Stasimon 4
[Episode]
Is it fancy, or did I just now hear some cry of grief rushing through the house?
First Semi-Chorus
What is this?
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Second Semi-Chorus
It is no uncertain sound, but a wail of anguish from inside. The house has some new trouble.
Chorus
And note how strangely, with what consternation on her brow
that old woman approaches to give us some news.
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Nurse
Ah, my daughters, great, indeed, are the sorrows for us that began with the gift sent to Heracles!
Chorus
Old woman, what new trouble have you to tell?
Nurse
Deianeira has departed on the last
of all her journeys, departed without stirring a foot.
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Chorus
Surely you do not mean she is dead?
Chorus
Dead, the poor woman?
Nurse
Again you hear me affirm it.
Chorus
Poor, lost one! Tell me, what was the manner of her death?
Nurse
Oh, it was most cruel in its execution!
woman, with what end did she meet?
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Nurse
She destroyed herself.
Chorus
What impulse drove her? What disease of her mind seized her on the point of its evil shaft? How did she contrive
this death upon death, accomplishing it all on her own?
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Nurse
By a stroke of the sword which gives cause for mourning.
Chorus
Did you witness that violent deed, poor helpless one?
Nurse
I did, yes, since I was standing close by.
Chorus
What was it? How was it done? Oh, speak!
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Nurse
Of her own accord she set her hand to the deed.
Chorus
What are you saying?
Chorus
The firstborn, the firstborn of that newly arisen bride is
a great Erinys on this house!
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Nurse
Too true. And had you been close at hand and seen her do it, you would have pitied her even more.
Chorus
And could a woman’s hand dare to carry out such deeds?
Nurse
Yes, with fierce daring. You shall hear, and then you will bear me witness.
When she came alone into the house and saw her son preparing a deep litter in the court, with which to go back and meet his father, she hid herself where none would see. Falling before the altars, she moaned that
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they were left desolate, and whenever she touched any household thing that she, poor lady, had habitually used in the past, her tears would flow. If, as she roamed hither and thither through the house, she beheld the form of any well-loved servant, she wept in misery at the sight,
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crying aloud upon her own fate, and her childless existence thereafter.
But when she finished this, I saw her suddenly rush into the bedchamber of Heracles. I hid in the shadows to keep my observation secret and was watching over her
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when I saw her spread coverings on the bedstead of Heracles. When she had done this, she sprang up on them and sat in the middle of the bed. Then she broke out in warm streams of tears
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and said: “Ah, my bridal bed and bridal chamber, farewell now and for ever, since you will never more receive me in these covers as his wife.” She says no more, but with a vehement hand she loosens her robe where the brooch of beaten gold
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lies above her breasts and bares all her left side and arm. Then I run with all my strength, and warn her son of her intent. But even in the space between my going and our return,
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we find that she has driven a two-edged sword up through her side to the heart. At that sight, her son gave a great cry. For he knew, poor boy, that in his anger he had driven her to that action. He had learned too late from the servants in the house
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that she had acted without knowledge and at the will of the monster. Then and there the youth in his misery left no cry of grief unmade as he lamented over her, nor as he fell to kiss her lips; he threw himself at her side, loudly moaning
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that he had rashly attacked her with a false accusation and weeping that he must now live orphaned of both alike, of his father and of her.
Such are the fortunes of this house. Rash, indeed, is he who reckons on tomorrow, or perchance on days beyond it.
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There is no tomorrow, until today is safely past. Exit the Nurse.
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[Choral 1]
Which disaster shall I bewail first? Which is more to be pitied? In my grief I cannot decide.
Chorus
One sorrow may be seen in the house; for one we wait with apprehension. To have and to await are one and the same.
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[Choral 2]
oh, that some strong breeze, a fair wind, might arise at our hearth
Chorus
to bear me far from this land, so that I might not die of terror when I look but once
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upon the mighty seed of Zeus! For they say that he is approaching the house in torments from which there is no deliverance, a wonder of unutterable woe.
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Ah, he was not far off, but close to us, he for whom I cried in advance, like the shrill nightingale! Here is a foreign procession of strange men. And in what manner, then, do they bring him? In sorrow, as for some loved one, they tread their mournful, noiseless tread. Ah, he is carried on in silence!
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Should I think that he is dead, or just asleep?
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