The gods send better than my soul
foretells!
Aeschylus
CHORUS
Zeus, lord of kinship, rules at will
The swaying balance, and surveys
Evil and good; to men of ill
Gives evil, and to good men praise.
And thou--since true those scales do sway--
Shall thou from justice shrink away?
THE KING OF ARGOS
A deep, a saving counsel here there needs--
An eye that like a diver to the depth
Of dark perplexity can pass and see,
Undizzied, unconfused. First must we care
That to the State and to ourselves this thing
Shall bring no ruin; next, that wrangling hands
Shall grasp you not as prey, nor we ourselves
Betray you thus embracing sacred shrines,
Nor make the avenging all-destroying god,
Who not in hell itself sets dead men free,
A grievous inmate, an abiding bane. --
Spake I not right, of saving counsel's need?
CHORUS
Yea, counsel take and stand to aid
At Justice' side and mine.
Betray not me, the timorous maid
Whom far beyond the brine
A godless violence cast forth forlorn.
O King, wilt thou behold--
Lord of this land, wilt thou behold me torn
From altars manifold?
Bethink thee of the young men's wrath and lust,
Hold off their evil pride;
Steel not thyself to see the suppliant thrust
From hallowed statues' side,
Haled by the frontlet on my forehead bound,
As steeds are led, and drawn
By hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound
My vesture's fringed lawn.
Know thou that whether for Aegyptus' race
Thou dost their wish fulfil,
Or for the gods and for each holy place--
Be thy choice good or ill,
Blow is with blow requited, grace with grace
Such is Zeus' righteous will.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, I have pondered: from the sea of doubt
Here drives at length the bark of thought ashore;
Landward with screw and windlass haled, and firm,
Clamped to her props, she lies. The need is stern;
With men or gods a mighty strife we strive
Perforce, and either hap in grief concludes.
For, if a house be sacked, new wealth for old
Not hard it is to win--if Zeus the lord
Of treasure favour--more than quits the loss,
Enough to pile the store of wealth full high;
Or if a tongue shoot forth untimely speech,
Bitter and strong to goad a man to wrath,
Soft words there be to soothe that wrath away:
But what device shall make the war of kin
Bloodless? 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?
