounded griefs : such were thy groans By night, by day; such thy relentless hate, With passions breathing ruin, 'gainst the sons Of Atreus. The deep cause of all thy ills Rose from the contest for the glorious meed To valour due, the arms Achilles wore. Tecmessa Ah wretched me! Chorus This strong affliction pierces to thy heart. Tecmessa Ah wretched, wretched me! Chorus I marvel not at thy repeated groans, Lamenting the dear loss of such a friend. Tecmessa Thou canst but think so, while I feel it deep. Chorus My thoughts assent to thine. Tecmessa Alas my son, What yokes of slavery go we now to bear What eyes shall o'er us keep malignant watch! Chorus 'Midst these thy sorrows the unfeeling hearts Of the Atridæ, and their ruthless deeds Thou wailest: but the gods avert such ills Tecmessa These things had not been thus, but by the gods. Chorus They sink thee with an heavy weight of woes. Tecmessa The dreadful goddess, Pallas, sprung from Jove, To grace Ulysses, gave these evils birth. Chorus With insolence this deep-designing Chief Swells his dark mind; and at these ills, which sprung From frenzy, jeers with many a bitter mock; With him, (O grief!) these tidings heard, will join The sons of Atreus, our imperial Chiefs. Tecmessa And let them mock, in his calamities Let them exult: the time perchance may come, Though whilst he lived they lightly prized his worth, They may lament him dead with many a groan, And want him in the dreadful shock of war. The impotent of mind, whilst in their hands They hold a treasure, know not how to prize Its worth, till from them it be snatch'd away. To me his death brings sorrow, joy to them; To him it was most pleasing so to die, It was the consummation of his wish. Have they then cause to triumph in his death? No: by the gods he died, and not by them. Then let Ulysses swell with pride, none now Opposing. Ajax lives for them no more, But in his death to me leaves woes and groans. Teucer Ah miserable me! Chorus Be silent; for methinks I hear the voice Of Teucer, mournful for this ill its notes..... Teucer [not in sight. TEUCER, TECMESSA, CHORUS. O Ajax, O my brother, to my soul Most dear, hast thou, as loudly fame reports, With all thy virtues purchased this reward! Chorus O Teucer, thou must know it; he is dead. Teucer Ah, what a weight of misery is mine! Chorus Afflictions great as these...... Teucer Cho dd Oh wretched me! Chorus Give ample cause for grief. Teucer Disastrous fate! Chorus Teucer, we feel its weight. Teucer Ill-fated man! Where, in the realms of Troy where is his son? Chorus Alone within the tent. Teucer Go then with speed, And bring him hither, lest some daring hand With hostile force should seize him, like the whelp Of a lone lioness. Go, spare no toil : All will insult the dead, when low they lie. Chorus TEUCER, CHORUS. Teucer, to thee, while yet he lived, this charge, To which affection prompts thee now, he gave. Teucer Of all the sights, which e'er my eyes beheld, Most mournful this; 'my feet ne'er trod a path Which led to grief, that rends the heart, like this, Through which, O dearest Ajax, of thy death Soon as inform'd, I follow'd thee, and traced Thy steps; for quick through all the Grecian camp The rumour of thy dreadful fate was spread, As of some god: I heard it with dismay, And distant then groan'd deep; I see it now, And sink oppress'd with misery. Go, remove That robe, that all the ill these eyes may view. Oh, what a sight of horror! What a deed Of daring desperation! What a store Of woes hast thou in death laid up for me! For whither, to what people can I go, In thy distress who gave thee not my aid? Will Telamon, the father of us both, With gentle looks and well-affection'd mind Receive me, without thee? Will he do this, Who never, e'en in prosperous fortune, wore A pleasing smile? Much rather will he give His rage full scope, and wound me with reproach, That from a slave, the captive of his arms, Base-born, through cowardice and abject fear, Or with a villain's wiles, I have betray'd And rich possessions. Thus, to anger prompt By nature, and through age now more severe, He to high passions will give way, and urge A charge against me I have not deserved :: Thus rated as a slave shall I be driven... An outcast from my country. This my doom At Salamis: but on the coast of Troy I shall find many enemies, but few To favour me, and all this through thy death. But how, ah wretched me! how shall I draw Thy body from this sharp deep-piercing sword? It vibrates in the ground. Unhappy man, By whom art thou thus slaughter'd! Did thy thought Conceive that e'er the fatal time would come When Hector, though long dead, should work thy death? Mark, by the gods, the fate of both the Chiefs: Bound by the radiant belt, which Ajax gave, Was Hector by the rolling chariot dragg'd The gift of Hector, falls and lies in blood. Did not the Furies forge that slaughtering sword, And hell's dread monarch, ruthless artist, frame That belt? These things I deem, and all th' events Befalling mortal man, are by the gods Always assign'd... Is there whose mind dissents? Let him enjoy his thoughts: but these are mine. Chorus Of this no more; but be thy thoughts employ'd How to entomb this corse, and what reply Thou soon wilt make: I see a foe, who comes With rancorous malice to insult thy grief. Teucer Whom from the camp advancing dost thou see? Chorus The Spartan, in whose cause we sail'd to Troy. Teucer I see him near, now easy to be known... Menelaus MENELAUS, TEUCER, CHORUS. Forbear; to thee I speak; remove not hence That body; let it, as it is, remain, Teucer In such a mandate why thus waste thy words? Menelaus I will it, and so wills th' imperial Chief. Teucer But say, what cause canst thou for this assign? Is there not cause? From Salamis we hoped That we should bring him an ally to Greece, And faithful friend; but found him, put to proof, More hostile than the Phrygians; for he plann'd His bloody purpose to assault by night, And spread destruction with his raging sword Through all the army: and if this attempt Some god had not defeated, we had found The fate now fall'n on him; we had been slain, In blood with horror roll'd, and he had lived. He gave the Greek. The gen'rous Greek bestow'd A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd... But now some god from us his hostile rage Averted, or the flocks and herds to fall., For this just cause there is no man that breathes So potent as to entomb this corse with rites Of sepulture; but on the weed-clad sand To all the birds that scream along the shorel It shall be cast a prey. Nay, do not swell With rude and boisterous arrogance: alive, If he disdain'd our pow'r, we will at least Command him dead, nor ask thy leave, but force Shall ratify our will; for whilst he lived My mandates never would his pride obey." It is the mark of a malignant mind, When one, not raised above the common rank, Scorns to obey his rulers. In a state. Never can laws be well enforced, where fear Supports not their appointment; and an host In arms o'erleaps the modest bounds of rule, By fear and reverence to their Chiefs_unawed. And it behoves a man, though large his limbs And vast his strength, to think that he may fall E'en by a petty ill. But know thou this,...! Where modesty and fear unite, they bring Protection; but licentious arrogance, That gives full sail to its intemperate. will," Shall sink the state, though proudly for awhile She rides before a fair and favouring gale. Fear then should know its place: nor let us think That as our wild wills urge us if we act, We shall not suffer just returns of ill : These have their course alternate. In times past Hi insolence flamed high; I triumph now, And charge thee not to inter him, lest perchance Entombing him thou sink into the tomb. Chorus Do not, O king of Sparta, from thy lips Whilst wisdom speaks its dictates, wrong the dead. Teucer No more, my friends, if one of low-born race Acts basely, shall I marvel, since the great, Who glory in their high-traced ancestry, Thus merit censure for dishonest speech. Didst thou not tune thy proem with these words, (Speak them again) that thou didst bring this man To Troy, received as an ally to Greece ? Did he not plough the deep, and join the war Lord of himself? Where then thy pow'r o'er him? What right hast thou as sovereign to command The warlike troops he led, and was their Chief? Thou camest the king of Sparta, not our lord. The law of martial rule gave no command To thee o'er him, more than to him o'er thee. Subjection to superior pow'r is here Thy duty, not to lead th' associate force Of Greece, that thou o'er Ajax shou'dst bear sway. Rule thy own vassals, and with high-swoln vaunts Keep them in awe. Forbid it thou, or he The other chieftain, him with hallow'd rites I will entomb, nor fear thy empty threats. Not for thy wife did Ajax join the war, His was no mercenary spear; his oath He held in reverence high, not thee, nor deign'd To grace the worthless. Take then my resolve, Bring all thy heralds, bring th' imperial Chief; Not for thy clamours will I turn aside. From my intent. I know thee what thou art. Chorus Such words, around us whilst afflictions press, Have not my approbation: they are harsh, And, though to reason highly just, wound deep. This archer bears, it seems, a lofty mind. Teucer Mine is no vulgar art. Menelaus How wou'dst thou vaunt, If thou cou'dst bear a shield? Teucer Thy force in arms Thus naked I defy. Menelaus Thy tongue is bold, With pride o'erflowing. Teucer When the cause is just, An honest pride may be indulged. How just, To honour him that slew me? Slew thee! Strange, That dead thou yet shou'dst live. Menelaus The gods preserved My life; he else had kill'd me. Teucer By their grace Preserved, dishonour not the gods. Menelaus Their laws What shows me prone to violate? Teucer Thy charge Not to entomb the dead. Menelaus They were my foes. My honour thus requires. Teucer 'Gainst thee a foe Did Ajax ever lead? I hated him, He hated me: thou know'st this. In the votes Thou wast found false and fraudulent. Menelaus That blame Be theirs, who from the urns drew forth the lots, Teucer Not mine. By stealth, and basely canst thou do Many base deeds. Those words shall cost hee dear. Teucer Not more perchance than we shall well repay. Menelaus In brief I say he shall not be entomb'd... Teucer Hear thou my answer, He shall be entomb'd. Menelaus TEUS. Erewhile I saw a man of doughty tongue Rating the mariners to hoist their sails, While a storm threaten'd: but when danger rose, Howling amidst the tempest, not a word From that bold tongue was heard; wrapt in his cloke He lay, and suffer'd every sailor's foot At will to trample on him. So the force... Of an impetuous tempest bursting black From a small cloud may in a moment check Thee, and thy boisterous tongue, and all thy noise. And I once saw a man, with folly fraught Insulting those around him when oppress'd With ills. A man resembling me, and warm With my free spirit, saw him, and rebuked With words like these, Vain mortal to the dead Offer no wrong; else, be assured, that wrong Shall be repaid with vengeance. Thus he warn'd The futile wretch. Methinks I see him: thou Art he, no other. Speak I riddles now?:: Ill it becomes me to rebuke with words One whom my pow'r can force. I leave thee now. TRUC. Go, get thee hence: to me it were a shame To listen to a slight man's senseless words. Chorus TEUCER, CHORUS. To outrage soon will this contention rise. But haste thee, Teucer, with the utmost speed Mark some fit place, within whose hallow'd mould Thou may'st inter him, and a dreary tomb, A monument to future ages, raise. Teucer And in meet time his son and wife approach To deck the tomb of the unhappy dead. Teucer TECMESSA, EURYSACES, TEUCER, CHORUS. Come hither, child, stand near, with suppliant hands Touch him that gave thee birth: now take thy seat Lowly beside his knees, and in thy hands Hold thou my hair, and hers, and thine, the last Sad gift of mourning suppliants. From the camp By force should any drag thee from the dead, May the wretch find a wretched death, and lie In a strange land unburied, all his race Cut off, as I cut off these locks. My child, Take them, and keep them: let no ruffian force Remove thee hence, but closely, clasp the dead. And stand not you like women round the corse, But guard it well like men, till I return, And bear him to the tomb, whoe'er oppose. Chorus STRO. 1. ANTIS. 1. TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. When will the last revolving year Of all this numerous train Slow wandering in its course appear 'Midst ills I here sustain ?.. Toils rise on toils, and woes on woes, The wasteful war around us glows, And misery haunts this place. The hateful walls of Troy around,, Unhappy Greece, what hast thou found, But ruin and disgrace?... Oh had he first been swept away Through air by wild winds tost; Or sunk from heav'n's ethereal ray, To Pluto's dreary coast; Who train'd the Grecians to the field, Taught them the sword, the spear to wield, And steel'd the gentle mind ! Hence toil gives birth to toil again, Hence carnage stains th' ensanguin'd plain, For he destroy'd mankind. Nor the brow with chaplets bound Breathing balmy odours round, Nor the social glow of soul Kindling o'er the generous bowl, Nor the dulcet strain that rings Jocond from the sounding strings, Nor endearing love's delight That with rapture fills the night, Me will he permit to prove; He, alas! hath murder'd love. But neglected here I lie Open to th' inclement sky; And my rough and matted hair Drinks the dews of night's moist air, Memorials sad of Troy! Yet, till now, when pale affright Roll'd her hideous form through night, Great in arms, his shield t' oppose, Ajax as my rampire rose, And my terror was no more. Now the hero I deplore To the gloomy god consign'd; Now what joy can touch my mind? Oh that on the pine-clad brow Dark'ning o'er the sea below, Where the cliffs of Sunium rise, Rocky bulwarks, to the skies, I were placed; with sweet address Sacred Athens would I bless, And feel a social joy! Teucer STRO. 2. ANTIS. 2. TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. I saw th' imperial Chief with haughty step Advancing, therefore hasten'd my return. Expect a torrent of opprobrious words. Agamemnon AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, &c. Thee to burst forth in rude contemptuous speech Against us, by our vengeance not chastised, Thee doth this daring insolence become, Sprung from a slave the captive of the spear?.. Had she, who gave thee birth, been high in rank, How proudly wou'dst thou vaunt, and rear thy crest, Since, nothing as thou art, for one who now Is nothing, thou hast dared to scorn our rule, Asserting that we came not o'er the host Or fleet of Greece commanders, nor o'er thee; And Ajax, such thy descant, plough'd the sea Lord of himself. How shameful from a slave To hear such arrogance? And what was he, For whom these haughty clamours thou hast raised? Whither did he advance, where fix his foot, Where mine I fix'd not? In the Grecian camp Was no man brave but he? Unpleasant fruit The contest for the hero's arms proposed Affords us, if by Teucer in each place Proclaim'd unjust; and canker'd envy still Basely repines to yield the honours due To higher merit, where the general voice Adjudged them; and with rude licentious tongue You load me with reproaches, or with guile, Your vain ambition frustrate, stab at me. Were moods like these indulged, no law could stand On a firm basis, if the right adjudged We should reject, and in the highest rank Place those to whom the lowest is assign'd. But these things must be check'd. The high-built frame, The massy-structured limb, the hardy nerve Yield not protection: but the prudent mind The conquest every where obtains. The ox, Though vast his bulk, is taught the path prescribed By a small whip: this discipline, I see, Will soon reach thee, some prudence if thy mind Acquire not, for a man that is no more, But now a shade, thus daring to insult, And pour the torrent of opprobious speech. Wilt thou ne'er feel the curb of modesty ? Ne'er know the baseness of thy birth, and bring Some one of generous blood to speak for thee? No meaning to my ears thy words convey; I understand not thy barbaric speech. Chorus Oh that your minds to gentler thoughts were calm'd! My soul can form no better wish for each. Teucer Ah me, how soon the memory of the dead Fades from the faithless mind, and is effaced, Thee, Ajax, in his favour, e'en in things To him of little import, since this man No longer holds ! Yet oft hast thou exposed Thy life for him with toil in bloody fields. But all these things are vanish'd, and have left No trace behind. Thy tongue abounds with words, Vain-talker! but is all remembrance lost? Can'st thou forget, within your works enclosed, When all was rout, confusion, and dismay, Alone he came, he saved you? When the flames Blazed on your lofty decks, when o'er the trench Hector had leap'd, and on your navy roll'd The thunder of the war, who check'd his force? Was not the glorious action his, who ne'er, Thou say'st, advanced his foot? Did not for you His valour these heroic deeds achieve? Nay more, 'gainst Hector shield to shield opposed He stood in dreadful fight, by choice, not chance ; No' coward lot into the 'midst he threw, No clod of moisten'd earth; but with light bound What from the crested helmet first would leap. These were his noble deeds: with him I stood, This slave, from a barbaric mother born. What was thy view in this unhappy taunt? Thy father's father, Pelops of old times, Was a barbarie Phrygian: know'st thou this? Know'st thou that Atreus was thy sire, of men Most impious, to his brother at a feast Who served up his own sons. From Crete her birth Thy mother drew; and when thy father found: His bed polluted with adulterous lust, He cast her to the monsters of the main...... From such art thou descended; and my birth Darest thou revile, from Telamon derived, My father, whose illustrious deeds in arms. Shone with the brightest splendor, and obtain'd My mother to his bed, of royal blood, The daughter of Laomedon, the prize. Of highest honour by Alcides giv'n'?... Thus noble, and from noble parents sprung, Should I dishonour those whose blood I share, Whom thou, thus miserably fall'n, wou'dst cast Unburied forth? Nor dost thou blush, this threat Denouncing. But of this be thou assured, Him if your violence cast forth, us three Shall it cast forth together with him laid. To me more glorious 'midst this honest toil I deem it in a brother's cause to die, Than for thy wife, or for thy brother's. Go, Of me regardless, yet regard thyself: Me if thou wrong, thou shalt have cause to wish That coward fear had check'd thy daring pride. Chorus ULYSSES, AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. In happy hour, Ulysses, art thou come, If not to heighten, but allay this strife. Ulysses Soldiers, what strife? for our imperial chief Loud o'er this brave man's corse I heard from far. Agamemnon E'en now, O king Ulysses, from this man The basest language of reproach I heard. Ulysses Reproach! I blame not him who, when reviled, Retorts indignant the ungracious words. Agamemnon Him I rebuked for his base deeds to me. Ulysses What hath he done to merit such rebuke? Agamemnon He will not suffer, he declares, this corse To lie unhonour'd with sepulchral rites, But will entomb it, and defies my pow'r. Ulysses Is then a friend allow'd to speak the truth, The former bond of concord yet preserved ? Agamemnon Speak; I were else unwise: for thee I deem Of all the Grecians most my faithful friend. Ulysses Then hear me. By the gods, remorseless thus Form not the thought to cast this body forth Unburied; nor let violence transport Thy soul so far to hate, as under foot To trample justice. Once he was to me Of all the camp most hostile, from the time I triumph'd in the contest for the arms Of lost Achilles: yet, though such his mind To me averse, I would not wrong his worth, Refusing to his valour this just praise, That him, of all the Grecian chiefs who march'd To Troy, I saw the bravest in the field, Except Achilles. Such a man by thee Unjustly were dishonour'd: not to him, But to the gods, and to their sacred laws This were offence. A brave man, when no more, Though hated once, it is unjust to wrong. Agamemnon Dost thou, Ulysses, striving in his cause, Oppose my will? Ulysses I do. I hated him, Whilst honour bade me hate him. Agamemnon O'er his corse Shou'dst thou not triumph ? Ulysses In ungenerous joys Exult not, son of Atreus. Agamemnon Not with ease Is a king pious. Ulysses Well-advising friends He may hold high in honour. Agamemnon Regal pow'r A good man should obey. Ulysses Forbear: for thine The conquest, when thou yieldest to thy friends. Agamemnon Remember what a man it is thy wish To honour thus. Ulysses He was indeed my foe, But once most brave. Agamemnon What woud'st thou? Why this zeal, This reverence for the hated dead? Ulysses With me O'er hatred virtue triumphs. Agamemnon By mankind Such are deem'd spiritless. Ulysses Our friends we find Oft changed to bitter foes. Agamemnon To gain such friends Wouldst thou feel pleasure ? Ulysses The obdurate mind Gives me no pleasure. Agamemnon This day thou wilt show Our souls subdued by fear. Ulysses No: to all Greece I show your justice. Agamemnon Wou'dst thou that I grant This corse to be entomb'd? Ulysses Such is my wish : For to the tomb I must descend. Agamemnon All act That for themselves like grace they may receive. Ulysses Who than myself hath juster right to gain Advantage from my toils? Agamemnon Thy deed, not mine. Ulysses This shall be call'd But thine shall be the praise. Agamemnon To thee, be thou assured, a greater grace With pleasure I would yield; but him, or cast Unburied forth, or in the earth entomb'd, My hatred ever will pursue. Do thou, Thou hast my leave, what most thy soul approves. Chorus ULYSSES, TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, Whoe'er, Ulysses, holds thy wisdom cheap, Such since thy generous spirit, is unwise. Ulysses Now, Teucer, hear me speak my honest thoughts. I was thy foe: henceforth I am thy friend; And with thee wish to entomb the dead, t' share Thy toils, and every solemn rite provide From mortals due to grace the noblest dead. THUC. Thy words, Ulysses, claim my praise, my thanks; They show a noble nature, far beyond My expectation. In the Grecian camp None was, like thee, his foe; yet thou alone Hast spirit to protect him, and oppose With high disdain all insult to the dead; Whilst with wild outrage frentic came the Chief, He and his brother, with malignant will To cast him out unhonour'd with a tomb. For this may the almighty sire enthroned On this Olympus, may Erinnys still Mindful of wrongs, and Justice that effects, Though late, her solemn purpose, on their heads Inflict disgraceful vengeance, as they wish'd To cast him out, unworthily disgraced, Deprived of sepulture. Thy offer'd aid, Son of Laertes, in these funeral rites I fear, the dead revering, to accept, Lest it offend his shade. In all besides Assist us. From the camp if thou wilt send Others to grace the dead, it will not grieve My mind. These obsequies let me prepare; And know thy goodness hath my warm applause. Ulysses It was my wish to aid thee in these rites ; But since not pleasing to thy heart my aid, I leave thee, and thy pious plea approve. Teucer Enough: already hath too much of time Been wasted. Some prepare the hollow'd earth; Some for the pure ablutions o'er the flames Place the tall tripod; let one social band Bring from the tent the hero's radiant arms. And thou, my child, with filial reverence touch Thy father; raise thou with what strength thou hast, With me, his sides, for from his veins yet warm Spouts the black blood; let each man present here, Who feels the glow of friendship, rouse his zeal, Attend and toil in honour of the dead, Once great in every virtue; whilst he lived, No mortal with superior lustre shone. Chorus Mortals from what they see their knowledge gain; But ere he sees, no prophet's piercing mind The dark events of future fate can know.