For if my deed shall match not your demand,
Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane
Your death's pollution leaves unto this land.
Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane
Your death's pollution leaves unto this land.
Aeschylus
that woe, the blood of many beasts,
And victims manifold to many gods,
Alone can cure. Right glad I were to shun
This strife, and am more fain of ignorance
Than of the wisdom of a woe endured.
The gods send better than my soul foretells!
CHORUS
Of many cries for mercy, hear the end.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Say on, then, for it shall not 'scape mine ear.
CHORUS
Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Even so; such things beseem a woman's wear.
CHORUS
Know, then, with these a fair device there is--
THE KING OF ARGOS
Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell?
CHORUS
Unless to us thou givest pledge secure--
THE KING OF ARGOS
What can thy girdles' craft achieve for thee?
CHORUS
Strange votive tablets shall these statues deck.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Mysterious thy resolve--avow it clear.
CHORUS
Swiftly to hang me on these sculptured gods!
THE KING OF ARGOS
Thy word is as a lash to urge my heart.
CHORUS
Thou seest truth, for I have cleared thine eye
THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, and woes manifold, invincible,
A crowd of ills, sweep on me torrent-like.
My bark goes forth upon a sea of troubles
Unfathomed, ill to traverse, harbourless.
For if my deed shall match not your demand,
Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane
Your death's pollution leaves unto this land.
Yet if against your kin, Aegyptus' race,
Before our gates I front the doom of war,
Will not the city's loss be sore? Shall men
For women's sake incarnadine the ground?
But yet the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord
I needs must fear: most awful unto man
The terror of his anger. Thou, old man,
The father of these maidens, gather up
Within your arms these wands of suppliance,
And lay them at the altars manifold
Of all our country's gods, that all the town
Know, by this sign, that ye come here to sue.
Nor, in thy haste, do thou say aught of me.
Swift is this folk to censure those who rule;
But, if they see these signs of suppliance,
It well may chance that each will pity you,
And loathe the young men's violent pursuit;
And thus a fairer favour you may find:
For, to the helpless, each man's heart is kind.
DANAUS
To us, beyond gifts manifold it is
To find a champion thus compassionate;
Yet send with me attendants, of thy folk,
Rightly to guide me, that I duly find
Each altar of your city's gods that stands
Before the fane, each dedicated shrine;
And that in safety through the city's ways
I may pass onwards: all unlike to yours
The outward semblance that I wear--the race
that Nilus rears is all dissimilar
That of Inachus. Keep watch and ward
Lest heedlessness bring death: full oft, I ween,
Friend hath slain friend, not knowing whom he slew.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Go at his side, attendants,--he saith well.
On to the city's consecrated shrines!
Nor be of many words to those ye meet,
The while this suppliant voyager ye lead.
[_Exit_ DANAUS _with attendants_.
CHORUS
Let him go forward, thy command obeying.
But me how biddest, how assurest thou?
THE KING OF ARGOS
Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow's sign.
And victims manifold to many gods,
Alone can cure. Right glad I were to shun
This strife, and am more fain of ignorance
Than of the wisdom of a woe endured.
The gods send better than my soul foretells!
CHORUS
Of many cries for mercy, hear the end.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Say on, then, for it shall not 'scape mine ear.
CHORUS
Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Even so; such things beseem a woman's wear.
CHORUS
Know, then, with these a fair device there is--
THE KING OF ARGOS
Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell?
CHORUS
Unless to us thou givest pledge secure--
THE KING OF ARGOS
What can thy girdles' craft achieve for thee?
CHORUS
Strange votive tablets shall these statues deck.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Mysterious thy resolve--avow it clear.
CHORUS
Swiftly to hang me on these sculptured gods!
THE KING OF ARGOS
Thy word is as a lash to urge my heart.
CHORUS
Thou seest truth, for I have cleared thine eye
THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, and woes manifold, invincible,
A crowd of ills, sweep on me torrent-like.
My bark goes forth upon a sea of troubles
Unfathomed, ill to traverse, harbourless.
For if my deed shall match not your demand,
Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane
Your death's pollution leaves unto this land.
Yet if against your kin, Aegyptus' race,
Before our gates I front the doom of war,
Will not the city's loss be sore? Shall men
For women's sake incarnadine the ground?
But yet the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord
I needs must fear: most awful unto man
The terror of his anger. Thou, old man,
The father of these maidens, gather up
Within your arms these wands of suppliance,
And lay them at the altars manifold
Of all our country's gods, that all the town
Know, by this sign, that ye come here to sue.
Nor, in thy haste, do thou say aught of me.
Swift is this folk to censure those who rule;
But, if they see these signs of suppliance,
It well may chance that each will pity you,
And loathe the young men's violent pursuit;
And thus a fairer favour you may find:
For, to the helpless, each man's heart is kind.
DANAUS
To us, beyond gifts manifold it is
To find a champion thus compassionate;
Yet send with me attendants, of thy folk,
Rightly to guide me, that I duly find
Each altar of your city's gods that stands
Before the fane, each dedicated shrine;
And that in safety through the city's ways
I may pass onwards: all unlike to yours
The outward semblance that I wear--the race
that Nilus rears is all dissimilar
That of Inachus. Keep watch and ward
Lest heedlessness bring death: full oft, I ween,
Friend hath slain friend, not knowing whom he slew.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Go at his side, attendants,--he saith well.
On to the city's consecrated shrines!
Nor be of many words to those ye meet,
The while this suppliant voyager ye lead.
[_Exit_ DANAUS _with attendants_.
CHORUS
Let him go forward, thy command obeying.
But me how biddest, how assurest thou?
THE KING OF ARGOS
Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow's sign.
