* A Distributed Proofreaders Canada Ebook * This ebook is made available at no cost and with very few restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make a change in the ebook (other than alteration for different display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of the ebook. If either of these conditions applies, please check with an FP administrator before proceeding. This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada, check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE. Title: Ion Author: Euripides (ca. 480-406 B.C.) Translator: Murray, George Gilbert Aimé (1866-1957) Date of first publication [this translation]: 1954 Date of first performance [original play]: ca. 413 B.C. Edition used as base for this ebook: London: George Allen & Unwin; New York: Oxford University Press, 1954 Date first posted: 13 February 2011 Date last updated: 17 June 2014 Faded Page ebook#20110226 This ebook was produced by: Barbara Watson, James Wright & the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net ION _Translated by Gilbert Murray_ AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON (_17th Thousand_) THE CHOEPHOROE THE EUMENIDES THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN (SUPPLICES) PROMETHEUS BOUND THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES THE PERSIANS ARISTOPHANES THE FROGS (_24th Thousand_) THE BIRDS EURIPIDES ALCESTIS (_24th Thousand_) ELECTRA (_50th Thousand_) HIPPOLYTUS (_38th Thousand_) IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS (_32nd Thousand_) MEDEA (_33rd Thousand_) RHESUS BACCHÆ (_31st Thousand_) TROJAN WOMEN (_49th Thousand_) MENANDER THE ARBITRATION THE RAPE OF THE LOCKS SOPHOCLES OEDIPUS, KING OF THEBES (_24th Thousand_) ANTIGONE THE WIFE OF HERACLES OEDIPUS AT COLONUS THE ORESTEIA (collected edition) THE COMPLETE PLAYS OF AESCHYLUS EURIPIDES ION Translated into English rhyming verse with explanatory notes by GILBERT MURRAY O.M. _Formerly Regius Professor of Greek in the University of Oxford_ LONDON - GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD. NEW YORK - OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS, INC. FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1954 _This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review as permitted under the Copyright Act 1911, no portion may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiry should be made to the publisher._ PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN _in 11 point Caslon Old Face_ BY UNWIN BROTHERS LIMITED WOKING AND LONDON ION The _Ion_ belongs to a particular class of tragedy in which the hero is the Son of a God and a mortal princess. The birth is concealed, the babe is cast out or hidden and in danger of death from a cruel king, but in the end is recognized as a son of god and established as founder of a New Kingdom and ancestor of a royal house. This was the plot of some eight recorded plays of Euripides and some four of Sophocles, besides various others. If we ask why this form of play should be so common the answer is plain. Tragedy was the ritual drama of Dionysus, performed on his festival in his theatre, under the presidency of his priest, by actors who were known as "the Artists of Dionysus." The name Dionysus means "Zeus-Young" or "Zeus-Son," and the subject of the Dithyramb from which tragedy is derived, is described by Plato as a "birth of Dionysus, I suppose" (_Laws 700B_). His festival celebrates the birth of the Young King or the New Life of the earth, who brings food and fertility to man and beast after the barren winter. The general history is outlined in Hesiod's three generations of kings, each superseded by his son, and is made explicit in one of the ancient Orphic fragments where Zeus introduces Dionysus to the gods of the Cosmos and warns them "This is your King." We children of an industrial age find it hard to understand the terrible anxiety with which men of the agricultural or merely fruit-gathering ages met the awful recurrent danger of a foodless earth, and the eager longing with which they looked for the first sign of spring, the blessed New King or Saviour, without whose coming they would die. It forms, as is well known, the very centre of ancient Mediterranean religion. It is curious that none of the other plays of this class is preserved in complete form; it may be that the _Ion_ was selected as the best representative of a well-known type which did not need to be repeated. But what is more remarkable is that when formal tragedy came to an end this dramatic celebration of a symbolic "Birth of Dionysus" survived. It was obviously felt to be an essential element in the Dionysiac ritual, and it forms the regular and perhaps universal subject of the plays of the New Comedy. In those comedies, amid all their ingenious variations, interest always centres on a seduced mother, an exposed foundling baby, and a final triumphant recognition of the outcast, who at last comes into his own. The chief difference from a "tragedy" like the _Ion_ is that the father is not a god but an erring mortal. He can only raise the outcast slave-child to his own rank of free citizen. On the other hand, being human, he can,--and in Menander certainly does--show a great deal more human feeling and self-reproach than can ever be expected of a god. The plot is really better suited to comedy. In tragedy the god cuts too bad a figure. Of course in the simple Year-Myth that lies behind the story-telling there is nothing to trouble the mind of a Greek audience. If the Sky or Sun impregnates the Earth with his rain or pierces her body with his lightning there is no case for moral criticism. Even when Sky and Earth are given personal names like Ouranos and Gaia, or perhaps like Zeus and Semelê, there is not much difference of feeling. But when the story becomes more individual and dramatic, as on the stage it must, when we find that a god has ravished a mortal maiden, and the maiden, to save her own life and that of the child has exposed the infant, we cannot but feel that the maiden has been treated very badly, and the god, even if one does not quite apply human standards to gods, comes near to being the villain of the piece. Hence we find that the bald, hard myth is sometimes made in various ways more sympathetic. It may become a romantic love-story; the princess Tyro fell in love with the River God Enipeus, the Muse who was mother to Rhesus was beloved by the River Strymon and returned his love. Of course they had their troubles, but who can blame them? But when it comes to the persecution of Io by Zeus, Prometheus can outspokenly denounce the god for his brutal lust and cruelty (Aesch. Prom. 435-740). In another account of the birth of Heracles, too, the desire to give that superlative hero a greater father than his mother's husband, Amphitryon, led to the unfortunate suggestion that it was really Zeus disguised as Amphitryon who deceived Alcmena. But that is obviously going too far. All three characters become a butt for ribald laughter. At times, on the other hand, and especially as Plutarch[1] tells us, in Egyptian myths, the whole divine birth is a virgin birth. In the case of Io, for instance, it is explained that the birth was caused by the laying on of the divine hand; in that of Danae it was by the golden sunlight. There was no lust, and the god's real purpose was the birth of a great saviour of mankind (Aesch: Supp. 524-600). In the _Ion_ however, no excuses or re-shapings are made. Euripides just takes for his subject an existing traditional myth and treats it as he would treat a story of real life. It is his usual method. He represents the human characters as real people with real human feelings. He makes us sympathize with them and understand them. About the gods he takes little trouble. He leaves Apollo passionately condemned and rather perfunctorily defended. We cannot but sympathize with Ion's last, or almost last, words: Is the god true, or he and all his art Falsehood? and with his resolve not to be content with so cheap an answer as his mother here suggests and Athena afterwards expounds. But it would be most disproportionate to suggest that the discrediting of Apollo is the main purpose of the play. The fact is that these "gods of the poets" were not taken very seriously by a fifth century Athenian audience. Partly they belong to an imaginary world, and often seem not much more solid than Oberon and Titania. Partly, no doubt, there is a real clash between the idea of gods as personifications of natural forces and that which makes them divine persons who see what man cannot see and will satisfy our longing for an ultimate correction of the manifold injustices of the world. As for the _Ion_ itself, if we can once swallow--that is the right word--the myth on which it is based, it is a singularly skilful and charming play, a true Dionysiac tragedy in its outward form, but veering towards serious comedy in its happy ending, in the variety and tenderness of its effects and in the intimacy of its long conversations. One character, indeed, the rude soldier Xuthus, comes near to being a stock figure of the _comédie rosse_, the husband who is made to think that his wife's irregular offspring is his own, who imagines he is hoodwinking others by telling them the story with which they are hoodwinking him, and who, by general agreement at the end of the play is never to be undeceived. There is also a touch of satire in Ion's account of the turmoil of political life at Athens as contrasted with the peace and innocence of his own life at Delphi, in which no ill-omened word may be spoken. But the chief beauty of the play, I think, comes out in the long scene of mutual attraction between the mother and son, in the desperate confession of Creusa and her solemn curse upon the false and heartless god, and perhaps most of all in the scene between the despairing princess and the faithful Old Retainer, with his tender and disastrous fidelity. It is curious to reflect that this play is the work of the same author as the _Trojan Women_ and the _Bacchae_. In those tragedies the mystery of life or of human suffering cried out to be illuminated by the poet's lyrical inspiration. Those in fact were great lyrical poems, this is almost a prose play of incident and character. [Footnote 1: _Numa 4, Quast. Conv. viii, i._] CHARACTERS _in order of Appearance_ The God HERMES ION, Temple Servant of Apollo at Delphi CHORUS, Handmaids of CREUSA CREUSA, daughter of Erechtheus, King of Athens XUTHUS, an Achaean of Aeolid race, married to CREUSA AN OLD RETAINER, devoted slave to CREUSA A MESSENGER, Servant of CREUSA THE PYTHIA, or Inspired Prophetess of Delphi The Goddess ATHENA ION [1-18] _Scene: the front of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. The God HERMES discovered._ HERMES Atlas, whose brazen shoulders hold on high The gods' primaeval home, the vaulted sky, Begat, by his divine and only love, Maia, who bore to the All-Father Jove Me, Hermes, courier to the gods. And, lo, Today I am come to Delphi, whence doth flow From Phoebus, throned above Earth's midmost heart, Music eternal, with prophetic art Revealing that which Is or Is To Be. There lives a City, proud in history, True-named from Pallas of the Spear of Gold, Where Phoebus once in mastering arms did hold Creusa, the king's daughter. By the hill Of virgin Pallas the god wrought his will, Where northward opening lies a cave they call In Athens the Long Rocks. The maid withal, Secret and unsuspected by her sire, Held her womb's burden--so the god's desire Guided--until her hour came and she bore Her child. Back to that cavern where of yore She had known the god she took him and, arrayed For death, left him to lie. A cradle made [19-45] To the ancient rule she laid with him, a round Casket, with golden serpents interwound. Twas thus to Erichthonius, child of earth, Athena gave, as guardians of his birth, Two serpents, and the Aglaurid maidens set To watch his cradle; the rule lingers yet In Athens, round their cradled young to fold Two golden snakes. All that she had of gold Or maiden treasures then Creusa gave, Weeping, to deck that infant to the grave. Meantime my brother Phoebus asked of me A brother's service; "Prithee go," said he, "To Athens and the earth-born race who dwell, Unchanging, round our sister's citadel-- Thou know'st the place--there, brother, seek and save A babe new-born, laid secret in a cave. Bring him, his cradle and his tokens, all, To Delphi, and beside my temple wall, Just at the entrance, leave him. All beside-- For, know, the child is mine--I will provide." I did my brother's will. I bore away The babe with all his tokens and array To Pytho, and left the casket with its lid Uplifted, that his face might not be hid. The sun's great wheel just then across the sky Was mounting, and the Priestess, passing by Toward the prophetic chamber, chanced to see An infant by the doors. Amazed was she, That any damsel in god's house should dare Cast down the secret fruit her travail bare, [46-68] And first would fain have barred it from the door; Then pity stayed her from such harshness, nor Would Phoebus see his child so cast away. She took the babe, and reared it to this day, Not dreaming that 'twas Phoebus who begot That life, nor of his mother knowing aught; Nor does the child aught of his parents know. Playing amid the altars, to and fro, His childhood passed, then, as to man he grew, The Delphians made him treasure-guard and true Steward of all, and in the sanctuaries Of Phoebus still an honoured life is his. Meantime Creusa, nurse of this young life, As changing fortunes fell, was given as wife To Xuthus. For in time there chanced to be Twixt Athens and the Chalcodontidae, Who hold Euboea's isle, an angry swell Of war, wherein, since Xuthus shared so well The spear's long toils and eke the victories, Creusa's hand was granted as his prize, A stranger he, of Zeus-born Aeolus Begot, by race Achaean. Wedded thus For long years Xuthus and Creusa stayed Childless. And that is why at last they have made Their pilgrim way to Apollo's oracle, To ask god for a child. Aye, Loxias well Guideth the car of fortune. He hath not, As men might fancy, his own child forgot. [69-91] He means, when Xuthus enters the great hall To give this boy to him and say withal He is truly Xuthus' child. So shall the son Return to his own mother, and be known As hers. So shall Apollo's loves in night Be hidden, but the boy possess his right. A famous name for him hath Phoebus planned, Ion, first founder of the Ionian land. But there he comes, out from the temple door, The son of the great god, to sweep the floor With broom of laurel! I will wait to see, Hid in this myrtle grove, how Fate's decree Works for this strippling, Ion; thus I claim First of the gods to have spoke his destined name. [_Exit_ HERMES. _Enter_ ION _from inside the Temple with a group of Temple Attendants_. ION Lo, where the Sun his chariot bright Above the rim of earth hath driven, And star by star creeps to the night For refuge from the fire of heaven. Up on Parnassus' peaks untrod It flashes, and their answering ray Hails for mankind the circling day, And fragrant is the dome of God, As wreaths of myrrh their smoke entwine. Now is the Virgin of the Shrine [92-111] Mounting in song her mystic throne Three-pillared, song that shall impart To Hellas whatso lore unknown Phoebus hath whispered to her heart. Go, Delphians, servants of our god, First to Castalia's fount, and lave Your bodies in her silvery wave; Then only may his floor be trod. Your lips let holy silence bless: And teach the pilgrim hosts who seek God's oracle, no word to speak, Saving of joy and holiness. [_The Attendants disperse_; ION _proceeds with his sweeping and sprinkling, and then driving off the Birds_. I in the service undefiled Wherein I have laboured from a child, With hallowed wreaths and laurel boughs Will clean the entrance ways, and pour Libation to make sweet the floor Of Lord Apollo's House, And turn to flight those flocking wings Of birds who soil our offerings. Motherless and fatherless, This House of God I serve and bless, Which nursed me in my helplessness. [112-143] To work, thou gentle broom of bay Who com'st our altar floor to keep! Gardens immortal gave thee birth, Where, issuing from the heart of earth, A stream doth leap, To wash the myrtle and the bay, Wherewith alway from dawn of day, I sweep, I sweep. Paian, O Healer mine, Thou Leto's Son divine, All life, all joy, be thine! O happy slavery! 'Tis well, Lord Phoebus, at thy door to dwell And bow before thine oracle. No task to mortal man I ply Of service, but to One on high And deathless, nor can I think of shame In toil that bears so great a name. The hand that feedeth me I bless. And that which gives me happiness I name my father: here is He, Father and life-giver to me, Lord Phoebus in his sanctuary. Paian, O Healer mine, Thou Leto's Son divine, All life, all joy, be thine! [144-173] Lo, from the laurel boughs I turn; I take me to my golden urn, And sprinkle earth-born waters, drawn From eddies deep of Castaly; Pure is my body in the dawn, And holy must that water be. Thus serving Phoebus may I cease Never, or but in blessed peace! Ha! There the birds come flocking down From old Parnassus, where they haunt. Ah, perch not on the cornice crown Nor near the golden house! Avaunt, Thou herald high of Zeus, begone! Wilt taste again my arrow's bite, Great eagle, thou whose taloned might Surpasseth all? . . . And there, a swan! Hovering above the altar. Go! Away, white wings and crimson feet! Small help will be that music sweet Meeting the clang of Phoebus' bow. Turn, turn thy wing, and distant make Thy landing on the Delian Lake. Obey, or must a blood-stain wrong Thy sweet-voiced ecstacy of song? What strange fowl thou, that hoverest So near? Dost think to build below Our eaves thy children's grassy nest? Ah, fear the music of my bow! [174-192] Off to Alpheios' eddying flood To nurse them, or the Isthmian wood! Not to be fouled by thee or thine Are votive gifts and walls divine. To kill you I have not the heart, You prophets, who to man commend The signs of God. And yet my part Is fixed, His Temple to defend. His am I, and shall never be False to the hand that feedeth me. [ION _goes back into the Temple_. _Enter the_ CHORUS _of handmaids visiting the Temple and studying with excitement the scenes on the frieze, Heracles' Labours, Bellerophon slaying the Chimêra, and the War of the Gods and Giants_. LEADER Not only Athens, our home divine, Hath temples then, with an ordered line Of pillars, and streets with many a sign To guide through the Holy Places! This House of Loxias Leto-born With eyelid shining accosts the morn And light from its twofold faces. VARIOUS MAIDENS [_in conversation_: --Ah, look this way; Look! 'Tis the Snake of Lerna, shorn Of her heads by a golden hook. 'Tis He, the Alcmêna-born! [193-215] --Here, darling, turn thine eyes. --I see.--And to help him hies, With a fire-brand in his hold . . . Is it he of whom they told Those stories beside my loom? Armed Iolaüs, long in use To share alway with the Son of Zeus The Labours of his doom? --Ah, and look yonder too. Yonder, a wondrous deed; 'Tis one on a wingèd steed Quelling that awful thing Three-formed, fire-vomiting. --All round I turn my view. --See ye the wild affray In the Giants' stony lair? --Nay, friends, I look this way. --Enkelados! Seest him there? Seest thou against him wield Her gorgon-bordered shield Some goddess . . . ?--I see. I see! Pallas, my own! 'Tis she. --And there! The fiery thunder-rod Terrific in the hand of God, Smiting afar it flies! And yonder! 'Tis some giant dire In rage that he consumes with fire. [216-224] --I see. 'Tis Mimas!--There again Another Earth-child lieth slain, Quelled by the peaceful ivy-rod Of mystic Dionyse. LEADER [_addressing_ ION, _as he returns from the Temple_. Thou by the portal, thee I call! Is it permitted that we go Beyond the threshold: we are all Bare-footed? ION Nay, stranger maids, it may not be. LEADER May we even so Have speech with thee, and seek to learn . . . ION What is it ye would know or see? LEADER Doth Phoebus' precinct here inurn Truly the Earth's mid-navel stone? ION Surely 'tis here, with garlands tied, And gorgon heads on either side. LEADER [225-234] Aye, far that tale hath flown. ION If in the forecourt ye have slain The offering due, and now would fain Put your own questions to the god, Pass to the sanctuary within. But without sacrifice of blood The Holy Place ye may not win. LEADER I understand. Nowise Would we transgress the rule. That which is here in full Measure will feast our eyes. ION 'Tis lawful; feast your eyes on all. LEADER O'er all Apollo's field to roam My mistress sets me free. ION And what great house doth hold you thrall? LEADER [235-254] Neighbour to Pallas is the home Of her whose thralls we be. But see who comes. 'Tis she. [_Enter slowly_ CREUSA; _she stands still, gazing at the Temple with tears in her eyes_. ION _cannot take his eyes from her_. ION [_to himself_ What nobleness! Thy bearing is a sign, Thou unknown woman, of a lordly line. How oft in human kind one glance can trace By look and bearing a man's noble race. Ha! Strange! She gazes at the holy fane Of Loxias; then shuts her eyes again, And all that noble cheek is wet with tears. Lady, what thoughts have touched thee, or what fears? Here, at the god's pure Temple, which to see Makes all men glad, thou weepest silently. CREUSA Fair youth, I count it no discourteous thing To wonder at these tears and whence they spring. 'Tis that, on seeing Apollo's dwelling-place, My mind fled off to my own home, to trace Lines of a far-off wrong . . . Ah, women still Are born to suffer, gods to work their will! How else? What help is there, when those who do The wrong that slays us are our judges too? ION [255-266] What dark grief, lady, lies on thee so sore? CREUSA 'Tis naught, I have shot my arrow, and no more Will speak of it. Give thou no thought thereto. ION Who art thou, and whence journeying? Would I knew Thy land, and how 'tis meet to speak thy name. CREUSA Creusa, King Erechtheus' child. I claim As birthplace the Athenian citadel. ION So noble a city, and so memorable A lineage! Truly, high is thy estate. CREUSA So far, no further, I am fortunate. ION Is it true, in God's name, as the legends go . . . CREUSA What legends, youth? What is it thou wouldst know? ION [267-275] Thy father's primal father sprang from earth? CREUSA Small help to me is Erichthonius' birth. ION Athena raised him from the furrowed sod? CREUSA With virgin hands. She knew no motherhood. ION And gave him, by the pictures I have seen . . . CREUSA To Cecrops' daughters to keep safe, unseen. ION And they, I have heard, the veiling coffer broke? CREUSA And died therefor. Their life-blood stained the rock. ION Marvellous! Is this, then, true or just vain fantasy? CREUSA [276-284] What? Ask thy fill. No business presseth me. ION Thy sire, Erechtheus, his own daughters slew? CREUSA In sacrifice to save the land; 'tis true. ION How came it thou wast slain not with the rest? CREUSA I was a babe, then, at my mother's breast. ION And him the earth yawned and swallowed? Can it be? CREUSA He sank where struck the trident of the sea . . . [_A pause_ ION "The Long Rocks" is a place there, is it not? CREUSA Why ask me that? . . . It stirs a sleeping thought. ION [285-293] The Pythian and his fires fill it with grace. CREUSA Grace?--Would to god I had never seen the place. ION Why shrinkest thou from what our god holds dear? CREUSA 'Tis naught . . . I know a vile deed plotted there. ION What lord of Athens, lady, won thy hand? CREUSA None. 'Twas one summoned from an alien land. ION Alien? Then surely of some royal line. CREUSA Xuthus, an Aeolid of race divine. ION How could an alien a bride so grand? CREUSA [294-302] Euboea's name you know, our neighbour land? . . . ION The lapping wave, they say, all round it runs. CREUSA That isle he conquered, leagued with Athens' sons. ION A friend in war, who thus became thy lord? CREUSA Even so; my dowry was his spear's reward. ION Is it with him thou travellest, or alone? CREUSA With him. But to Trophonius now he is gone. ION To see the cave, or seek the oracle? CREUSA To ask one question, there and here as well. ION [303-311] 'Tis fruits of the earth, or children, brings thee here? CREUSA We are childless still, though married many a year. ION Hast ne'er borne child, ne'er known a mother's stress? CREUSA Well Phoebus knows my utter childlessness. ION Poor lady! 'Mid all thy fortune this is misery. CREUSA But who art thou? Proud must thy mother be. ION Apollo's slave I am called--and rightly called. CREUSA A city's gift? Or by some master sold? ION They call me His; no more is known of me. CREUSA [312-321] Poor boy! Then I in turn must pity thee. ION No mother, nor yet father, have I known. CREUSA Thou dwellest here, with no place of thine own? ION All God's house; sleeping where sleep falls on me. CREUSA Thou camest in boyhood here, or infancy? ION I was a babe, they say who claim to know. CREUSA Some woman suckled you, who found you so? ION I knew never the breast. She picked me up. CREUSA Who, poor child? . . . Others then have drunk my cup! ION The Prophetess. My only mother she. CREUSA [322-330] And on to manhood, who supported thee? ION The altars feed me, and visitors who pass. CREUSA Thy mother has suffered sore, whoe'er she was. ION Some woman's wrong produced me, I should guess. CREUSA Thou hast some wealth? this is no beggar's dress. ION Thralls to the God, his livery we wear. CREUSA Didst never seek to know . . . didst never care? ION Lady, how can I seek? I have no clue. CREUSA Alas! Much the same thing befell a girl I knew. ION [331-340] Who? She might help me. That were happiness. CREUSA 'Tis for her sake I have come here . . . husbandless. ION What is thy wish? For service, count on me. CREUSA To ask the God one question . . . secretly. ION Tell me. I will prepare the oracle. CREUSA Her tale . . . No; 'tis a thing I cannot tell. ION A vain thing, shame! Thou wilt see no fruit thereof. CREUSA She says with Phoebus she was joined . . . in love. ION With the God! She, a woman! Speak it not. CREUSA And bore a secret child, by him begot. ION [341-350] Impossible! . . . 'Tis some man's foul deed she hides. CREUSA By her tale . . . she hath had more wrong besides. ION How . . . if 'tis true that with a God she lay? CREUSA The babe she bore she hid and put away. ION Exposed? And that child, is he living still? CREUSA Who knows? That I must ask the oracle. ION If not alive, how came it by its death? CREUSA Poor baby, torn by wild beasts, so she saith. ION Wild beasts? What reason had she for that thought? CREUSA She searched where he had lain and found him not. ION [351-360] Were any marks of blood about the place? CREUSA No. She searched well, she says, but found no trace. ION Since he thus vanished, how long would it be? CREUSA If living, he would be a lad like thee. ION The god has wronged her, left her to her pain! CREUSA The woman never has borne child again. ION Did the god take and rear him as his own? CREUSA [_Indignantly_ Steal what was hers and make it his alone? ION How the tale chimes with my own history! CREUSA For sure, some mother somewhere pines for thee. ION [361-372] That grief was half forgotten; let it rest! CREUSA Forgive me.--What of my sad friend's request? ION One thing makes me despair of helping her. CREUSA In her whole life what is there but despair? ION Canst make him speak the thing he seeks to hide? CREUSA Shall Truth in Truth's own temple be denied? ION Question him not. Great shame to him it were. CREUSA His be the shame! 'Tis agony to her. ION No man on earth would ask that question. No; 'Twould be at his own altar-fire to show The god unrighteous. He would surely smite A questioner who so misused his right. [373-395] Forget thy quest, lady. 'Twould like me ill To use his oracle to thwart his will. And 'tis to that stark madness we should fall, Trying to force the god, in front of all, To show what most he hides, by offerings Of slaughtered sheep or signs of fluttering wings. Be sure, a gift that gods unwilling give Itself unwilling comes, and will not live. That only blesseth which is meant to bless. LEADER Man has his multitudes, and grief no less Her multitudinous shapes; but who shall find One single cloudless life in all mankind? CREUSA Thou god, unrighteous art thou still today As erstwhile to that woman far away Whose words are here! Thy son thou couldst have saved; And wouldst not; nor the knowledge that she craved Share with his mother, that if dead she might Build him some tomb, pay him some funeral rite. If living . . . But no more! God will not let Me know the thing I crave. I must forget. Fair youth, I see mine honoured lord, who there Approacheth from Trophonius' caverned lair. Prithee, no word of this our colloquy. 'Twould shame me thus to have my secret plea [395-413] Discovered; and the matter might be wrought Further, to issues other than I thought. Ah, hard to tread are woman's ways with men; The true confounded with the false, and then All hated! We are born but to be cursed. [_Enter_ XUTHUS. _He goes straight to the entrance of the shrine._ CREUSA, _much shaken, has time to recover_. XUTHUS The god must have my salutation first. All hail, Lord! (_Returning_) And thou, too, wife. Do I see That my late coming has affrighted thee? CREUSA Not so. It chimed full closely with my thought. What answer from Trophonius hast thou brought Whereby our mating may not fruitless fall? XUTHUS The word of Phoebus he would not forestall, But this he said; that from this journey now I shall return not childless . . . no, nor thou! CREUSA O holy mother of Phoebus, blessed be This journey! . . . And for him, assuredly He knows the whole tale of us twain; Oh, may It change and turn even now a happier way. XUTHUS [414-432] It will.--Now, where is the god's minister? ION Outside, 'tis I. Within, 'twill be the care Of others round the tripod throned in state, High Delphians, by the god's lot designate. XUTHUS Enough. That gives me all I need to know. I had best go straight within. Already, so They tell me, there is held outside the doors A general sacrifice for visitors. At once, therefore, the day being favourable, I must seek answer from the oracle. Meantime, go thou, my wife, with fronds of bay, And in my name at all the altars pray That fruitful words may meet me from the throne. CREUSA I will, I will. (_Exit_ XUTHUS _into the Temple_) If Loxias will atone That wrong even now . . . he cannot be a friend In full, but I will take what God may send. [_Exit_ CREUSA _out to the Precinct_. ION What can the woman mean, her every word With secret cavil charged against our Lord? Loves she so much that friend for whom she pleads, Or is she holding back some tale that needs [432-452] Silence? . . . But why this fond anxiety About the strange princess? She is naught to me . . . Where are my golden ewers? I must away And fill the sprinklers for the holy spray. But Phoebus, what possessed him? Aye, and who Can chide him? Force a maiden . . . can he do Such deeds? And then forsake her? Propagate A child unknown and leave him to his fate! No, no! Ye that have power, seek to pursue Goodness. If mortal man does wrong, 'tis you, The gods, who rightly punish him. Shall they Who wrote the laws their own laws disobey? If ever--well I know it could not be; I play with fancy--if, in equity, Thou and Poseidon, aye, and Zeus above Paid forfeit for your deeds of lawless love, The fines would soon strip all your temples bare. Unrighteous, only for your joys ye care, Not for wise thought! Blame not weak men who stray In gods' footsteps. Blame them who showed the way. [_Exit_ CHORUS [_They pray Athena and Artemis, the virgin goddesses, to help in blessing the House of Erechtheus with children._ Thou who hast never known [_Str._ Mother nor child nor travail, Thou our own Athena, by Promethean fire Flashed from the brain of Zeus, thy sire, [452-487] Thou conquering Thought, whose name is blest Down from Olympus' golden crest Come to the Pythian Way, whereon, 'Mid dancers round the tripod throne, A voice from Earth's mid Altar tells The God's unfailing oracles. Thou too be with her, child of bliss, Letoan daughter, Artemis; Ye twain divine and virgins twain, Plead, for ye shall not plead in vain, With sister voices, and implore That by your brother's sovereign hest The old House of Erechtheus evermore With child on child be blest. Where shall man find of bliss [_Antistr._ A fount that fails not ever, like to this; An old dark house lit up in truth With children's beauty, children's youth, Who shall to lives unborn uphold The steadfast heritage of old. A father's joy when skies are clear, Comfort when clouds about him stand, A strong arm and a faithful spear When foes surround the fatherland. Oh, precious above riches rare Or palaces of royal art I hold the toil and tender care Of children, children true of heart. [488-511] In barren life there is no health; I praise not the delights thereof. Poor let me be, ye gods, in land and wealth, But rich in a child's love. O haunts of Pan, O heights that sleep [_Epode._ Above the Long Rocks' caverned steep, Where ghostlike on the grassy floor The Aglaurid sisters by the door Of Pallas wind and wave: They dance to music echoing And failing from an unknown spring, Where thou, O Pan, dost pipe and sing Deep in thy sunless cave. And there a maid, alone, forlorn, By Phoebus mastered, bore a child . . . Alas, strange tale of lust and scorn! . . . And did she cast him to the wild, By dogs and vultures to be torn! Ah me, 'twas ever so; Never in histories of old, Or tales that round our loom were told, A child gotten of god hath borne To woman aught but woe. [_Enter_ ION. ION Ye handmaids, keep ye still your watch about the altars, where they burn Their incense to the god? Ye wait, methinks, your mistress's return. [512-520] But what of Xuthus? Hath he left the tripod and the holy place? Or waits he still within to seek the god's word on his childlessness? LEADER He is still within, fair youth. No sign as yet of his return we see. But hark! A noise of opening doors; 'tis someone coming. Aye, 'tis he. [_Enter_ XUTHUS _wildly excited_. XUTHUS Bless you, my child! Be that my word of hail, to greet you as is due. ION [_Coldly._ 'Tis a good word, but pray be still. Tis best so, both for me and you. XUTHUS Oh, let me kiss your hand and fold your body close in my embrace. ION Man, are you sane? Or struck by some strange frenzy from the holy place? XUTHUS [521-527] Most sane. I see the thing I love and will not let it pass away. ION Keep further back! Do not derange these wreaths that are the god's array. XUTHUS Clasp you I will! No robbery this, my own that I had lost I claim. ION I give you warning, let me go! Or will you test this arrow's aim? XUTHUS Why do you seek to shun me? Try to know your best-beloved, your own! ION I love not to teach manners to a madman, alien and unknown. XUTHUS Then kill me; lay me on my pyre! Your father's murderer you will be. ION [528-532] How can you be my father? Do you seek to make a jest of me? XUTHUS Not so; the tale I have to tell will like a flowing river run. ION What are you trying to say? XUTHUS I am your father, boy, and you my son. ION Who says this? XUTHUS Loxias; he gave you shelter, knowing you were mine. ION Who vouches for your tale? XUTHUS Myself; I heard, I saw, his word and sign. ION [533-537] Some riddling word that you misread! XUTHUS You think I cannot hear aright? ION What were Apollo's actual words? XUTHUS That he who first should meet my sight . . . ION Who first should meet you--how and when? XUTHUS Now, as I issue from the shrine. ION What did he say of him? XUTHUS That man would be my son, he told me, mine. ION Your own by birth, or by his gift? XUTHUS [537-541] His gift, yes; but by me begot. ION There was no other man you met before me? XUTHUS No, child; there was not. ION How can such things have come about? XUTHUS It leaves you wondering; me as well. ION Enough.--My mother, who was she who gave me birth? XUTHUS I cannot tell. ION And Phoebus never said? XUTHUS Delight so filled me that I asked no more. ION [542-546] Am I some fruit of earth? XUTHUS There springs no human fruit from that hard floor. ION Then how can I be yours? XUTHUS My child, I know not, but the God must know. ION Another question we must raise and leave that. XUTHUS Yes, child, better so. ION Love outside wedlock have you known? XUTHUS Yes, in the lawlessness of youth. ION Before you wedded this princess? XUTHUS [546-550] Oh, never afterwards, in truth. ION Can that, then, be the time that you begat me? XUTHUS Well, the times would fit. ION And then I came to Delphi; how was that? XUTHUS I cannot fathom it. ION Such a long journey from your land. XUTHUS I cannot make it out at all. ION But stay; have you been here before? XUTHUS Once, for a Bacchic Festival. ION [551-555] You stayed with some appointed host? XUTHUS Yes, and some Delphian girls were there. ION He took you to their orgies? XUTHUS Yes; Maenads, possessed of god they were. ION You kept your head? or did the wine . . . XUTHUS I yielded to the Bacchic trance. ION Ah, that is where my life began. XUTHUS Revealed now by the wheel of Chance. ION How came I to this sacred place? XUTHUS [555-559] Perchance the girl exposed you here. ION Slave-birth at least I have escaped! XUTHUS Now greet your father. All is clear. ION Surely. I must not doubt the god. XUTHUS Against all reason that would be. ION And what more can I ask of fate . . . XUTHUS You see now as you ought to see. ION Than to be born to one in line from Zeus? XUTHUS And that fate brings to you! ION [_after hesitation_ [560-568] Father; I greet thee by that name. XUTHUS Oh, truest name, and happiest! ION And blessed be this day that now is with us! XUTHUS It has made me blest. ION [_A pause: then with longing._ Mother! Dear Mother! Can it be that some day I shall see you too Before me? More than ever yet, where'er you are, I long for you. And now it may be, you are dead. Then there is nothing I can do. [ION _makes a gesture of despair and remains sad_. LEADER The fortunes of the House are as mine own. Yet, would my mistress were not thus alone Childless--and through her, old Erechtheus' line! XUTHUS [569-590] My son, most featly did the god design Thy finding. I have thee, and thou hast won The ties of home and love, who erst had none. But that upleaping of thy heart: I vow I understand. I feel it even as thou. Thou cravest for thy mother; I too would see What manner of woman bore this child to me . . . But that can wait. In due time we may well Find her. But first, now, bid a long farewell To the god's precinct and this vagabond Service; come forth, one-hearted with thy fond Father, to Athens. Think what waits thee there; A father's royal sceptre and a share In wealth abundant. Here thou art forlorn, Poor, fatherless; there rich and nobly born. Art silent? Thine eye to earth cast down? Hast fallen to thought, So sudden sad, and our great joy forgot? To see thee flings on me a cloud of fear. ION Things wear not the same face, when looked at near, As at first sight, far off. Most truly I greet With joy this fortune that hath let me meet At last my Father . . . Yet, give ear to me Now, till I open all my mind to thee. Athens! A folk born of the soil, not brought From other lands at all, so I am taught, [591-614] Has made that city. Think; should I not bear A twofold stain, to come intruding there, My father alien and myself base-born? How should I bear that twofold weight of scorn? If with that shame I rest, ambitionless, What shall I be? A blank, a nothingness-- Yet, if among the princes of the state I claim to sit, shall I not earn much hate Of the weaker folk? All power breeds jealousy. Besides, many good men, who well might be Wise leaders, hold their peace and seek no rule Nor office; such as they would call me fool And vain, lacking the wisdom to stand clear Of conflict in a city racked with fear. Others there are with famous names, who play Great parts in the land's guidance; will not they, The more I rise in power, the keenlier throw Their voice against me? Sure, 'tis always so; Those who rule cities, counted patriots great, Keep for their rivals their most lively hate. And then, at home, an alien in your fold, Forced on a childless woman, who of old Had in all fortunes a full share with thee, Which now is lost! Will she not bitterly Resent her loneliness? Will she not hate-- And with good reason--me, standing in state Close to thy throne and smiled on as thy son? Will every word not stab that heart, alone And childless? . . . And thyself, what choice for thee? Slight me and look to her? Or else give me [615-638] Preferment, and have all the house distraught . . . What deeds of blood, what poisonings, have been wrought By women on men who wronged them! But apart From that, father, I pity from my heart Thy wife, a childless wife, nearing old age. 'Tis all unmeet that one of heritage So noble by this wrong should be struck down. I know men count it great to wear a crown; No, 'tis a fair front, but the house within A place of pain. What king hath ever been At peace or happy, striving, amid fears And sidelong glances, to prolong his years Unmurdered? Nay, for joy in common things Give me the plain man's circuit, not the king's, Kings have no friends, save of the baser kind. They hate, from sick fear, those of nobler mind. "Gold," you say, "outweighs all; a king enjoys His riches." No; to start at every noise, Clutching my gold, is not the life for me. Better a low estate from troubles free. Think, Father, what good things were round me here. First, what men reckon beyond all things dear, Leisure; then no great turmoil; no base crowd To thrust me from my path. To have some loud Ill-bred man jostling one is hard to bear. Round me were pilgrims whom I led in prayer; [639-658] Not men with gloomy faces, but all glad. To those departing on their way I bade God-speed; the newcomers 'twas mine to greet, Fresh faces alway, which is alway sweet. Then, what all pray for, though some like it not, An innocent life, was here my natural lot In the god's service, both by law and by My natural bent. Revolving carefully All these things, better in this quiet shrine Is life to me than in that city of thine. Here let me live. Man's life can be as sweet Content with little as with pride replete. LEADER Oh, noble words, if but the bent thereof May help the peace of mind of her I love. XUTHUS Oh, cease such talk! Learn to be rich and great. Here where I found thee, son, I will instate Our joint life. First a banquet I will hold, Then pay the Birth Rite that was due of old. For thee, I now will treat thee as a guest Whom to my house I welcome with a feast And take with me to Athens. Thou shalt there Still be no kin, only a sightseer; I would not wound my wife, now left alone Childless, with this good fortune of my own. [659-675] Later, I will persuade her in thy hand To let my sceptre lie, ruling the land. And now, since first when from the shrine I came I looked on thee, ION I name thy name. So fortune wills it. Gather now a throng Of thine old comrades here; bring them along To a great feast of oxen slain. 'Twill be Thy farewell, ere thou leave this land with me. [_Turning to the Chorus: abruptly._ Ye thralls, of all this tale no word must fly Abroad: speak to your mistress and you die! [_Exit_ XUTHUS. ION Well, I will go. In this high fortune yet Is one thing lacking. If I am ne'er to get Nearer to her who bare me . . . there is naught In life to live for! To speak all my thought, Most would I pray it were a woman born In Athens were my mother. Then no scorn Were on me from her side, and speech were free. If in a true-bred land one alien be, Whate'er the laws may say, his tongue is still A slave's tongue. He can speak not what he will. [_Exit_ ION. CHORUS [676-699] [_Different members conversing._ --Tears I see, and murmuring [_Str._ Of grief, and sudden sobs that spring Unbidden, when my Queen shall know This tale--a child in secret born Her husband's heir, while she must go Childless, and her great house forlorn. --Alas, thou prophet Leto-born, How darkly doth thy music show Its meaning! He, thy fosterling, Whence comes he? from what woman's brood, Of alien rearing, alien blood, About thy temple wandering? --That oracle, it likes me not; Is there some guile, some hidden plot? What means it, that such chances here Together meet? 'Tis that I fear. The unknown youth, the tale unknown He tells; and something all his own He dares not utter! Mystery Or craft? Oh, craft, 'tis plain to see. --Friends, shall we go to her, and fall [_Antistr._ Before her, telling fearlessly How he who was her all in all, Whose every hope was as her own, Clings to his secret prize alone, [700-724] And she is left, with greying head, Unfriended and uncomforted? --The schemer! To an alien throne He hath mounted through her power alone, Curse him! and now will give his wife, No portion in his secret life. --I pray no god to his desire Give ear, nor bless his altar fire! Soon he shall know how far above All others 'tis my Queen I love. --And that strange feast, how will it run Today for that strange sire and son! --Ye ridges of Parnassus, ye [_Epode._ Who guard the crest, the rocky height, Where Bacchus in high revelry His torches tosseth, leaping light Amid the Maids of Mystery, His dancers in the deep midnight; Let not that alien youth to my Belovèd City find his way. Ere that, ere that . . . Oh, let him die! Let darkness take his new-found day! No place for an invading foe, No place hath Athens for a new Usurping King! One king we know, Our own Erechtheus, old and true! [_Enter_ CREUSA _helping the Old Retainer_. [725-743] CREUSA Old friend, who guided faithfully my dear Father, Erechtheus, when he still was here, Climb with me, up to the steep Temple Way, To share my joy if Loxias today About my child hath answered as is meet. Joy shared with one we love is doubly sweet, And if--which heaven forbid--our quest go ill, To look into a friend's eyes giveth still Some comfort . . . To my father you were true In care, your mistress now must care for you. RETAINER My daughter, worthy of a noble race Thy gentle heart is. Thou dost not disgrace Thine ancient sires, true fruits of Attic land. Lead, lead me to the place. Give me thy hand. "Steep is the prophet's way." Thy hand to assuage My aching limb brings medicine to mine age. CREUSA Follow. Be careful where your steps are put. RETAINER The mind is quick enough, though slow the foot. CREUSA Feel with your staff the pathway's winding rim. RETAINER [744-755] The staff is blind too when the eyes are dim. CREUSA 'Tis true; yet, though thou art weary, fall not back. RETAINER 'Tis not the will, 'tis but the strength I lack. [_He sinks on the steps._ CREUSA Ye women, faithful workers of my loom, Say, with what answer hath my husband come From the god's chamber back, touching the quest Of children that we came for. Ope your breast And speak, for if the news ye bring is good, In us ye will not find ingratitude. CHORUS Ah, word of fate! RETAINER The prelude of your message goes not well. CHORUS Unfortunate! RETAINER What aileth in my master's oracle? LEADER [756-764] Ah me, what can we? 'Twould be death, he said . . . CREUSA What tone is this? What is it that ye dread? LEADER Speak or not speak--which is our choice to be? CREUSA Speak. Do ye know some evil touching me? LEADER Spoke it shall be, though doubly I should die. No child of thine, mistress, shall ever lie Nursed in thine arms or feed upon thy breast. CREUSA Oh, let me die! RETAINER My daughter! CREUSA Most unblest! What can it mean? This blow Teareth my life apart. We are lost! RETAINER [765-777] My child! CREUSA Ah, woe! It stabs me to the heart. RETAINER Ah, weep not yet . . . CREUSA My grief is now and here. RETAINER Until we learn . . . CREUSA What more have I to fear? RETAINER Our Master's fortune; are ye both as one In barrenness, or strikes it thee alone? LEADER To him a child is given by Loxias Apart from her. A separate gift he has. CREUSA Alone! One insult more Darker than all before! RETAINER [778-793] This child; it shall hereafter be begot Upon some woman? As yet he liveth not? LEADER Nay, born already and full grown withal The son that Loxias gives. I heard it all. CREUSA Oh, 'tis a tale not to be told, a word Not to be spoke nor heard! RETAINER So say I . . . But how ran the oracle? Who is this son? Thy story plainly tell. LEADER "Whoever first shall meet thee from my shrine Returning," the god said, "that child is thine." CREUSA [_sobs._ A life childless, childless! 'Tis his decree. A house of loneliness, Without hope, waits for me. RETAINER Who met him then? Whom did the god declare To be his son? How was he seen, and where? LEADER [794-807] Belovèd Queen, thou knowst him. Thou didst see The youth who swept this temple. It is he. CREUSA Oh, but for wings to fly, Far from all Hellas, far, Up through the yielding sky To some dim Western star! Oh, friends, this agony! RETAINER Know ye what name the father gave this child? Or was none spoken? Was he left unstyled? LEADER ION--the first sight seen upon his way. RETAINER Or who the mother was . . . LEADER I cannot say. Howbeit, to tell thee of Xuthus all I know, Off on a twofold quest I saw him go, A feast for a new friend; also a rite For a son's birth. Out of our lady's sight, Alone with this new son, 'tis his intent To hold a great feast in some sacred tent. RETAINER [808-829] We have been betrayed! We, for your wrongs are mine, Mistress. Your husband by a thought-out line Of outrage seeks to abuse and cast us out From old Erechtheus' house. I speak without Hate against him, only with love for you. 'Tis plain. He had no right of birth, but through Marriage with you he planned to make his own Your house, your heritage, your crown and throne, While on another woman, safely hid, Getting a secret son. 'Twas thus he did. You being without child, he would not share Your fortune nor with you his burden bear. He took some slave, made her his secret bride, Begat this son, and sent him here, to hide And rear to manhood, to some Delphian guest, Who, thinking what would hide the infant best, Loose in the temple left him to be reared. So he grew up, and Xuthus, when he heard The babe was now a man, persuaded you, Being childless still, to journey here and sue The god for help . . . 'Twas not the god, 'twas he, Who lied and wove this tangled history To explain the child. Discovered, he would be Apollo's gift; still hidden, patiently Xuthus could wait for the right hour to hand On to this boy the kingship of the land. LEADER [830-856] Workers of wickedness! All such I hate, Whose ugly aims smooth counsels decorate. Rude but true-hearted be my friends in need, Not great in word and wit but false in deed. RETAINER Then, last, worst insult to thy childless lot, A motherless, unacknowledged, slave-begot Bastard as master in thy house shall reign. The wrong done were but single had he ta'en, With thy consent, some maid of gentle race To bear his child, pleading thy barrenness. If that displeased thee, home he should have hied And sought some Aeolid princess for his bride. But now, what? What revenge doth best beseem A woman? Take a sword? Think of a scheme? A poison? Something swift to slay those two, Father and son, ere they bring death to you? To falter now is to give up your life. Two foes beneath one roof--in such close strife Or one head or the other quick must fall. Lo, I am with thee to the end of all! To slay that stripling, I can make my way In where the feast is laid; and there repay The house whose bread I have eaten. What care I The deed once done, whether I live or die? Slaves have a sorry name, but if they be True-souled they have one honour with the free. LEADER [857-880] Dear mistress, every grief that falls on you Is mine. Come life come death, I will be true. CREUSA [_To herself._ My heart, how can I hold my peace? Yet how unveil that hour so black, And let all thoughts of honour cease? What is there now to hold me back? What care I to be praised or loved? My husband is a traitor proved; My child, my home, are gone from me; Gone all the hopes that silently I fostered with a vain intent; For that I hid my ravishment, My motherhood, my agony. [_openly._ No, by the heaven's all-starrèd zone, By her upon the Rock, our own Athena; yea, and by the shore Of Triton's Lake, her holiest-- That hour of shame shall now no more Lie hidden! I will clear my breast Of secrets and at last have rest. Mine eyes with tears are brimming o'er, My whole soul sick with misery, A victim of cold malice I, From man, from god--a god now proved A traitor, false to her he loved! [_To the Temple._ [881-906] O thou that from thy seven-fold lyre Canst wake the dead bones of the wild To song sweet as the Muses' choir, Here, in the sun, I charge thee plain, I cry thee scorn, thou god defiled! Thou camest, thy brow all flashing gold, Where I was playing with a chain Of flowers that, in my garment's fold, I saw flash back thy gold again . . . There came an iron hold Down on my wrist and I, Frightened, I could but cry "Mother, Mother," and there Away to thy caverned lair, Shamelessly, pitilessly, Dragging, thou heldest me, Thou god, to lie with thee, Sating thy lust.--Aye, more, Woe's me! The child I bore, Fearing my mother's eye, In thine own chamber, where Thou hadst wrought my misery, I laid him down. And he . . . He is lost, lost! good meat For vultures to rend and tear, My child, Coward! and thine! And thou . . . Oh, thy lyre is sweet, And happy thy paean's tone! [907-924] Hark, Son of Leto! thou Who sufferest them alone Whom the lot has marked thine own By Mid Earth's central seat, Fronting the golden throne, Humbly thy name to greet-- I make no whispered prayer, Here where thou needs must hear, Out in the sun, I now Blaspheme thee, I name thee, Thou My lover and my betrayer! Who now to my husband, one Who has suffered naught for thee, Hast given a son, not mine, My great house to possess; But my son, mine own, And thine, false father! thine, Uncradled, motherless, Out to the vultures tossed As carrion! Lost! Lost! I hate thee! Delos hates thee! Thine own shoot Of laurel hates thee, and thy tree, The palm where Leto faithfully Bore the Great Father's seed to fruit And gave thee tendance, all hate thee! LEADER Oh, what a storehouse openeth, wide and deep, Of sorrows! Who could hear thee and not weep? RETAINER [925-939] Daughter, to gaze into thine eyes doth blind Mine own with pity. I cannot rule my mind. Great waves above us break and, as I bale One, a worse flood bursts o'er me at thy tale. Great wrongs I knew before, but thou art flown Out on strange ways, towards miseries unknown. What sayest thou? What dread witness dost thou bear 'Gainst Loxias? What babe was this? And where In Athens was he cast away, to fall A prey to some wild beast? . . . On, tell me all. CREUSA I will . . . Oh, I am shamed to speak thereof. RETAINER I have a heart to weep with those I love. CREUSA A cave called the Long Rocks, you know it well, On the north edge of Cecrops' citadel. RETAINER Aye, with an altar and a shrine of Pan. CREUSA Once in that cave a deadly race I ran. RETAINER [940-949] What race, Child? My tears run to meet thy tale. CREUSA 'Gainst Phoebus' force striving, to no avail . . . RETAINER My daughter, can it be that time I knew . . . CREUSA What time? Speak, I will tell you if 'tis true. RETAINER You used to weep, you had some secret care. CREUSA That was the secret that I now lay bare. RETAINER How did you hide it then? What did you plan? CREUSA My babe came . . . Oh, bear with me if you can! RETAINER Where? Who could tend you? Were you all alone? CREUSA Alone; in that cave where the wrong was done. RETAINER [_With sudden hope._ [950-958] Where is the babe? . . . Ah, now you have a child! CREUSA Dead! Outcast to the raveners of the wild. RETAINER Dead? And Apollo . . . Vile! . . . no succour gave? CREUSA No: left him to seek succour in the grave! RETAINER Who cast the baby out? . . . Not you, not you? CREUSA I, in the dark, swathed up and hid from view. RETAINER Had you no comrade? None to help or guide? CREUSA My misery and my secret, none beside. RETAINER How could you, in that cave, leave him to lie? CREUSA [959-967] How? . . . With wild tears and whispers of good-bye! RETAINER Cruel! . . . But oh, the god! More cruel he. CREUSA Had you but seen those arms held out to me! RETAINER To find your breast? To lie in your embrace? CREUSA To rest where I had robbed him of his place. RETAINER That deed . . . how came it ever to thy mind? CREUSA Surely, I thought, the god would save his kind. RETAINER Ah me! The glory of thy house is fled. [_He covers his head with his cloak._ CREUSA Old friend! Why do you weep, why hide your head? RETAINER [968-976] Thou art fallen, fallen, and all thy fathers' pride! CREUSA So fare all mortal things. Naught shall abide. RETAINER [_Throwing off his cloak._ Child, you must act. No more weak tears for you! CREUSA I am beaten, helpless. What am I to do? RETAINER Take vengeance on the god who has done thee wrong. CREUSA How can I? I so weak and he so strong. RETAINER Set fire, even now, to Loxias' sacred fane. CREUSA I fear him . . . I have had enough of pain. RETAINER Strike where you can then. Your false husband's blood . . . CREUSA [977-985] Ah, no . . . I loved him once, when he was good. RETAINER The boy, then, born and framed to wrong thee, slay. CREUSA How? . . . I could find the will, were there some way . . . RETAINER Arm your own thralls. Give every man his blade. CREUSA I might . . . But where should the attempt be made? RETAINER Here in the tent. He gives his banquet there. CREUSA In the open? No . . . And slaves would never dare RETAINER Shrinking? Well, you suggest what can be done. CREUSA I have a plan--a swift and secret one. RETAINER [986-996] Swift, secret? Then I am with you, near or far. CREUSA Then listen . . . Know you of the Giants' War? RETAINER Against the gods, in Phlegra? Yes, I know. CREUSA There Earth brought forth the Gorgon, that dire foe. RETAINER Her sons to embolden and the gods to affright. CREUSA Even so; and Pallas slew her in the fight. RETAINER So ran the tale by ancient legends spread. CREUSA And wears on her own breast the snake-ringed head. RETAINER The Aegis, it is called, Athena's shield. CREUSA [997-1005] The sight of it spread panic in the field. RETAINER What help is that, against our enemy? CREUSA [_A slight pause._ Does Erichthonius' name mean aught to thee? RETAINER Thy race's first forefather, born of Earth. CREUSA To him Athena granted at his birth . . . RETAINER What gift? Thy speech holds back, as if in dread. CREUSA Two blood-drops that the dying Gorgon shed. RETAINER Which have some power upon man's life and breath? CREUSA One medicines all disease, and one is death. RETAINER [1006-1014] For the babe's keeping how were they made fast? CREUSA With golden chains. Then to my sire they passed. RETAINER And on thy father's death the jewel fell . . . ? CREUSA To me. Here on my wrist I guard it well. RETAINER How did the blood that double virtue gain? CREUSA One drop is heart's blood, from the hollow vein . . . RETAINER With some strange power? Say what its virtue is. CREUSA It fosters life and wards off all disease. RETAINER The second then, say what effect it makes. CREUSA [1015-1023] Death, 'Tis the poison of the Gorgon snakes. RETAINER Thou hast not mixed them? They are separate still? CREUSA They are kept apart. Good mateth not with ill. RETAINER Sweet mistress, all we need is with thee now! CREUSA By this the youth shall die: his slayer thou. RETAINER Where? How? Speak thou: 'tis mine to do and dare. CREUSA In Athens, in my house. Once he is there . . . RETAINER Ah, no. You are wrong . . . You too found fault with me. CREUSA You spy some danger? . . . Yes, methinks I see. RETAINER [1024-1038] There, cause or no, suspicions will be worse. CREUSA Ah, true. The stepmother, the children's curse! RETAINER Best slay him here; here all can be denied. CREUSA Yes, and my wrath the earlier satisfied! RETAINER And Xuthus snared in the very snare he planned! CREUSA To work then! Take this jewel from my hand, Athena's gift, wrought work of ancient gold. Go where my husband, hid from me, will hold His treacherous feast; then, when the meats are o'er, Wait till they stand in readiness to pour Libations; then have this drop treasured up Unseen, and slip it in the young man's cup-- Only in his, none other's, his alone Who plotteth to usurp my house and throne. Let this once pass his lips, he ne'er shall tread Athenian soil, but stay in Delphi--dead! [_Exit_ CREUSA. RETAINER [1039-1064] Go thou, and in the chambers of thy host, Lie quiet; I will fail not at my post! O aged feet, be young to do and dare, Though days and years gainsay thee. Forward fare, Beside thy mistress; on with her to meet Her foe, and slay and cast him from his seat. The laws of God let happier men fulfill Who live in peace; In war I mean to kill Mine enemy, and no law shall baulk my will. [_Exit._ CHORUS Dark Hecatê, thou Wender of the Way, [_Str._ By dark, by daylight, Guide of them that slay, Darkly the cup of doom Guide to his lips, on whom My mistress, mine own mistress, makes essay. Surely 'tis not in vain she harboureth The blood-drop from the Gorgon's dying breath For him who would her ancient throne debase. Oh, never be there set in our high place An alien; none but high Erechtheus' race! But if that death be unaccomplishèd, [_Antistr._ Her will denied, and the hour for striking fled, If the last hope whereby She is upborne, pass by, What more hath Fate in keeping but the red [1065-1105] Sword, or taut noose, till in one pang her strife Cease, and away to other forms of life She pass; she will not here in sunshine stand And see her house bowed in a stranger's hand, She, the King's Daughter of a lordly land! O God of Songs, deep shamèd wilt thou be [_Str._ If strange eyes share our vigil in the night, And there, beside the dancing fountain, see Our mystic torch's light Marking the numbered days that rise and die When even god's starrèd ether danceth high, Danceth the moon, and Nereids from the sea, Two-score and ten, and rivers eddying down To adore the Maiden of the Golden Crown And the Holy Mother, dance in ecstacy, Where, sent by thee, this wanderer, coveting The toil of others, hopeth to be King. Alas, ye minstrels that for ever press [_Antistr._ Your evil-sounding songs of woman's love, The love exceeding law and holiness That Cypris wotteth of, Behold how far in honour we outrange Man's faithless matings. Make your music change, Your Muse in wrath show what man's deeds have been. Hath not the Son of Jove's own son forgot The holiest debt he owes, enduring not, Childless, to share one fortune with his queen. He hath turned him to another bed and won For heir to her great house a bastard son! [_Enter a_ MESSENGER, _slave of Creusa, running_. [1106-1118] MESSENGER Fair damsels, say where can I find the Queen My mistress? Through all quarters I have been Of Delphi, searching, and can find her not. LEADER What is it, fellow servant? Why so hot Your speed of foot? What tiding do you bear? MESSENGER We are hunted! The land's rulers everywhere Seek her for death. By stoning she must bleed. LEADER Oh, God! What say you? Is our secret deed Discovered, how we sought that youth to slay? MESSENGER You knew it? A quick price you too will pay. LEADER How was it? Who revealed the hidden plot? MESSENGER A deed of justice so unjust could not Lie hidden. The god would not bear the stain. LEADER [1119-1147] But how? In mercy make thy story plain. It may be we must die; but even so We crave . . . Oh, dead or living, let us know! MESSENGER Our lady's husband and that son of his Together left this Temple's boundaries, To arrange the promised feast and sacrifice. Then up to where the flames of Dionyse Dance on the ridges Xuthus took his way To anoint the Twin Rocks with the appointed spray For Birth-rite sacrifice. "Son, stay thou here" He said, "and set the workmen's hands to rear A great tent. Honour well the Gods of Birth, And then wait not for me, but start the mirth And feasting for thy gathered company." So, with the calves of offering, off went he. Straightway the youth on uprights, sheet by sheet, His tent erected, careful not to meet The burning rays of noon or westering eve; One plethron square he made it, to receive As guests, if need be, the whole Delphian folk. Then weavings from the sacred store he took To clothe the frame, things marvellous to the eyes. First, for the roof, a wing of broideries He spread, a gift that Heracles, Jove's son To Phoebus gave, spoils of the Amazon, With symbols woven of Ouranos on high And all the assembled wonders of the sky. [1148-1175] The sun toward the fading west his car Drove, and behind him drew the evening star. Then Night, black-robèd, on her traceless pair Wheeled, with a train of stars about her chair. Then up the mid sky moved the starry Dove With sword-begirt Orion, and, above, Revolving Arctos with his tail of gold. An orbèd moon, still upward moving, told The mid-month, and the Hyades, most true Of guides to mariners; then upward drew The Dawn, and the stars fled before her eyes. On the sides, too, were other broideries Of eastern art, war-ships with prows that ran To pierce Greek ships, and shapes half-beast half-man And stags pursued on horseback, and the chase Of lions ravening in the wilderness. At the entry Cecrops, with his daughters three, Writhing in coils--Athenian, sure, must be That craftsman's hand. Then midway in the tent He stood great mixing bowls, and forth was sent A herald who, to full height straining, cried That Delphians all who would should come inside And share the banquet. When the room was full They crowned them with fresh flowers, and bountiful The feast was. Later, when desire for food Was sated, in came that old man, and stood Amid the feasters, and much merriment He caused, so busily he came and went, Carried the pitchers, poured the hand-water, And burned sweet incense made with gum of myrrh. [1175-1204] Then all the golden goblets he alone Must portion--by no orders but his own, Then when the time for flutes and loving-cup For all had come, this greybeard lifted up His voice: "Away with these light bowls," he said, "Bring larger vessels, that our guests be led Quicker to mirth." So men were set to go With silver cups and golden, to and fro, Crowding, while he one beaker from the board Chose out for offering to his new-found lord. Into that wine he cast a drop of death Which secretly the Queen--so rumour saith-- Had given to slay that young life in its joy. No eye had seen it. In his hand the boy Took with the rest his cup when, lo, he heard Some slave let fall an inauspicious word. The lad being temple-trained, true to his role, Feared the bad sign and bade them bring a bowl Of untouched wine; meantime out on the floor He poured his draught and bade the others pour. So all stood silent, while we filled those fine Beakers with water pure and Byblian wine. While this was doing, in there burst a flight Of sudden pigeons, such as dwell of right In Phoebus' house, and where the wine lay spilled The dry beaks dipped and the soft throats were filled. Harmless was that libation to the rest, But one, which lighted where the birthday guest Had poured his, while she there her pleasure took . . . A-sudden all that feathery form was shook, [1205-1228] And widly leapt and screamed with a strange cry Incomprehensible. On every eye Amazement fell to think what ailed the bird. Then in one dying gasp she fell, and stirred No more those roseate feet. Up leapt the young Fore-destined son, cast off his mantle, flung Across the table his bare arms, and caught The old man with a shout; "Who was it, sought To kill me? Thine was all the meddling; thine, Greybeard, the hand that offered me the wine! Confess!" With that he gript the old grey frame Searching to find wherefrom the poison came. Twas found, and with fierce questioning they broke The old man down, and, telling all, he spoke, Creusa's charge and how the drink was planned. Then out into the city with his band Of feasters went the youth of Phoebus' choice And 'mid the Lords of Delphi raised his voice: "O holy land, Erechtheus' daughter, she An alien here, hath sought to murder me." The rulers then decreed with one accord, Seeing she had slain the servant of the Lord Of Delphi, and with blood the sanctuary Defiled, our mistress shall be stoned and die. Now all the city is set forth to find That woman, on a blind road wandering blind, Who came to Phoebus for a child to pray, And now child, life and all hath cast away. [_Exit._ CHORUS [1229-1251] --No escape, none. 'Tis death for me. All seen, all known! No refuge for my misery! Poison, the swift echidna's own In Bacchus' glad libation thrown: All known, all seen! New offerings to the dead are here: My life undone, and for my Queen Death, death by stone on stone. Now all is clear. --Oh, for some wingèd flight afar, To clouds above or deeps beneath, Or wind-sped sail or thundering car, To escape the horror of that death. Methinks no secret shall abide Unseen, save what god wills to hide. --Unhappy Queen, what suffering still Waits thee; me also; come it must! Who sought to do their neighbour ill That ill shall suffer; 'tis but just. [_Enter_ CREUSA. CREUSA My handmaidens, I am pursued. They come and for my blood they cry, My blood and death! By Delphic law a thing cast out to death am I. CHORUS [1252-1257] Unhappy mistress, all that fell we know, and what awaits thee now. CREUSA Where can I fly? Out of the house I stole--and none too soon, I trow-- To escape the slayers. Through their line I slipped and came to hide me here. CHORUS Where else but to the altar? CREUSA Why? How will that help me? CHORUS They will fear To kill a suppliant; 'tis the law. CREUSA But 'tis the law that I must die! CHORUS Not till they have thee in their hands. CREUSA [1257-1274] See! See, they come with swords on high! They have beat me in the race! CHORUS Quick, kneel in the ashes. So thy blood shall be As god's wrath on thy slayer's head. Enough! Endure what comes to thee. [CREUSA _clings to the Altar, kneeling in the ashes of sacrifice. Enter a troop of Delphians, led by_ ION. ION O great bull-hornèd spirit of the flood, Cephîsus, came there from thy royal blood This asp, this dragon with the eyes of fire, In whom all poison seeketh? Not so dire Those Gorgon drops wherewith she sought my life. Seize her; let those smooth-ordered locks in strife With jagged rocks be torn as down yon steep, Hurled by rude hands, we see her body leap. My stepmother! She could not wait her hour, Thank god, to have me in Athens in her power. Here, with friends round me, I could safely test What peril and what hate was in thy breast. Once I were snared within thy doors, right well I know thou hadst caught and flung my life to Hell. [_He sees that she is at the altar._ [1275-1288] Nay, not the altar, not Apollo's shrine Shall save thee. "Mercy" wilt thou cry? Not thine The right to mercy. Mercy is for me And her, that Mother whom I ne'er may see. Trick after trick! See what the wretch hath done To escape us, cowering at the altar stone! She thinks to evade all justice for her sin. CREUSA I charge you, slay me not! I charge you in The god's name and in mine who am His own. ION Thou His! No portion hast thou in him, none! CREUSA I give my body to be His this day. ION While me, His true possession, thou wilt slay! CREUSA Possession? Thy new father's thou must be. ION In passing, but the god's eternally. CREUSA [1289-1297] No, not now. I am now where you have been. ION You are outcast, stained with blood; my hands were clean. CREUSA Shall I not smite the foe of all my line!? ION Foe? Did I come in arms 'gainst thee and thine? CREUSA Yes, to burn down the old castle of my sires! ION To burn? Where are the torches, where the fires? CREUSA To rob me, and to steal my father's throne! ION My father's gift; the land he had made his own. CREUSA What right had the Aeolid in Pallas' land? ION [1298-1307] He saved it, saved it by his own strong hand. CREUSA A foreign ally is no citizen. ION For what I might intend, you killed me, then? CREUSA What you intended you would soon have done. ION Childless, your envy grudged my sire his son. CREUSA If childless, must I needs have you for heir? ION In my own father's wealth have I no share? CREUSA His shield and spear! Take them! They were his own. ION Oh, leave that altar! From god's seat begone! CREUSA Ask thy lost mother! She may list to thee. ION [1308-1323] Thinkst thou to go unpunished, murdering me? CREUSA Else on this altar my spilt blood will lie. ION Why seekst thou thus in the god's wreaths to die? CREUSA If I must suffer, thou shalt suffer too. ION 'Tis strange, these sacred rules; how all untrue The gods have made them, how unreasoning. Why should the guilty have this right to cling To the altar? Cast them out! God's sanctities Should never endure the touch of such as these. Only to save the wronged and innocent This refuge in the sanctuaries was meant. Not that, if once they reach the sacred place, Wicked and good are equal in god's grace. [_Enter from the inner shrine the_ PYTHIAN PRIESTESS, _bearing in her arms an old cradle_. PYTHIA Son, hold thy hand! Behold, I leave my throne Of prophecy and pass this threshold stone, I, god's own virgin, chosen from all the land To see the laws he made unbroken stand. ION [1324-1332] Mother, though not in flesh, mother in love! PYTHIA Aye, call me that. Sweet is the sound thereof. ION Hast heard? This woman planned to murder me. PYTHIA PYTHIA I heard; nor do I praise thy cruelty. ION Must I not strike at one who seeks my life? PYTHIA Fierce to the stepson always is the wife. ION And I to stepmothers who poison me. PYTHIA Peace! Seek thine own land. This temple sets thee free. ION [_completely yielding._ I accept thy charge; say all that I must do. PYTHIA [1333-1341] Enter thy home unstained, with omens true. ION The hand is clean that slays an open foe. PYTHIA Such thoughts are not for thee . . . But mark me now ION Let me but hear. I know thy loving care. PYTHIA Thou seest what burden in my arms I bear? ION I see a cradle, old and swathed in bands. PYTHIA In this, new-born, thou camest to my hands. ION How? This is new; a tale I have never known. PYTHIA Before 'twas hid: at last it must be shown. ION [1342-1350] Hid all these years! Why was it hid at all? PYTHIA 'Twas His will, here to keep thee his own thrall. ION And now His will is changed? . . . How do we know? PYTHIA With thy new father now he bids thee go. ION Why was the cradle kept? His charge, or why? PYTHIA He put some feeling in my heart that I . . . [_she hesitates._ ION That thou . . . Speak on. Complete what thou wouldst say. PYTHIA That I should keep it safe until this day. ION What bodeth it to me, of ill or good? PYTHIA [1351-1363] It holds the tokens of thy babyhood. [CREUSA _watches with interest_. ION Tokens? Whereby my mother might be sought? PYTHIA Even so. 'Tis now His will. Before 'twas not. ION O blessed light! This is a wondrous day! PYTHIA Take them and seek her. Faint not on thy way. ION Through Europe and all Asia till she is mine! PYTHIA That thou wilt judge. 'Twas by His will divine I reared thee, child; and back to thee I give These vestures which He willed me to receive And keep, unbidden. Why He willed it so I know not. That I have kept them none could know, These long years; none their hiding place could tell. And now, child, with a mother's love, farewell! [_She turns to go. Start on thy quest. Seek first, was there some maid [1364-1383] Of Delphi, ravished, gave thee birth, and laid In the god's house the burden of her shame; If not, then search all Hellas. In the name Of Phoebus, that is the last word shall fall From me or from the god who hath shared in all! [_Exit into the Temple._ ION Alas, the tears are wet upon my eyes Thinking of her, my mother, stealthy-wise Wedded, who sought to expel me far away Unwanted; never on her breast I lay; A slave's life, nameless, in god's house I had. Ah, good the god hath been to me, but bad The ways of Fortune. All the time I should Have lived enwrapped in happy babyhood, And known life's joy, I was cut off, exiled From that fond life a mother gives her child. Poor mother, too! She likewise from the boy She had born cut off, ne'er knew a mother's joy. This cradle it were best, methinks, to take Inside and to the god an offering make, Lest, if I find, I find not what I crave. The woman who bore me . . . if she were a slave 'Twere worse to find her than to let things be. [1384-1403] Lord Phoebus, here in offering to thee . . . And yet, what is it with me? Would I fight 'Gainst the god's purpose, who hath brought to light Her tokens? Open, then, and see, and dare! The burden Fate ordains I needs must bear . . . [_He opens the cradle._ Ah, look! The wrapping of the cradle's fold By some strange providence hath grown not old. No mould is on the straps. Yet year on year These things have lain, hoarded and secret here. CREUSA What dream is this? What unimagined sign? ION Silence! We know enough of thee and thine . . . CREUSA My need will brook no silence. School me not. The casket there--in that I once set out In Cecrops' cavern, in the rock on high . . . Thee, child! . . . I leave this altar though I die. [_Moves towards_ ION. ION Seize her. She is god-maddened, and she stands Clear of the altar's emblems.--Bind her hands! CREUSA [1404-1413] Oh, hack me! Never falter! I cling fast To this, to thee, and all thy hidden past! ION She claims me hers. Such brazenness unknown . . . CREUSA At last, she who is yours has found her own! ION Her own? . . . And then you tried to murder me! CREUSA My child; what more my own could ever be? ION Oh, cease this twisting. I will test your claim. CREUSA Let all be tested. 'Tis at that I aim. ION Is this urn empty, or has it aught within? CREUSA Your things, the swathings that I wrapped you in. ION [1414-1422] Give them a name while yet unseen they lie. CREUSA That will I. If I fail thee let me die. ION Speak on. . . . Thy daring makes me half afraid. CREUSA Then look. A childish sampler that I made . . . ION What sort of sampler? Many kinds they make CREUSA Unfinished; a child's task for practice sake. ION What pattern has it? I will not be misled. CREUSA In the mid warp there is a Gorgon's head. ION O Zeus, what fate is this that tracks us out? CREUSA [1423-1432] Ringed like an aegis, with snakes coiled about. ION Look . . . Here is it--as one reads an oracle. CREUSA That old, old childwork, but remembered well! ION Is there aught else? Or did one happy guess . . . CREUSA Serpents, the old sign of our golden race, Which Pallas left her children to adorn In Erechthonius' way, the serpent-born. ION What mean the snakes? How are they used? Say on. CREUSA As necklace for a new-born babe, my son. ION 'Tis here. And one thing more; oh, tell it me! CREUSA [1433-1449] A crown of olive from the immortal tree, The first, by Pallas planted in the rock, I bound upon thy brow; if of true stock The wreath is, it shall never lose its green But bloom as verdant as it e'er hath been . . . ION Mother! . . . My own, my nearest. What I see I welcome, and kiss this cheek that welcomes me. CREUSA O child, O light more lovely than the Sun-- The god forgive me!--I hold thee here, my own, Found, found, the unhoped for! I thought thee afar, without breath Below, 'mid the tribes of the lost, with the Mother of Death. ION Nay, mother mine; but clasp with arms outspread Thine own dream--one who died and is not dead. CREUSA The heavens break open above me. What cry, what word of flame Can utter this joy, this sweetness, or tell from whence it came? ION [1450-1461] What fancy could have seemed more wild to me Than this--that I am thine, a part of thee? CREUSA I tremble still with fear. ION Nay, that is past; Dost fear that still thou hast not what thou hast? CREUSA So long ago I had cast all hope away. [_To the_ PYTHIA _who is no longer present_. From where, O woman, say, From where my babe fell to those arms of thine? What hand had borne it to Apollo's shrine? ION Surely the hand of god . . . Ah, may the rest Of life requite us for those years unblest. CREUSA My child, my child, 'twas among tears I bore thee, With weeping wast thou ravished from my breast And now in joy my cheek is breathing o'er thee, In very joy, the blessing and the blest. ION [1462-1473] What toucheth thy heart, mother, toucheth mine. CREUSA Childless no more, no more without a line; My hearth has now its fire, my land its king! Erechtheus young shall rise; To the Earth-born House no more shall darkness cling; To heaven it lifts its eyes. [_A pause._ ION Mother, my father should be with us, glad To share with thee the joy ye both have had. CREUSA Father? . . . My child, my child! How fate hath found me out! ION What meanst thou? CREUSA From without thou camest, from without. ION Ah me! The bastard of a maiden's wrong! CREUSA [1474-1483] No torch, no hallowed song Helped in the wooing whence thy life was born. ION O God! Base-born. Whence, mother, am I sprung? CREUSA Lo, I am sworn By Her, the Gorgon-slayer . . . ION What meanest thou? CREUSA By Her upon my native rocks I vow, Throned on the eternal olive-planted hill . . . ION Alas, this likes me ill; Crafty, not plain, these tales! CREUSA There in the shade where sing the nightingales The god . . . ION The god? CREUSA [1484-1497] In secret as I lay . . . ION Is this some good, some hope for me! Say on. CREUSA Held me, and when ten moons had gone their way, I bore thee, thee, Apollo's secret son! ION A wondrous fortune, if thy tale be true. CREUSA Hid from my mother, covering thee I threw A girl's poor wraps, what webs my shuttle wove, But held thee not to rest, Gave thee no mother's breast, My hands to lave thy body never strove. In one dread hour Down in a lonely cave my babe was cast For wild things to devour, for birds to tear, And death at last! ION Mother, what things to suffer! . . . And to dare! CREUSA [1498-1515] Fear was it, like a deadly chain, that lay About me till I cast thy life away. I killed thee, killed thee, all unwilling, I . . . ION And after, by my hands came near to die. CREUSA Ah, fearful were those days, and fearful these. We are tossing to and fro O'er the great deep On changing storms that blow For ever. Oh, let them sleep! We have suffered enough. From here where winds are wild May yet some peaceful breeze Bear us, my child! LEADER Well may man see, from what is fallen here, Naught is too high to hope, too dread to fear. ION O Fortune, who transformest in a day Myriads of lives to triumph or dismay, By what a narrow line my steps have swerved From mother-murder and horrors undeserved! [1516-1538] Oh, could I, could I, now in daylight see, In broad day, how all this has come to be . . . 'Tis sweet to have found you, and this lordly race You give me, mother, 'tis a wondrous grace. The rest . . . I fain would speak with you alone. Come this way, mother mine. This in your own Ear I would speak, and after veil in shade. Bethink thee; didst thou not, like many a maid, To secret love, in a girl's frailty, fall, And now wilt make the god the cause of all? Twas to save me, thy child, from a dark blot Thou hast feigned me Phoebus-born, when I am not? CREUSA By Her I swear, who in her conquering car To Zeus was comrade in the Giants' War, Pallas, no mortal man thy father was, But he who reared thee, our Lord Loxias. ION Why gave he to another sire his own Offspring? Why say that I was Xuthus' son? CREUSA Not a son born; a gift; to be the heir He craved; the act of a god's loving care. ION [_breaking out._ Is the god true, or he and all his art Falsehood? 'Tis that, O Mother, racks my heart. CREUSA [1539-1557] Child, listen. 'Tis a thought that just has come Across me. In his love he sought a home For thee, as scion of some noble race. Hadst thou been known as the god's son, no place Was thine, nor heritage, nor father's name. Think; why did I myself not dare to claim His fatherhood? I came near killing thee; He gave thee to another and set thee free. ION Never so feebly shall this quest of mine Be solved. I will confront him in his shrine, And ask him, am I his or man-begot . . . [_As he approaches the door of the Temple a crack of thunder drives him back and_ ATHENA _appears_. Ha, what is that above the temple? What Divine face, shining like the sun on high? Fly, lest we look on things forbidden! Fly, Mother, unless . . . is this the hour for sight? ATHENA Fly not; not from a foe ye take your flight, But a true friend in Athens and the same Here. It is I who give your land its name, Pallas; and from Apollo's side in fleet Passage I come, who did not deem it meet [1558-1583] Himself to face you twain, lest there be cast Open reproach against him for things past, But sent me with his message, that indeed This woman bore thee from Apollo's seed. He gave thee to that other, not as son To father, but to be received as one By right the fruitage of a royal field. Then, when the plan of Xuthus was revealed, Lest thou shouldst perish by her plot or she By thy revenge, his thought delivered thee. He meant to keep all silent and make known Only in Athens how indeed thine own She is, thou hers, and eke of Phoebus born. But now to make an end, I come to warn Ye both of his decrees; for that I here Have yoked my chariot. To his word give ear. Departing hence, Creusa, take thy son To Cecrops' land and on a royal throne Establish him. He, of Erechtheus' line True scion, rightly rules this land of mine, And fame shall win through Hellas. Sons of his, Four from one root, their names and dignities Shall leave upon my land and all the folk Who dwell divided round Athena's Rock. One tribe shall Geleon gender; after these Come the Hoplêtes, then the Argadês, And they whose name doth to my aegis cling, Aegicorês. From them again shall spring Sons, who shall fill, when the due season smiles The sea-born cities of the cyclad isles, [1584-1605] And eke of the Asian shores, all which shall claim More greatness for the land that bears my name. Aye, and the coastlands that across the strait Face one another, this from Asia great, That from great Europe, they shall hold, and fame Majestic cleave to the Ionian name. To thee and Xuthus also shall a child, Dôrus, be born, from whom a city styled Dôris shall have due fame in Pelops' land. And after him Achaios, he whose hand Shall o'er the shores by Rhion on the sea Rule, and Achaioi shall that people be. Blame not Apollo; wisely hath he done. He made thy travail easy, so that none Should know; and when the babe was born, and laid With his due tokens in the cave, he bade Hermes to take the child upon his arm And bear him hither, sheltered from all harm; And tended him nor let his offspring die. Henceforth let all be secret; let no eye Nor ear discover that the child is thine. So the old hope in Xuthus' heart shall shine Content and comforting, and thou alone, Woman, shalt know what glory is thine own. Farewell; to both hereafter rest is given From suffering and long years of peace with heaven. ION [1606-1616] O Daughter thou of Zeus most high, never in unbelief or scorn I hear the word thou speakest. I believe that I in truth was born Of Loxias and this woman . . . That indeed I doubted not before. CREUSA Let my voice too be heard. I praise the god I could not praise before. He gives me back at last my child whom he forgot and recked not of. These gates now wear a happy face; nay, all his Temple tells of love, Which once with hate I hated; now in worship at his door I bend, And gladly clasp its pendant ring and hail this portal as a friend. ATHENA 'Tis well thy heart is changed to praise the god, where erst thou didst him wrong. Slow-seeming are the ways of Heaven, but, e'er the end comes, passing strong. CREUSA Then forth, my son, and seek thine home. ATHENA Lead on; I too will homeward wend. CREUSA [1617-1622] Our truest guide, our chosen, thou! ATHENA Aye, and for Athens' sake, your friend. CREUSA Forth, son, to mount thine ancient throne. ION My fortune I do not repel. CREUSA Now fare thee well, O Leto-born. Zeus-child, for ever fare thee well! [_They go out in procession._ CHORUS Howso the blows of Fortune fall, Man, let thy fears away be cast If faithfully thou serve thy gods; Being well assured that at the last The true man hath his certain mede In the good deeds his hand hath wrought, But from the evil in his heart He that is false escapeth not. _NOTES_ The name Ion for the ancestor of the Ionians is natural enough, and it is in that connection that he is so named by Apollo. (v. 74 ff.) But various people seem to claim the honour of naming him; Hermes in v. 81, Xuthus in v. 661; compare the Chorus v. 802 and v. 831, and in each case the name is explained as a sort of participle of the verb _eimi_, to go. It looks as if some special significance or interest was attached to the name. Perhaps it carried an omen for the Ionians as travellers destined to "go" on and on till they populate the Aegean islands and sea shores and the plains on which Asia and Europe front one another, as is explained in vv. 1581-88. Apart from this play Ion is a very shadowy figure, as indeed are Erechtheus, Erichthonius and all the early kings of Attica before Theseus. They all bear marks of the Athenian boast of being aboriginal or "earth-born." The typical earth-born creature was the snake, hence the Snake-form of Cecrops, of the baby Erichthonius, of the golden chains on the cradles. P. 13. _Long Rocks_]. Identified with caverns on the N. Wall of the Acropolis. P. 13. Hermes, like Apollo, is superior to mere human feelings. He treats the exposure of the child as a matter of course. Contrast the feelings of the Old Retainer and Creusa herself, pp. 71 ff. P. 15, l. 58. _Creusa's hand . . . to Xuthus_]. Xuthus in this play is a rude Aeolid chief from Thessaly, perhaps banished from his own country and serving as a mercenary general in Attica. P. 16, l. 82. The god disappears as the sun rises. Ion hails the dawn; the Prophetess is supposed to take her seat on the throne; the temple attendants come out to their work, and Ion starts his sweeping. Note that "purity" and even "holiness" mean chiefly "not touched by misfortune or unhappiness." The pilgrims must not speak of evil or look distressed. Observe in all this scene the charm of peace and reverence: Apollo is still uncriticized and unstained, and Ion is proud of his "slavery." P. 19, l. 154. _Ha, there the birds . . ._]. A late writer on style, _Demetrius de Eloquio_, mentions this passage. "For example, the Ion of Euripides snatches up the bow and threatens the swan. The actor has many opportunites of rapid movement, to take the bow, look up to the sky as he talks to the swan and so on . . ." Such references to an actor's movements are very rare. P. 20, l. 184. _Not only Athens_]. The handmaids are surprised to see such buildings and works of art. Delphi, though a small provincial town, seems quite like the Acropolis. The scenes which they see are probably bas reliefs on the metopes: first Heracles killing the Hydra; Bellerophon mounted on Pegasus killing the Chimaera; then come scenes from the War of the Gods and Giants. How did women learn the myths and legends? Partly from pictures and sculptures, as here; still more, probably, from the regular practice of having stories told or sung to them as they sat at the loom. Cf. l. 506 p. 42. P. 22, l. 224. _Earth's mid navel stone_]. Delphi, like Jerusalem in the Middle Ages, was considered the centre of the earth. Two eagles, despatched from opposite ends of the earth, had met there, and the Omphalos, or "Navel Stone," was set up to mark the place, with carvings upon it representing two winged and terrible figures, which might be eagles or gorgons. P. 24, l. 238. _What nobleness_]. This long dialogue between the unknown mother and son is most skilfully written, and brings out well the attraction which they feel for one another. P. 24 f., l. 238. This "cry of the blood" is rather discredited in modern times, partly because it has been used too much in centuries of sentimental plays, partly because a modern generation does not believe in it as a true fact. We must remember that in Euripides' time it was still an original effect in drama, and also perhaps that in days when family feeling was so much stronger and more vitally important than it is now this instinctive "cry" may have been more a reality. Contrast Ion's complete lack of any sympathy towards his alleged father (517 ff.). Ion observes Creusa with more interest than he would an ordinary pilgrim, and she is not at all offended by his questions. It was rather a breach of religious manners to have tears in your eyes when gazing at the Temple; tears are a bad omen. The earlier part about Erechtheus' sacrifice of his daughter is meant, I think, to suggest a primitive half-savage atmosphere, in which all kinds of strange things are possible. P. 25, l. 265. _Is it true in God's name . . . ?_] Ion has heard rumours of these queer legends about the primaeval Athenian kings; can such things really be true? P. 27, l. 277. Erechtheus, in order to save his city from destruction by the enemy, sacrificed his daughter, Chthonia. The other daughters voluntarily shared her death. Cf. the scene in Euripides' _Heraclidae_ where Macaria claims the privilege of dying to save her brethren. P. 27, l. 285. _The Long Rocks._] It is natural for Ion to ask after the Long Rocks, as they had a special connection with Delphi. On three days and nights in each month watch was kept for lightning appearing at Harma on Mt. Parnes, which was supposed to be a message from the Delphian god. (There is some doubt whether the place of watch was really at the Long Rocks or elsewhere, at another part of the Acropolis.) P. 29, l. 300. _Trophonius._] This legendary Boeotian prophet had his oracle in a deep cavern about fifteen miles from Delphi, and almost on the way there from Athens. Of course Creusa wanted to get to Delphi alone, to ask her question. P. 30, l. 303. "_Fruits of the earth or children._"] The two normal reasons for consulting an oracle. P. 32, l. 323. "_The altars feed me._"] The sacrifices were a regular source of food both vegetable and animal, and visiting pilgrims would like to give the child food. P. 37, l. 390. _I must forget._] Creusa's disappointment is crushing, and in the midst of it she sees Xuthus coming. No wonder he finds her shaken and upset. P. 38, l. 403. _My late coming._] He has really come sooner than she expected. His manner is always brusque and businesslike. P. 40, ll. 429-451. The first part of this speech is quite natural and effective. Ion must wonder at Creusa's behaviour; and also wonder why he should take such an interest in her. It is natural too that he should be shocked at her story of Apollo. But in the latter part he seems to take it all rather lightly. At first hearing he thought it utterly impossible. He seems to lump it with all the similar myths about the disreputable love-affairs of the gods, which may be just "the lies of the poets," much as Aristophanes does of the last scenes of _The Birds_. This attitude is intelligible enough by itself, but it makes a discord with Ion's previous reverence for Apollo. The passage was seized upon by the Christian writers, Justin Martyr and Clement, to show the wickedness of Pagan gods. P. 40 ff., ll. 452-509. _First stasimon._] An appeal to Athena and Artemis to intercede with Apollo, their brother, so that the great House of Erechtheus may not fail for lack of children. Athena, the goddess of Athens, is not a mother, as Hera, for instance, is the mother of Argos. She is not only a virgin goddess but also is credited with a sort of "Immaculate Conception," that is, she was never conceived by woman but sprang like pure thought from the brain of Zeus. The Athenians were her spiritual children, but not by any process of wedding and birth. She lifted Erichthonius out of the earth. The cave of Pan is still conjecturally shown on the N.W. wall of the Acropolis, near the Long Rocks. The daughters of Cecrops, Hersê, Pandrosos and Aglauros opened the forbidden chest in which the babe Erichthonius was hidden, and finding a mysterious snake in place of the child went mad and threw themselves over the cliff. Their ghostly forms danced on the Acropolis by night. The wild music, dimly heard, which led the ghost dance, came from the piping of Pan in his deep, sunless cave. In such a place there might be such dreadful doings as Creusa has told of. "We have heard of such legends; the woman always suffers!" P. 43-52, ll. 517-565. _Bless you my child._] This false recognition scene is in the tone of Comedy. Xuthus is made ridiculous. Note also his natural embarrassment at Ion's questions in 544 ff.; and, in contrast to Ion, his comparative lack of interest in Ion's deserted mother. In the end Ion reflects with relief that he is not a mere slave; his father is at least of noble birth. P. 53 ff. ll. 585-647. _Things wear not the same face when looked at near._] Ion's reluctance to go to Athens is natural, but his speech is more suited to a clever Athenian man of the world than to the innocent temple servant at Delphi. He would still be an alien in Athens; and even true Athenians, if they are wise, had better not make themselves politically prominent in "a city full of fear" where the political leaders hate their rivals worse than their enemies. Then (607 ff.) comes the consideration for Creusa, whom of course he knows and is drawn to, so that he describes exactly what she actually feels and does; then the regular democratic sayings about the life of a king; then a truly felt description of the calm happiness of life in the religious community at Delphi. The personal parts of the speech have real feeling; the rest is rather in the style of conventional rhetoric. P. 56, l. 650 ff. _Oh cease such talk._] Xuthus has not much patience with these reflections. His plan is clear and he wastes no time. He will in due course make it all right with his wife. In the meantime--to the Handmaids, with barbaric brusqueness--"Remember; it is death to you if you speak a word of all this." P. 58 f. ll. 646-724. _Tears I see and murmuring._] A chorus of not much lyrical beauty but considerable dramatic use, to show how the Handmaids are gradually worked up to a wish for Ion's death. Xuthus' brutal threat is ringing in their ears. They cannot believe that the recognition of father and son has happened by chance. Clearly it is all a long-considered plot to get Xuthus' bastard made king. The boy is in it as well as his father. It is a deadly wrong to the true royal race. P. 60-80, ll. 725-1047. _Old friend who guided . . ._] This deeply touching scene is the real heart of the tragedy. The tried friendship and affection between the Old Retainer and his mistress, puts all the past story, the ravishment, the exposure and disappearance of the child and the rest, into a different atmosphere. Consider the feelings of the Retainer, and consequently of Creusa herself about the exposure of the child. After the last chorus it is easy to understand how the old man is worked up to the murder point; the first effect upon Creusa is despairing anger against the god; she will proclaim her own shame and misery, if only she can proclaim his infamy too. He is not only a brutal ravisher, but a false lover also, betraying her whom he has seduced. This most poignant and powerful scene is followed by another of the long and intimate dialogues which are conspicuous in this play. P. 66, l. 808. _We have been betrayed._] The Retainer is wrong in thinking that Xuthus has deliberately placed Ion in Delphi and plotted the whole intrigue; otherwise he is right. P. 74, 75, ll. 950-970. _Thou art fallen, fallen, and all thy father's pride._] It is not the mere violation but the exposure of the child and the whole story that makes him feel that the whole house of Erechtheus is for ever fallen. In that state of despair, he feels, all that remains is to kill your enemy and die. Creusa could not kill her husband, who once at least loved her; but the usurping and plotting bastard she might. P. 73, l. 956. The only abettors or accomplices of her horrible deed were her misery and her secret--that is, her need to be secret. P. 77, l. 989. The Gorgon was essentially a terrifying face; it might turn you to stone if you looked at it, as with Medusa, or it might strike panic into an army. The actual creature whose face it originally was, is never made clear, but naturally its blood would be poison. P. 78, l. 1001. _To him Athena granted._] Creusa hesitates. These line for line dialogues show great skill in writing. The unfinished sentences sometimes seem artificial but there is always good reason for them. Here Creusa naturally hesitates to mention the terrible weapon that she proposes. A similar fear checks her in l. 1011; she shrinks from naming the poison. P. 80, l. 1019. _In Athens. Not here. And you will do it, not I._] She can think of killing the boy some time far off if someone else does it. So above (l. 979), she might kill--not the God, that is impossible; not her husband, she loved him once. The usurping heir? Yes; she would be willing to do that. But circumstances drive her into doing the deed at once. A feeble struggle of conscience appears in l. 1035: nobody else must taste the poison. The Old Retainer, acting not for himself but in loyalty to his wronged mistress has less scruple. See his last lines. P. 82 f., ll. 1048-1105. _Dark Hecate._] A long chorus like the fall of a curtain, marking an indefinite passage of time. It serves first to bring the thought of the poisoning nearer. A prayer to Hecate of the Ways, to whom belong strange paths in the dark, to help in the death of the usurper. If he is allowed to live, our beloved mistress will die. She cannot live on and see Erechtheus' ancient throne desecrated. Then comes a rather puzzling strophe. It will be a disgrace to Apollo if alien eyes are admitted to see the mystic Dances of the Twentieth Days. We know little about these. Were they, like many secret rites, holy and beautiful to the initiated but somewhat ridiculous to the unprepared outsider? The last strophe touches a well-known note, the injustice always done to women in the traditional poetry; women may have their passionate love-affairs but no woman ever treats her husband as Xuthus, high-born as he is, has treated his wife. Cf. the first stasimon in the _Medea_, which has been called the "suffragette Chorus." P. 85-88, l. 1106. Messenger's speech. This was an essential element in a Greek tragedy. The death or catastrophe is not enacted, as it often is in Shakespeare, but always narrated, and narrated in a long formal narrative, beginning almost always in a calm tone, rising to height after height of pathos or excitement, and ending again in calm. Like similar narratives in Racine it is usually very effective on the stage and has been effectively imitated by some modern poets. The present Messenger does not attempt realistically to satisfy the anxiety of the Leader; he begins his long story at the beginning, telling of Xuthus' absence and the building of the tent with its sky-like roof, before he comes to the actual attempted murder and its failure. P. 85, l. 1106. _Ouranos_ is the sky; the Dove is the Pleiad, Arctos the Pole Star. The earth-born Cecrops is half a snake. The simplicity of the banqueting arrangements is probably true to Delphian custom. The tent is improvised; the invitation is proclaimed by a herald while the meal is preparing, and is quite general to all who wish to come. The Old Retainer, we may suppose, shared in Creusa's pardon. P. 85, l. 1125. _The flames of Dionyse._] Xuthus went to the sacred rocks at the top of Parnassus, where Bacchus with his inspired maidens danced with torches. He had two rites to perform, one for the Birth and one for the First Presentation of a child. P. 89, ll. 1229-1249. _No escape, none._] The chorus are first merely reduced to despair; then the Leader admits that they deserve their punishment. Then, when Creusa appears in flight, they think no more of anything but her. "Let her fly to the altar." How far the altar will save a criminal already condemned to death seems to be disputed. She kneels right in the ashes of sacrifice. P. 91, l. 1261. _Bull-horned Cephîsus]._] The Athenian River Cephîsus was naturally one of the fathers of Athens; River gods were all conceived as bulls; only a Bull Spirit could rush with the force of their floods. P. 92, l. 1285. _I give my body to be his._] Creusa here dedicates herself to the god; she becomes his as Ion was his in the conversation with Creusa (l. 309). But now, she points out, Phoebus has given Ion to Xuthus. "That" says Ion, "was just an incident; essentially I belong to Phoebus." P. 93, ll. 1291 ff. Creusa exaggerates her case. She assumes that all the possible evils she feared are real facts; thus Ion says; "you wanted to kill me not for anything I did but because of what you feared that I intended to do." P. 95, l. 1320. The entrance of the prophetess alters everything, and calms Ion. The line "Nor do I praise thy cruelty" changes the atmosphere. L. 1330 (This temple sets thee free), makes the quest of his mother his main duty. Hence Ion's surprised interruption. P. 100, l. 1370. _Thinking of her, my mother._] It is worth noting how deeply the wrong to the betrayed girl is felt both by Ion, (here and at p. 40) and by the Chorus. To Hermes, p. 13, and presumably to Apollo it is of no great account; they are not human and do not care much about humans. P. 101, l. 1390. _Ah, look, the wrappings on the cradle's fold._] Creusa has been watching eagerly; indeed, though silent, she has been to the audience the centre of interest. The point that decides her is (l. 1433) the freshness of the miraculous olive wreath. She leaves the altar, and, before the attendants can bind her, is clinging to Ion and the cradle. Note the preparation, ll. 1292 ff., of both Ion and Creusa for their great change of feeling. By l. 1394 (O blessed light) his mind is filled with the longing for his mother instead of vengeance on his murderess. Creusa has a much longer preparation, from the first sight of the cradle to the miraculously preserved coverings, for her first faint suspicions to grow to certainty. Ion is half sceptical, though in part prepared for a miracle, and is not carried away by his feelings even when he is convinced that he has found his mother. And then there is so much more for him to learn and believe. P. 111, ll. 1523-1530. _I fain would speak with you alone._] Again, as at l. 1477, doubt of the whole story assails him, and again Creusa's solemn oath silences his doubt. But, if Creusa's story is true, then Phoebus has lied in saying by oracle that Ion was Xuthus' son. A false oracle! Are all his oracles false and the god himself a vain thing? This is what "racks his heart;" and when Creusa suggests an excuse he will not be content with such a cheap answer; like Creusa herself in an earlier scene, p. 70, he will face the god and make him speak. . . . . But at this moment there comes a supernatural crash of thunder and a supernatural apparition of Athena. The gods, whatever their nature by our human standards, are too strong for us. As Euripides says elsewhere "We are slaves of gods, whatever the gods may be." Athena's speech seems deeply disappointing. This is not merely because Apollo does dare to appear and answer the question that "racks Ion's heart." At the end of Euripides' _Electra_ he does the same. Castor appears instead of him and definitely blames him, yet that scene is fine and moving. Here perhaps the trouble is that we have just been through a series of scenes full of real human feeling and now are moved suddenly to a scene with no human feeling at all. Yet possibly by ancient convention that is actually as it should be. Gods do not have ordinary human feelings. Apollo had no particular love or carnal desire for Creusa; he had only a great purpose, the founding of the Ionian race. The sufferings of a few individual human beings counted for little or nothing in the great sum. The ancient tribal names, Geleontes, Acrageis, Hoplêtes and Aegikoreis were traditional in Athens and some other Ionian cities, though they seem to have had no importance in historical times and the meaning of the names is not known. The Dorians were divided into three tribes, the Ionians into four. The idea of making Dorus and Achaios Ionians of a younger and less divine branch would not be seriously considered outside the Ionian regions. The thought behind it is perhaps that the Athenians, the fathers of Ionia, are real aborigines, born of the soil, whereas the Dorians, and possibly the Achaeans too were only invaders. GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD _London: 40 Museum Street, W.C.1_ _Auckland: Haddon Hall, City Road_ _Sydney, N.S.W.: Bradbury House, 55 York Street_ _Cape Town: 58-60 Long Street_ _Bombay: 15 Graham Road, Ballard Estate, Bombay 1_ _Calcutta: 17 Chittaranjan Avenue, Calcutta 13_ _New Delhi: Munshi Niketan, Kamla Market, Ajmeri Gate, New Delhi 1_ _Karachi: Haroon Chambers, South Napier Road, Karachi 2_ _Toronto: 91 Wellington Street West_ _Sao Paulo: Avenida 9 de Julho 1138-Ap. 51_ _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ STOIC, CHRISTIAN AND HUMANIST 6s. net, 2nd Edition SATANISM AND THE WORLD ORDER 2s. net THE ORDEAL OF THIS GENERATION La. 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Cornford, Harley Granville-Barker, Professor D. S. Margoliouth, Mrs. W. H. Salter, Professor J. A. K. Thomson, Professor A. J. Toynbee. Transcriber's Notes: The line numbers refer to the lines in the original Greek text, not the lines as translated. The following textual changes have been made:-- P. 7 "in another account of the birth of Heracles," changed to "In another account of the birth of Heracles," P. 24 "But see who comes, 'Tis she." changed to "But see who comes. 'Tis she." P. 72 "Alone; in that cave were the wrong was done." changed to "Alone; in that cave where the wrong was done." Pp. 117-8 Note ref. to P. 15, l. 58 put in correct order. P. 118 "opportunites of rapid movement," changed to "opportunities of rapid movement," In Notes punctuation inconsistencies retained. P. 120 "_Is it true in God's name ...?_" changed to "_Is it true in God's name ...?_]" P. 124 "_Thou art fallen fallen and all thy father's pride._]" changed to "_Thou art fallen, fallen, and all thy father's pride._]" P. 126 "called the "surffagette Chorus."" changed to "called the "suffragette Chorus."" P. 127 "_Bull-horned Cephîsus._]" changed to "_Bull-horned Cephîsus._]" [End of Ion, by Euripides, translated by Gilbert Murray]