Stasimon 2
[Episode]
But look! I see the children of Heracles who was once so great, wearing the clothes of the dead,
Chorus Leader
and his loving wife dragging her babes along at her side, and Heracles’ aged father. Ah! woe is me! no longer can I stem the flood of tears
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that spring to my old eyes.
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Megara
Come now, who is to sacrifice or butcher these poor children? or rob me of my wretched life? These victims are ready to be led to Hades’ halls. O my children! an ill-matched company are we hurried off to die,
old men and young ones and mothers, all together. Alas! for my sad fate and my children’s, whom these eyes now for the last time behold. So I gave you birth and reared you only for our foes to mock, to jeer at, and slay.
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Ah me! how bitterly my hopes have disappointed me in the expectation I once formed from the words of your father. Addressing each of her three sons in turn. To you your dead father was for giving Argos; and you were to dwell in the halls of Eurystheus, lording it over the fair fruitful land of Argolis;
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and over your head would he throw that lion’s skin with which he himself was armed. And you were to be king of Thebes, famed for its chariots, receiving as your heritage my broad lands, for so you coaxed your dear father;
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and to your hand he used to resign the carved club, his sure defence, pretending to give it to you. And to you he promised to give Oechalia, which once his archery had wasted. Thus with three principalities
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would your father exalt you, his three sons, proud of your manliness; while I was choosing the best brides for you, scheming to link you by marriage to Athens, Thebes, and Sparta, that you might live a happy life with a fast sheet-anchor to hold by.
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And now that is all vanished; fortune’s breeze has veered and given to you for brides the maidens of death in their stead, and my tears will be the marriage bath; woe is me for my foolish thoughts! and your grandfather here is celebrating your marriage-feast, the cares of a father, accepting Hades as the father of your brides.
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Ah me! which of you shall I first press to my bosom, which last? on which bestow my kiss, or clasp close to me? Oh! would that like the bee with russet wing, I could collect from every source my sighs in one, and, blending them together, shed them in one copious flood!
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O my dearest Heracles, to you I call, if perhaps mortal voice can make itself heard in Hades’ halls; your father and children are dying, and I am doomed, I who once because of you was counted blessed as men count bliss. Come to our rescue; appear, I pray, if only as a phantom,
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since your arrival, even as a dream, would be enough, for they are cowards who are slaying your children.
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Amphitryon
Lady, prepare the funeral rites; but I, O Zeus, stretching out my hand to heaven, call on you to help these children,
if such is your intention; for soon any aid of yours will be unavailing; and yet you have been often invoked; my toil is in vain; death seems inevitable. You aged friends, the joys of life are few; so take heed that you pass through it as gladly as you may,
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without a thought of sorrow from morning until night; for time takes little heed of preserving our hopes; and, when he has busied himself on his own business, away he flies. Look at me, a man who had made a mark among his fellows by deeds of note; yet fortune in a single day
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has robbed me of it as of a feather that floats away toward the sky. I know not any whose plenteous wealth and high reputation is fixed and sure; fare you well, for now you have seen the last of your old friend, my comrades.
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Megara
Ah! Old friend, is it my own, my dearest I see? or what am I to say?
Amphitryon
I do not know, my daughter; I too am struck dumb.
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Megara
Is this he who they told us was beneath the earth?It is, unless some day-dream mocks our sight. What am I saying? What visions do these anxious eyes behold? Old man, this is no one other than your own son.
Come here, my children, cling to your father’s robe, hurry, never loose your hold, for here is one to help you, not at all behind our savior Zeus.
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Heracles
All hail! my house and gates of my home, how glad I am to emerge to the light and see you.
Ah! what is this? I see my children before the house in the robes of death, with chaplets on their heads and my wife amid a throng of men, and my father weeping—what misfortune? Let me draw near to them and inquire;
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lady, what strange stroke of fate has fallen on the house?
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Megara
Dearest of all mankind to me!
Amphitryon
O ray of light appearing to your father!
Megara
Are you safe and is your coming just in time to help your dear ones?
Heracles
What do you mean? What is this confusion I find on my arrival, father?
Megara
We are being ruined; forgive me, old friend,
if I have anticipated that to which you had a right to tell him; for women’s nature is perhaps more prone to grief than men’s and they are my children that were being led to death, which was my own lot too.
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Heracles
Apollo! what a prelude to your story!
Megara
My brothers are dead, and my old father.
Heracles
How so? what did he do? whose spear did he meet?
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Megara
Lycus, our new monarch, slew him.
Heracles
Did he meet him in fair fight, or was the land sick and weak?
Megara
Yes, from faction; now he is master of the city of Cadmus with its seven gates.
Heracles
Why has panic fallen on you and my aged father?
Megara
He meant to kill your father, me, and my children.
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Heracles
What are you saying? What did he have to fear from my orphan babes?
Megara
He was afraid they might some day avenge Creon’s death.
Heracles
What is this dress they wear, suited to the dead?
Megara
It is the garb of death we have already put on.
Heracles
And were you being forced to die? O woe is me!
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Megara
Yes, deserted by every friend, and informed that you were dead.
Heracles
What put such desperate thoughts into your heads?
Megara
That was what the heralds of Eurystheus kept proclaiming.
Heracles
Why did you leave my hearth and home?
Megara
He forced us; your father was dragged from his bed.
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Heracles
Had he no shame, to ill-use the old man so?
Megara
Shame indeed! that goddess and he dwell far enough apart.
Heracles
Was I so poor in friends in my absence?
Megara
Who are the friends of a man in misfortune?
Heracles
Do they make so light of my hard warring with the Minyans?
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Megara
Misfortune, to repeat it to you, has no friends.
Heracles
Cast from your heads these chaplets of death, look up to the light, for instead of the darkness below your eyes behold the welcome sun.
I, meanwhile, since here is work for my hand, will first go raze this upstart tyrant’s halls, and when I have beheaded the villain, I will throw him to dogs to tear; and every Theban who I find has played the traitor after my kindness,
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will I destroy with this victorious club; the rest will I tear apart with my feathered shafts and fill Ismenus full of bloody corpses, and Dirce’s clear stream shall run red with gore. For whom ought I to help rather than wife
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and children and aged father? Farewell my labors! for it was in vain I accomplished them rather than helping these. And yet I ought to die in their defence, since they for their father were doomed; or what shall we find so noble in having fought a hydra and a lion
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at the commands of Eurystheus, if I make no effort to save my own children from death? No longer then, as before, shall I be called Heracles the victor.
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Chorus Leader
It is only right that parents should help their children, their aged fathers, and the partners of their marriage.
Amphitryon
My son, it is like you to show your love for your dear ones and your hate for your enemies; only curb excessive hastiness.
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Heracles
How, father, am I now showing more than fitting haste?
Amphitryon
The king has a host of allies, needy villains though pretending to be rich,
who sowed dissension and overthrew the state with a view to plundering their neighbors; for the wealth they had in their houses was all spent, dissipated by their sloth. You were seen entering the city; and, that being so, beware that you do not bring your enemies together and be slain unawares.
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Heracles
Little I care if the whole city saw me; but happening to see a bird perched in an unlucky position, from it I learned that some trouble had befallen my house; so on purpose I made my entry to the land by stealth.
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Amphitryon
Well done; now, on your arrival, go salute your household altar,
and let your father’s halls behold your face. For soon the king will be here in person to drag away your wife and children and murder them, and to add me to the bloody list. But if you remain on the spot all will go well, and you will profit by this security; but do not rouse
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your city before you have these matters well in train, my son.
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Heracles
I will do so; your advice is good; I will enter my house. After my return at length from the sunless den of Hades and the maiden queen of hell, I will not neglect to greet first of all the gods beneath my roof.
Amphitryon
Did you really go to the house of Hades, my son?
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Heracles
Yes, and brought to the light that three-headed monster.
Amphitryon
Did you conquer him in fight, or receive him from the goddess?
Heracles
In fight; for I had been lucky enough to witness the rites of the initiated.
Amphitryon
Is the monster really lodged in the house of Eurystheus?
Heracles
The grove of Demeter and the city of Hermione have him now.
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Amphitryon
Eurystheus does not know that you have returned to the upper world?
Heracles
He does not; I came here first to learn your news.
Amphitryon
How is it you were so long beneath the earth?
Heracles
I stayed awhile attempting to bring back Theseus from Hades, father.
Amphitryon
Where is he? gone to his native land?
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Heracles
He set out for Athens, glad to have escaped from the lower world. Come now, children, attend your father to the house. My entering in is fairer in your eyes, I think, than my going out. Oh, take heart,
and no more let the tears stream from your eyes; you too, my wife, collect your courage, cease from fear; leave go my robe; for I cannot fly away, nor have I any wish to flee from those I love. Ah! they do not loose their hold, but cling to my garments
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all the more; were you on the razor’s edge of danger? Well, I must lead them, taking them by the hand to draw them after me, my little boats, like a ship when towing; for I too do not reject the care of my children; here all mankind are equal; all love their children, both those of high estate
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and those who are nothing; it is wealth that makes distinctions among them; some have, others want; but all the human race loves its offspring.
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[Choral 1]
Dear to me is youth always, but old age is hanging over my head, a burden heavier
Chorus
than Aetna’s crags, casting its pall of gloom upon my eyes. Oh! never may the wealth of Asia’s kings tempt me
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to barter for houses stored with gold my happy youth, which is in wealth and poverty alike most fair! But old age is gloomy and deadly;
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I hate it; let it sink beneath the waves! Would it had never found its way to the homes and towns of mortal men, but were still drifting on for ever down the wind.
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Had the gods shown discernment and wisdom, as mortals count these things, men would have won youth twice over, a visible mark of worth
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among whomever found, and after death these would have run a double course once more to the sun-light, while the low born would have had a single portion of life;
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and thus would it have been possible to distinguish the good and the bad, just as sailors know the number of the stars amid the clouds. But, as it is, the gods have set no certain boundary
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between good and bad, but time’s onward roll brings increase only to man’s wealth.
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[Choral 2]
Never will I cease to link in one the Graces and the Muses,
Chorus
sweetest union. Never may I live among uneducated boors, but ever may I find a place among the crowned!
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Yes, still the aged singer lifts up his voice of bygone memories: still is my song of the triumphs of Heracles, whether Bromius the giver of wine is near, or the strains of the seven-stringed lyre and the Libyan pipe are rising;
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not yet will I cease to sing the Muses’ praise, my patrons in the dance.
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The maids of Delos raise their song of joy, circling round the temple gates in honor of Leto’s fair son,
the graceful dancer; so I with my old lips will cry aloud songs of joy at your palace-doors, like the swan, aged singer; for there is a good
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theme for minstrelsy; he is the son of Zeus; yet high above his noble birth tower his deeds of prowess, for his toil secured this life of calm for man,
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having destroyed all fearsome beasts.
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