O’er all the house, and I a slave!
One night,
One night … aye, men have said it … maketh tame
A woman in a man’s arms…. O shame, shame!
What woman’s lips can so forswear her dead,
And give strange kisses in another’s bed?
Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will run
In the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone —
A thing not in God’s image, dull, unmoved
Of reason. O my Hector! best beloved,
That, being mine, wast all in all to me,
My prince, my wise one, O my majesty
Of valiance! No man’s touch had ever come
Near me, when thou from out my father’s home
Didst lead me and make me thine…. And thou art
dead,
And I war-flung to slavery and the bread
Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas!
What knoweth she of evils like to these,
That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for?
There liveth not in my life any more
The hope that others have. Nor will I tell
The lie to mine own heart, that aught is well
Or shall be well…. Yet, O, to dream were sweet!
LEADER.
Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet,
And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own.
HECUBA.
Lo, yonder ships: I ne’er set foot on one,
But tales and pictures tell, when over them
Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem,
Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast
Manned, the hull baled, to face it: till at last
Too strong breaks the o’erwhelming sea: lo, then
They cease, and yield them up as broken men
To fate and the wild waters. Even so
I in my many sorrows bear me low,
Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be.
The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me.
But, O, let Hector and the fates that fell
On Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne’er so well,
Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thou
The new lord that is set above thee now,
And make of thine own gentle piety
A prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou be
A strength to them that love us, and — God knows,
It may be — rear this babe among his foes,
My Hector’s child, to manhood and great aid
For Ilion. So her stones may yet be laid
One on another, if God will, and wrought
Again to a city! Ah, how thought to thought
Still beckons!… But what minion of the Greek
Is this that cometh, with new words to speak?
[Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.
TALTHYBIUS.
Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy,
Andromache, hate me not! ’Tis not in joy
I tell thee. But the people and the Kings
Have with one voice….
ANDROMACHE.
What is it? Evil things
Are on thy lips!
TALTHYBIUS.
Tis ordered, this child…. Oh,
How can I tell her of it?
ANDROMACHE.
Doth he not go
With me, to the same master?
TALTHYBIUS.
There is none
In Greece, shall e’er be master of thy son.
ANDROMACHE.
How? Will they leave him here to build again
The wreck?…
TALTHYBIUS.
I know not how to tell thee plain!
ANDROMACHE.
Thou hast a gentle heart … if it be ill,
And not good, news thou hidest!
TALTHYBIUS.
’Tis their will
Thy son shall die…. The whole vile thing is said
Now!
ANDROMACHE.
Oh, I could have borne mine enemy’s bed!
TALTHYBIUS.
And speaking in the council of the host
Odysseus hath prevailed —
ANDROMACHE.
O lost! lost! lost!…
Forgive me! It is not easy….
TALTHYBIUS.
… That the son
Of one so perilous be not fostered on
To manhood —
ANDROMACHE.
God; may his own counsel fall
On his own sons!
TALTHYBIUS.
… But from this crested wall
Of Troy be dashed, and die…. Nay, let the thing
Be done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor cling
So fiercely to him. Suffer as a brave
Woman in bitter pain; nor think to have
Strength which thou hast not. Look about thee here!
Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere?
Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thou
A prisoner and alone, one woman; how
Canst battle against us? For thine own good
I would not have thee strive, nor make ill blood
And shame about thee…. Ah, nor move thy lips
In silence there, to cast upon the ships
Thy curse! One word of evil to the host,
This babe shall have no burial, but be tossed
Naked…. Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may,
War’s fortune. So thou shalt not go thy way
Leaving this child unburied; nor the Greek
Be stern against thee, if thy heart be meek!
ANDROMACHE (to the child).
Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one,
In fierce men’s hands, leaving me here alone.
Thy father was too valiant; that is why
They slay thee! Other children, like to die,
Might have been spared for that. But on thy head
His good is turned to evil.
O thou bed
And bridal; O the joining of the hand,
That led me long ago to Hector’s land
To bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swords
To slaughter, but a Prince o’er all the hordes
Enthroned of wide-flung Asia…. Weepest thou?
Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know.
And Father will not come; he will not come;
Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tomb
Riven to set thee free! Not one of all
His brethren, nor the might of Ilion’s wall.
How shall it be? One horrible spring … deep,
deep
Down. And thy neck…. Ah God, so cometh
sleep!…
And none to pity thee!… Thou little thing
That curlest in my arms, what sweet scents cling
All round thy neck! Belovèd; can it be
All nothing, that this bosom cradled thee
And fostered; all the weary nights, wherethrough
I watched upon thy sickness, till I grew
Wasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time;
Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climb
About my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips….
O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips
All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks!
Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks
No wrong?… O Helen, Helen, thou ill tree
That Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of thee
As child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breath
From many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death,
And every rotting poison of the sky!
Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dry.
Greece and the world! God hate thee and destroy,
That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy,
And made the far-famed plains a was
te withal.
Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall,
If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift!
God hath undone me, and I cannot lift
One hand, one hand, to save my child from death….
O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneath
Your galleys’ benches!…
[She swoons: then half-rising.
Quick: I must begone
To the bridal…. I have lost my child, my own!
[The Soldiers close round her.
LEADER.
O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, one
Abhorrèd kiss, how are thine hosts undone!
TALTHYBIUS (bending over ANDROMACHE and gradually taking the Child from her).
Come, Child: let be that clasp of love
Outwearied! Walk thy ways with me,
Up to the crested tower, above
Thy father’s wall…. Where they decree
Thy soul shall perish. — Hold him: hold! —
Would God some other man might ply
These charges, one of duller mould,
And nearer to the iron than I!
HECUBA.
O Child, they rob us of our own,
Child of my Mighty One outworn:
Ours, ours thou art! — Can aught be done
Of deeds, can aught of pain be borne,
To aid thee? — Lo, this beaten head,
This bleeding bosom! These I spread
As gifts to thee. I can thus much.
Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee!
What fall yet lacketh, ere we touch
The last dead deep of misery?
[The Child, who has started back from TALTHYBIUS, is taken up by one of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while ANDROMACHE is set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships. TALTHYBIUS goes with the Child.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
[Strophe I.
In Salamis, filled with the foaming
Of billows and murmur of bees,
Old Telamon stayed from his roaming,
Long ago, on a throne of the seas;
Looking out on the hills olive-laden,
Enchanted, where first from the earth
The grey-gleaming fruit of the Maiden
Athena had birth;
A soft grey crown for a city
Belovèd a City of Light:
Yet he rested not there, nor had pity,
But went forth in his might,
Where Heracles wandered, the lonely
Bow-bearer, and lent him his hands
For the wrecking of one land only,
Of Ilion, Ilion only,
Most hated of lands!
[Antistrophe I.
Of the bravest of Hellas he made him
A ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds,
And sailed the wide waters, and stayed him
At last amid Simoïs’ reeds;
And the oars beat slow in the river,
And the long ropes held in the strand,
And he felt for his bow and his quiver,
The wrath of his hand.
And the old king died; and the towers
That Phoebus had builded did fall,
And his wrath, as a flame that devours,
Ran red over all;
And the fields and the woodlands lay blasted,
Long ago. Yea, twice hath the Sire
Uplifted his hand and downcast it
On the wall of the Dardan, downcast it
As a sword and as fire.
[Strophe 2.
In vain, all in vain,
O thou ‘mid the wine-jars golden
That movest in delicate joy,
Ganymêdês, child of Troy,
The lips of the Highest drain
The cup in thine hand upholden:
And thy mother, thy mother that bore thee,
Is wasted with fire and torn;
And the voice of her shores is heard,
Wild, as the voice of a bird,
For lovers and children before thee
Crying, and mothers outworn.
And the pools of thy bathing are perished,
And the wind-strewn ways of thy feet:
Yet thy face as aforetime is cherished
Of Zeus, and the breath of it sweet;
Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon it
In houses at rest and afar.
But thy land, He hath wrecked and o’erthrown it
In the wailing of war.
[Antistrophe 2.
O Love, ancient Love,
Of old to the Dardan given;
Love of the Lords of the Sky;
How didst thou lift us high
In Ilion, yea, and above
All cities, as wed with heaven!
For Zeus — O leave it unspoken:
But alas for the love of the Morn;
Morn of the milk-white wing,
The gentle, the earth-loving,
That shineth on battlements broken
In Troy, and a people forlorn!
And, lo, in her bowers Tithônus,
Our brother, yet sleeps as of old:
O, she too hath loved us and known us,
And the Steeds of her star, flashing gold,
Stooped hither and bore him above us;
Then blessed we the Gods in our joy.
But all that made them to love us
Hath perished from Troy.
* * * * *
[As the song ceases, the King MENELAUS enters, richly armed and followed by a bodyguard of Soldiers. He is a prey to violent and conflicting emotions.
MENELAUS.
How bright the face of heaven, and how sweet
The air this day, that layeth at my feet
The woman that I…. Nay: ’twas not for her
I came. ’Twas for the man, the cozener
And thief, that ate with me and stole away
By God’s grace, under the horse-hoofs of the Greek,
And round him all his land. And now I seek….
Curse her! I scarce can speak the name she bears,
That was my wife. Here with the prisoners
They keep her, in these huts, among the hordes
Of numbered slaves. — The host whose labouring swords
Won her, have given her up to me, to fill
My pleasure; perchance kill her, or not kill,
But lead her home. — Methinks I have foregone
The slaying of Helen here in Ilion….
Over the long seas I will bear her back,
And there, there, cast her out to whatso wrack
Of angry death they may devise, who know
Their dearest dead for her in Ilion. — Ho!
Ye soldiers! Up into the chambers where
She croucheth! Grip the long blood-reeking hair,
And drag her to mine eyes … [Controlling himself.
And when there come
Fair breezes, my long ships shall bear her home.
[The Soldiers go to force open the door of the second hut on the left.
HECUBA.
Thou deep Base of the World, and thou high Throne
Above the World, whoe’er thou art, unknown
And hard of surmise, Chain of Things that be,
Or Reason of our Reason; God, to thee
I lift my praise, seeing the silent road
That bringeth justice ere the end be trod
To all that breathes and dies.
MENELAUS (turning).
Ha! who is there
That prayeth heaven, and in so strange a prayer?
HECUBA.
I bless thee, Menelaus, I bless thee, If thou wilt slay her! Only fear to see Her visage, lest she snare thee and thou fall! She snareth strong men’s eyes; she snareth tall Cities; and fire from out her eateth up Houses. Such magic hath she, as a cup Of death!… Do I not know h
er? Yea, and thou, And these that lie around, do they not know? [The Soldiers return from the hut and stand aside to let HELEN pass between them. She comes through them, gentle and unafraid; there is no disorder in her raiment.
HELEN.
King Menelaus, thy first deed might make
A woman fear. Into my chamber brake
Thine armèd men, and lead me wrathfully.
Methinks, almost, I know thou hatest me.
Yet I would ask thee, what decree is gone
Forth for my life or death?
MENELAUS (struggling with his emotion).
There was not one
That scrupled for thee. All, all with one will
Gave thee to me, whom thou hast wronged, to kill!
HELEN.
And is it granted that I speak, or no,
In answer to them ere I die, to show
I die most wronged and innocent?
MENELAUS.
I seek
To kill thee, woman; not to hear thee speak!
HECUBA.
O hear her! She must never die unheard,
King Menelaus! And give me the word
To speak in answer! All the wrong she wrought
Away from thee, in Troy, thou knowest not.
The whole tale set together is a death
Too sure; she shall not ‘scape thee!
MENELAUS.
’Tis but breath
And time. For thy sake, Hecuba, if she need
To speak, I grant the prayer. I have no heed
Nor mercy — let her know it well — for her!
HELEN.
It may be that, how false or true soe’er
Thou deem me, I shall win no word from thee.
So sore thou holdest me thine enemy.
Yet I will take what words I think thy heart
Holdeth of anger: and in even part
Set my wrong and thy wrong, and all that fell.
[Pointing to HECUBA.
She cometh first, who bare the seed and well
Of springing sorrow, when to life she brought
Paris: and that old King, who quenched not
Quick in the spark, ere yet he woke to slay,
The fire-brand’s image. — But enough: a day
Came, and this Paris judged beneath the trees
Three Crowns of Life, three diverse Goddesses.
The gift of Pallas was of War, to lead
His East in conquering battles, and make bleed
The hearths of Hellas. Hera held a Throne —
If majesties he craved — to reign alone
From Phrygia to the last realm of the West.
And Cypris, if he deemed her loveliest,
Beyond all heaven, made dreams about my face
And for her grace gave me. And, lo! her grace
Was judged the fairest, and she stood above
Those twain. — Thus was I loved, and thus my
love
Hath holpen Hellas. No fierce Eastern crown
Is o’er your lands, no spear hath cast them down.