The Seven Against Thebes
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ETEOCLES.
A SPY.
CHORUS OF CADMEAN MAIDENS.
ANTIGONE.
ISMENE.
A HERALD.
ETEOCLES
Clansmen of Cadmus, at the signal given
By time and season must the ruler speak
Who sets the course and steers the ship of State
With hand upon the tiller, and with eye
Watchful against the treachery of sleep.
For if all go aright, thank Heaven, men say,
But if adversely--which may God forefend!--
One name on many lips, from street to street,
Would bear the bruit and rumour of the time,
Down with Eteocles!--a clamorous curse,
A dirge of ruin. May averting Zeus
Make good his title here, in Cadmus' hold!
You it beseems now boys unripened yet
To lusty manhood, men gone past the prime
And increase of the full begetting seed,
And those whom youth and manhood well combined
Array for action--all to rise in aid
Of city, shrines, and altars of all powers
Who guard our land; that ne'er, to end of time,
Be blotted out the sacred service due
To our sweet mother-land and to her brood.
For she it was who to their guest-right called
Your waxing youth, was patient of the toil,
And cherished you on the land's gracious lap,
Alike to plant the hearth and bear the shield
In loyal service, for an hour like this.
Mark now! until to-day, luck rules our scale;
For we, though long beleaguered, in the main
Have with our sallies struck the foemen hard.
But now the seer, the feeder of the birds,
(Whose art unerring and prophetic skill
Of ear and mind divines their utterance
Without the lore of fire interpreted)
Foretelleth, by the mastery of his art,
That now an onset of Achaea's host
Is by a council of the night designed
To fall in double strength upon our walls.
Up and away, then, to the battlements,
The gates, the bulwarks! don your panoplies,
Array you at the breast-work, take your stand
On floorings of the towers, and with good heart
Stand firm for sudden sallies at the gates,
Nor hold too heinous a respect for hordes
Sent on you from afar: some god will guard!
I too, for shrewd espial of their camp,
Have sent forth scouts, and confidence is mine
They will not fail nor tremble at their task,
And, with their news, I fear no foeman's guile.
[Enter A SPY.
THE SPY
Eteocles, high king of Cadmus' folk,
I stand here with news certified and sure
From Argos' camp, things by myself descried.
Seven warriors yonder, doughty chiefs of might,
Into the crimsoned concave of a shield
Have shed a bull's blood, and, with hands immersed
Into the gore of sacrifice, have sworn
By Ares, lord of fight, and by thy name,
Blood-lapping Terror, Let our oath be heard--
Either to raze the walls, make void the hold
Of Cadmus--strive his children as they may--
Or, dying here, to make the foemen's land
With blood impasted. Then, as memory's gift
Unto their parents at the far-off home,
Chaplets they hung upon Adrastus' car,
With eyes tear-dropping, but no word of moan.
For their steeled spirit glowed with high resolve,
As lions pant, with battle in their eyes.
For them, no weak alarm delays the clear
Issues of death or life! I parted thence
Even as they cast the lots, how each should lead,
Against which gate, his serried company.
Rank then thy bravest, with what speed thou may'st,
Hard by the gates, to dash on them, for now,
Full-armed, the onward ranks of Argos come!
The dust whirls up, and from their panting steeds
White foamy flakes like snow bedew the plain.
Thou therefore, chieftain! like a steersman skilled,
Enshield the city's bulwarks, ere the blast
Of war comes darting on them! hark, the roar
Of the great landstorm with its waves of men!
Take Fortune by the forelock! for the rest,
By yonder dawn-light will I scan the field
Clear and aright, and surety of my word
Shall keep thee scatheless of the coming storm.
ETEOCLES
O Zeus and Earth and city-guarding gods,
And thou, my father's Curse, of baneful might,
Spare ye at least this town, nor root it up,
By violence of the foemen, stock and stem!
For here, from home and hearth, rings Hellas' tongue.
Forbid that e'er the yoke of slavery
Should bow this land of freedom, Cadmus' hold!
Be ye her help! your cause I plead with mine--
A city saved doth honour to her gods!
[Exit ETEOCLES, etc. Enter the CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
CHORUS
I wail in the stress of my terror,
and shrill is my cry of despair.
The foemen roll forth from their camp
as a billow, and onward they bear!
Their horsemen are swift in the forefront,
the dust rises up to the sky,
A signal, though speechless, of doom,
a herald more clear than a cry!
Hoof-trampled, the land of my love
bears onward the din to mine ears.
As a torrent descending a mountain,
it thunders and echoes and nears!
The doom is unloosened and cometh!
O kings and O queens of high Heaven,
Prevail that it fall not upon us:
the sign for their onset is given--
They stream to the walls from without,
white-shielded and keen for the fray.
They storm to the citadel gates--
what god or what goddess can stay
The rush of their feet? to what shrine
shall I bow me in terror and pray?
O gods high-throned in bliss,
we must crouch at the shrines in your home!
Not here must we tarry and wail:
shield clashes on shield as they come--
And now, even now is the hour
for the robes and the chaplets of prayer!
Mine eyes feel the flash of the sword,
the clang is instinct with the spear!
Is thy hand set against us, O Ares,
in ruin and wrath to o'erwhelm
Thine own immemorial land,
O god of the golden helm?
Look down upon us, we beseech thee,
on the land that thou lovest of old,
And ye, O protecting gods,
in pity your people behold!
Yea, save us, the maidenly troop,
from the doom and despair of the slave,
For the crests of the foemen come onward,
their rush is the rush of a wave
Rolled on by the war-god's breath!
almighty one, hear us and save
From the grasp of the Argives' might!
to the ramparts of Cadmus they crowd,
And, clenched in the teeth of the steeds,
the bits clink horror aloud!
And seven high chieftains of war,
with spear and with panoply bold,
Are set, by the law of the lot,
to storm the seven gates of our hold!
Be near and befriend us, O Pallas,
the Zeus-born maiden of might!
O lord of the steed and the sea,
be thy trident uplifted to smite
In eager desire of the fray, Poseidon!
and Ares come down,
In fatherly presence revealed,
to rescue Harmonia's town!
Thine too, Aphrodite, we are!
thou art mother and queen of our race,
To thee we cry out in our need,
from thee let thy children have grace!
Ye too, to scare back the foe,
be your cry as a wolf's howl wild,
Thou, O the wolf-lord, and thou,
of she-wolf Leto the child!
Woe and alack for the sound,
for the rattle of cars to the wall,
And the creak of the grinding axles!
O Hera, to thee is our call!
Artemis, maiden beloved!
the air is distraught with the spears,
And whither doth destiny drive us,
and where is the goal of our fears?
The blast of the terrible stones
on the ridge of our wall is not stayed,
At the gates is the brazen clash
of the bucklers--Apollo to aid!
Thou too, O daughter of Zeus,
who guidest the wavering fray
To the holy decision of fate,
Athena! be with us to-day!
Come down to the sevenfold gates
and harry the foemen away!
O gods and O sisters of gods,
our bulwark and guard! we beseech
That ye give not our war-worn hold
to a rabble of alien speech!
List to the call of the maidens,
the hands held up for the right,
Be near us, protect us, and show
that the city is dear in your sight!
Have heed for her sacrifice holy,
and thought of her offerings take,
Forget not her love and her worship,
be near her and smite for her sake!
[Re-enter ETEOCLES.
ETEOCLES
Hark to my question, things detestable!
Is this aright and for the city's weal,
And helpful to our army thus beset,
That ye before the statues of our gods
Should fling yourselves, and scream and shriek your fears?
Immodest, uncontrolled! Be this my lot--
Never in troublous nor in peaceful days
To dwell with aught that wears a female form!
Where womankind has power, no man can house,
Where womankind feeds panic, ruin rules
Alike in house and city! Look you now--
Your flying feet, and rumour of your fears,
Have spread a soulless panic on our walls,
And they without do go from strength to strength,
And we within make breach upon ourselves!
Such fate it brings, to house with womankind.
Therefore if any shall resist my rule--
Or man, or woman, or some sexless thing--
The vote of sentence shall decide their doom,
And stones of execution, past escape,
Shall finish all. Let not a woman's voice
Be loud in council! for the things without,
A man must care; let women keep within--
Even then is mischief all too probable!
Hear ye? or speak I to unheeding ears?
CHORUS
Ah, but I shudder, child of Oedipus!
I heard the clash and clang!
The axles rolled and rumbled; woe to us
Fire-welded bridles rang!
ETEOCLES
Say--when a ship is strained and deep in brine,
Did e'er a seaman mend his chance, who left
The helm, t'invoke the image at the prow?
CHORUS
Ah, but I fled to the shrines, I called to our helpers on high,
When the stone-shower roared at the portals!
I sped to the temples aloft, and loud was my call and my cry,
Look down and deliver. Immortals!
ETEOCLES
Ay, pray amain that stone may vanquish steel!
Were not that grace of gods? ay, ay--methinks,
When cities fall, the gods go forth from them!
CHORUS
Ah, let me die, or ever I behold
The gods go forth, in conflagration dire!
The foemen's rush and raid, and all our hold
Wrapt in the burning fire!
ETEOCLES
Cry not: on Heaven, in impotent debate!
What saith the saw?--Good saving Strength, in verity,
Out of Obedience breeds the babe Prosperity.
CHORUS
'Tis true: yet stronger is the power divine,
And oft, when man's estate is overbowed
With bitter pangs, disperses from his eyne
The heavy, hanging cloud!
ETEOCLES
Let men with sacrifice and augury
Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war;
Maids must be silent and abide within.
CHORUS
By grace of the gods we hold it,
a city untamed of the spear,
And the battlement wards from the wall
the foe and his aspect of fear!
What need of displeasure herein?
ETEOCLES
Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not,
But--so thou strike no fear into our men--
Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid.
CHORUS
Alack, it is fresh in mine ears,
the clamour and crash of the fray,
And up to our holiest height
I sped on my timorous way,
Bewildered, beset by the din!
ETEOCLES
Now, if ye hear the bruit of death or wounds,
Give not yourselves o'ermuch to shriek and scream,
For Ares ravens upon human flesh.
CHORUS
Ah, but the snorting of the steeds I hear!
ETEOCLES
Then, if thou hearts, hear them not too well!
CHORUS
Hark, the earth rumbles, as they close us round!
ETEOCLES
Enough if I am here, with plans prepared.
CHORUS
Alack, the battering at the gates is loud!
ETEOCLES
Peace! stay your tongue, or else the town may hear!
CHORUS
O warders of the walls, betray them not!
ETEOCLES
Bestrew your cries! in silence face your fate.
CHORUS
Gods of our city, see me not enslaved!
ETEOCLES
On me, on all, thy cries bring slavery.
CHORUS
Zeus, strong to smite, turn upon foes thy blow!
ETEOCLES
Zeus, what a curse are women, wrought by thee!
CHORUS
Weak wretches, even as men, when cities fall.
ETEOCLES
What! clasping gods, yet voicing thy despair?
CHORUS
In the sick heart, fear machete prey of speech.
ETEOCLES
Light is the thing I ask thee--do my will!
CHORUS
Ask swiftly: swiftly shall I know my power.
ETEOCLES
Silence, weak wretch! nor put thy friends in fear.
CHORUS
I speak no more: the general fate be mine!
ETEOCLES
I take that word as wiser than the rest.
Nay, more: these images possess thy will--
Pray, in their strength, that Heaven be on our side!
Then hear my prayers withal, and then ring out
The female triumph-note, thy privilege--
Yea, utter forth the usage Hellas knows,
The cry beside the altars, sounding clear
Encouragement to friends, alarm to foes.
But I unto all gods that guard our walls,
Lords of the plain or warders of the mart
And to Isthmus' stream and Dirge's rills,
I swear, if Fortune smiles and saves our town,
That we will make our altars reek with blood
Of sheep and kine, shed forth unto the gods,
And with victorious tokens front our fannies--
Corsets and cases that once our foemen wore,
Spear-shattered now--to deck these holy homes!
Be such thy vows to Heaven--away with sighs,
Away with outcry vain and barbarous,
That shall avail not, in a general doom!
But I will back, and, with six chosen men
Myself the seventh, to confront the foe
In this great aspect of a poisèd war,
Return and plant them at the sevenfold gates,
Or e'er the prompt and clamorous battle-scouts
Haste to inflame our counsel with the need.
[Exit ETEOCLES.
CHORUS
I mark his words, yet, dark and deep,
My heart's alarm forbiddeth sleep!
Close-clinging cares around my soul
Enkindle fears beyond control,
Presageful of what doom may fall
From the great leaguer of the wall!
So a poor dove is faint with fear
For her weak nestlings, while anew
Glides on the snaky ravisher!
In troop and squadron, hand on hand,
They climb and throng, and hemmed we stand,
While on the warders of our town
The flinty shower comes hurtling down!
Gods born of Zeus! put forth your might
For Cadmus' city, realm, and right!
What nobler land shall e'er be yours,
If once ye give to hostile powers
The deep rich soil, and Dirce's wave,
The nursing stream, Poseidon gave
And Tethys' children? Up and save!
Cast on the ranks that hem us round
A deadly panic, make them fling
Their arms in terror on the ground,
And die in carnage! thence shall spring
High honour for our clan and king!
Come at our wailing cry, and stand
As thronèd sentries of our land!
For pity and sorrow it were
that this immemorial town
Should sink to be slave of the spear,
to dust and to ashes gone down,
By the gods of Achaean worship
and arms of Achaean might
Sacked and defiled and dishonoured,
its women the prize of the fight--
That, haled by the hair as a steed,
their mantles dishevelled and torn,
The maiden and matron alike
should pass to the wedlock of scorn!
I hear it arise from the city,
the manifold wail of despair--
Woe, woe for the doom that shall be--
as in grasp of the foeman they fare!
For a woe and a weeping it is,
if the maiden inviolate flower
Is plucked by the foe in his might,
not culled in the bridal bower!
Alas for the hate and the horror--
how say it?--less hateful by far
Is the doom to be slain by the sword,
hewn down in the carnage of war!
For wide, ah! wide is the woe
when the foeman has mounted the wall;
There is havoc and terror and flame,
and the dark smoke broods over all,
And wild is the war-god's breath,
as in frenzy of conquest he springs,
And pollutes with the blast of his lips
the glory of holiest things!
Up to the citadel rise clash and din,
The war-net closes in,
The spear is in the heart: with blood imbrued
Young mothers wail aloud,
For children at their breast who scream and die!
And boys and maidens fly,
Yet scape not the pursuer, in his greed
To thrust and grasp and feed!
Robber with robber joins, each calls his mate
Unto the feast of hate--
The banquet, lo! is spread--
seize, rend, and tear!
No need to choose or share!
And all the wealth of earth to waste is poured--
A sight by all abhorred!
The grieving housewives eye it;
heaped and blent,
Earth's boons are spoiled and spent,
And waste to nothingness; and O alas,
Young maids, forlorn ye pass--
Fresh horror at your hearts--beneath the power
Of those who crop the flower!
Ye own the ruffian ravisher for lord,
And night brings rites abhorred!
Woe, woe for you! upon your grief and pain
There comes a fouler stain.
[Enter, on one side, THE SPY;
on the other, ETEOCLES
and the SIX CHAMPIONS.
SEMI-CHORUS
Look, friends! methinks the scout, who parted hence
To spy upon the foemen, comes with news,
His feet as swift as wafting chariot-wheels.
SEMI-CHORUS
Ay, and our king, the son of Oedipus,
Comes prompt to time, to learn the spy's report--
His heart is fainter than his foot is fast!
THE SPY
Well have I scanned the foe, and well can say
Unto which chief, by lot, each gate is given.
Tydeus already with his onset-cry
Storms at the gate called Proetides; but him
The seer Amphiaraus holds at halt,
Nor wills that he should cross Ismenus' ford,
Until the sacrifices promise fair.
But Tydeus, mad with lust of blood and broil,
Like to a cockatrice at noontide hour,
Hisses out wrath and smites with scourge of tongue
The prophet-son of Oecleus--Wise thou art,
Faint against war, and holding back from death!
With such revilings loud upon his lips
He waves the triple plumes that o'er his helm
Float overshadowing, as a courser's mane;
And at his shield's rim, terror in their tone,
Clang and reverberate the brazen bells.
And this proud sign, wrought on his shield, he bears--
The vault of heaven, inlaid with blazing stars;
And, for the boss, the bright moon glows at full,
The eye of night, the first and lordliest star.
Thus with high-vaunted armour, madly bold,
He clamours by the stream-bank, wild for war,
As a steed panting grimly on his bit,
Held in and chafing for the trumpet's bray!
Whom wilt thou set against him? when the gates
Of Proetus yield, who can his rush repel?
ETEOCLES
To me, no blazon on a foeman's shield
Shall e'er present a fear! such pointed threats
Are powerless to wound; his plumes and bells,
Without a spear, are snakes without a sting.
Nay, more--that pageant of which thou tellest--
The nightly sky displayed, ablaze with stars,
Upon his shield, palters with double sense--
One headstrong fool will find its truth anon!
For, if night fall upon his eyes in death,
Yon vaunting blazon will its own truth prove,
And he is prophet of his folly's fall.
Mine shall it be, to pit against his power
The loyal son of Astacus, as guard
To hold the gateways--a right valiant soul,
Who has in heed the throne of Modesty
And loathes the speech of Pride, and evermore
Shrinks from the base, but knows no other fear.
He springs by stock from those whom Ares spared,
The men called Sown, a right son of the soil,
And Melanippus styled. Now, what his arm
To-day shall do, rests with the dice of war,
And Ares shall ordain it; but his cause
Hath the true badge of Right, to urge him on
To guard, as son, his motherland from wrong.
CHORUS
Then may the gods give fortune fair
Unto our chief, sent forth to dare
War's terrible arbitrament!
But ah! when champions wend away,
I shudder, lest, from out the fray,
Only their blood-stained wrecks be sent!
THE SPY
Nay, let him pass, and the gods' help be his!
Next, Capaneus comes on, by lot to lead
The onset at the gates Electran styled:
A giant he, more huge than Tydeus' self,
And more than human in his arrogance--
May fate forefend his threat against our walls!
God willing, or unwilling--such his vaunt--
I will lay waste this city; Pallas' self,
Zeus' warrior maid, although she swoop to earth
And plant her in my path, shall stay me not.
And, for the flashes of the levin-bolt,
He holds them harmless as the noontide rays.
Mark, too, the symbol on his shield--a man
Scornfully weaponless but torch in hand,
And the flame glows within his