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Part VII
Part VII
Euryd. My friends,
I on my way without, as suppliant bound
To pay my vows at Pallas` shrine, have heard
Your words, and so I chanced to slip the bolt
Of the half-opened door, when, lo! a sound
Falls on my ears of evil near at hand,
And terror-struck I fell in deadly swoon
Back in my handmaids` arms; yet tell it me,
Tell the tale once again, for I shall hear,
By long experience disciplined to grief.
Mess. Dear lady, I will tell thee: I was by,
And will not leave one word of truth untold.
Why should we smooth and gloze, when all too soon
We should be found as liars? Truth is still
The best and wisest. Lo! I went with him,
Thy husband, in attendance, to the height
Of yonder plain, where still all ruthlessly
The corpse of Polynices tombless lay,
Mangled by dogs. And, having prayed to her,
The Goddess of all pathways, and to Pluto,
To look with favour on them, him they washed
With holy water; and what yet was left
We burnt in branches freshly cut, and heaped
A high raised grave from out the soil around,
And then we entered on the stone-paved home,
Death`s marriage chamber for the ill-starred maid.
And some one hears, while standing yet afar,
Shrill voice of wailing near the bridal bower,
By funeral rites unhallowed, and he comes
And tells my master, Creon. On his ears,
Advancing nearer, falls a shriek confused
Of bitter sorrow, and with grieving loud,
He utters one sad cry: "Me miserable!
And am I, then, a prophet? Do I wend
This day the dreariest way of all my life?
My son`s voice greets me. Go, my servants, go,
Quickly draw near, and standing by the tomb,
Search ye and see; and where the joined stones
Still leave an opening, look ye in, and say
If I hear Haemon`s voice, or if my soul
Is cheated by the Gods." And then we searched,
As he, our master, in his frenzy, bade us;
And, in the furthest corner of the vault,
We saw her hanging by a twisted cord
Of linen threads entwined, and him we found
Clasping her form in passionate embrace,
And mourning o`er the doom that robbed him of her,
His father`s deed, and that his marriage bed,
So full of sorrow. When he saw him there,
Groaning again in bitterness of heart,
He goes to him, and calls in wailing voice,
"Ah! wretched me! what dost thou! Hast thou lost
Thy reason? In what evil sinkest thou?
Come forth, my child, on bended knee I ask thee."
And then the boy, with fierce, wild gleaming eyes,
Glared at him, spat upon his face, and draws,
Still answering naught, the sharp two-edged sword.
Missing his aim (his father from the blow
Turning aside), in anger with himself,
The poor ill-doomed one, even as he was,
Fell on his sword, and drove it through his breast,
Full half its length, and clasping, yet alive,
The maiden`s arm, still soft, he there breathes out
In broken gasps, upon her fair white cheek,
A rain of blood. And so at last they lie,
Dead bridegroom with dead bride, and he has gained
His marriage rites in Hades` darksome home,
And left to all men witness terrible,
That man`s worst ill is stubbornness of heart.
[Exit Eurydice.
Chor. What dost thou make of this? She turns again,
And not one word, or good or ill, will speak.
Mess. I, too, am full of wonder. Yet with hopes
I feed myself, she will not think it meet,
Hearing her son`s woes, openly to wail
Before her subjects, but beneath her roof
Will think it best to bear her private griefs.
Too trained a judgment has she so to err.
Chor. I know not. To my mind, or silence hard,
Or vain wild cries, are signs of bitter woe.
Mess. Soon we shall know, within the house advancing,
If, in the passion of her heart, she hides
A secret purpose. Truly dost thou speak;
There is a terror in that silence hard.
Chor. [seeing Creon approaching with the corpse of
Haemon in his arms]
And, lo! the king himself comes on,
And in his hands he bears a record clear,
No woe (if I may speak) by others caused,
Himself the great offender.
Enter Creon, bearing Haemon`s body
Creon. Woe! for the sins of souls of evil mood,
Strong, mighty to destroy;
O ye who look on those of kindred race,
The slayers and the slain,
Woe for mine own rash plans that prosper not;
Woe for thee, son; but new in life`s career,
And by a new fate dying.
Woe! woe!
Thou diest, thou art gone,
Not by thine evil counsel, but by mine.
Chor. Ah me! Too late thou seems`st to see the right.
Creon. Ah me!
I learn the grievous lesson. On my head,
God, pressing sore, hath smitten me and vexed,
In ways most rough and terrible (ah me!),
Shattering the joy, and trampling underfoot.
Woe! woe! We toil for that which profits not.
Enter Second Messenger
Sec. Mess. My master! thou, as one who hast full store,
One source of sorrow bearest in thine arms,
And others in thy house, too soon, it seems,
Thou need`st must come and see.
Creon. And what remains
Worse evil than the evils that we bear?
Sec. Mess. Thy wife is dead. Thy dead son`s mother true,
Ill-starred one, smitten with a deadly blow,
But some few moments since.
Creon. O agony?
Thou house of Death, that none may purify,
Why dost thou thus destroy me?
O thou who comest, bringing in thy train
Woes horrible to tell,
Thou tramplest on a man already slain.
What say`st thou? What new tidings bring`st to me?
Ah me! ah me!
Is it that over all the slaughter wrought
My own wife`s death has come to crown it all?
Chor. It is but all too clear! No longer now
Does you recess conceal her.
[The gates open and show the dead body of Eurydice.
Creon. Woe is me!
This second stroke I gaze on, miserable,
What fate, yea, what still lies in wait for me?
Here in my arms I bear what was my son;
And there, O misery! look upon the dead.
Ah, wretched mother! ah, my son! my son!
Sec. Mess. Sore wounded, she around the altar clung,
And closed her darkening eyelids, and bewailed
The honoured bed of Megareus, who died
Long since, and then again that corpse thou hast;
And last of all she cried a bitter cry
Against thy deeds, the murderer of thy son.
Creon. Woe! woe! alas!
I shudder in my fear: Will no one strike
A deadly blow with sharp two-edged sword?
Fearful my fate, alas!
And with a fearful woe full sore beset.
Sec. Mess. She in her death charged thee with being the cause
Of all their sorrows, his and hers alike.
Creon. And in what way struck she the murderous blow?
Sec. Mess. With her own hand below her heart she stabbed,
Hearing her son`s most pitiable fate.
Creon. Ah me! The fault is mine. On no one else,
Of all that live, the fearful guilt can come;
I, even I, did slay thee, wretched one,
I; yes, I say it clearly. Come, ye guards,
Lead me forth quickly; lead me out of sight,
More crushed to nothing than the dead unborn.
Chor. Thou counsellest gain, if gain there be in ills,
For present evils then are easiest borne
When shortest lived.
Creon. Oh, come thou, then, come thou,
Last of my sorrows, that shall bring to me
Best boon, my life`s last day. Come, then, oh, come
That nevermore I look upon the light.
Chor. These things are in the future. What is near,
That we must do. O`er what is yet to come
They watch, to whom that work of right belongs.
Creon. I did but pray for what I most desire.
Chor. Pray thou for nothing more. For mortal man
There is no issue from a doom decreed.
Creon [looking at the two corpses] Lead me, then, forth,
vain shadow that I am,
Who slew thee, O my son, unwittingly,
And thee, too - (O my sorrow) - and I know not
Which way to look. All near at hand is turned
Aside to evil; and upon my head
There falls a doom far worse than I can bear.
Chor. Man`s highest blessedness
In wisdom chiefly stands;
And in the things that touch upon the Gods,
`Tis best in word of deed
To shun unholy pride;
Great words of boasting bring great punishments;
And so to gray-haired age
Comes wisdom at the last.
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