Stasimon 3
[Episode]
Ah me! would I were dead!
Creusa
O woe is me for my calamity! Mine is a heritage of suffering and woe that poisons life, good friends.
Old Servant
Ah, my child, ’tis death to us!
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Creusa
Ah me! ah me! grief drives its weapon through this heart of mine.
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Old Servant
Stay thy lamentations.
Creusa
Nay, but sorrow lodges here.
Old Servant
Till we learn—
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Creusa
Ah, what further news is there for me?
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Old Servant
Whether our master is in the same plight and shares thy misfortune, or thou art alone in thy misery.
Chorus
On him, old sir, Loxias hath bestowed a son,
and he is enjoying his good fortune apart from her.
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Creusa
Herein hast thou declared a further evil crowning all, a grief for me to mourn.
Old Servant
The child of whom thou speakest—is he some woman’s destined babe, or did the god declare the fate of one already born?
Chorus
A youth already born and grown to man’s estate doth Phoebus give to him; for I was there myself.
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Creusa
What sayest thou? nor tongue nor lip should speak the word thou tellest me.
Old Servant
And me. But declare more clearly how this oracle is finding its fulfilment, and say who is the child.
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Chorus
Whomso thy husband first should meet as he issued from the shrine, him the god gave him for his son.
Creusa
Ah me! my fate, it seems, has doomed me to a childless
life, and all forlorn am I to dwell in ray halls, without an heir.
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Old Servant
To whom did the oracle refer? whom did our poor lady’s husband meet? how and where did he see him?
Chorus
Dear mistress mine, dost know that youth
that was sweeping yonder shrine? He is that son.
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Creusa
Oh! for wings to cleave the liquid air beyond the land of Hellas, away to the western stars, so keen the anguish of my soul, my friends!
Old Servant
Dost know the name his father gave to him, or is that left as yet unsettled and unsaid?
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Chorus
He called him Ion, because he was the first to cross his path.
Old Servant
Who is his mother?
Chorus
That I cannot say. But,—to tell thee all I know, old sir,—
her lord is gone, with furtive step, into the hallowed tent, there to offer on this child’s behalf such gifts and victims as are offered for a birth, and with his new-found son to celebrate the feast.
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Old Servant
Mistress mine, we are betrayed by thy husband, fellow-sufferers thou and I; ’tis a deep-laid plot to outrage us
and drive us from Erechtheus’ halls. And this I say not from any hatred of thy lord but because I bear thee more love than him; for he, after coming as a stranger to thy city and thy home, and wedding thee, and of thy heritage taking full possession,
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has been detected in a secret marriage with another woman, by whom he hath children. His secret will I now disclose; when he found thee barren, he was not content to share with thee thy hard lot, but took to himself a slave to be his stealthy paramour
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and thus begat a son, whom he sent abroad, giving him to some Delphian maid to nurse; and, to escape detection, the child was dedicated to the god and reared in his temple. But when he heard his boy was grown to manhood, he persuaded thee to come hither to inquire about thy childless state.
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And after this, ’twas not the god that lied, but thy husband, who long had been rearing the child, and he it was that wove this tissue of falsehood, intending, if he were detected, to refer it to the god, whereas if he escaped exposure, to repel all odium, he meant to vest the sovereignty in this son of his.
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Likewise he devised anew his name, coined to suit the circumstances, Ion, because, as he asserts, he met him on his way.
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Chorus
Ah! how I ever hate the wicked
who plot unrighteousness and then cunningly trick it out. Far rather would I have a virtuous friend of no great intellect than a knave of subtler wit.
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Old Servant
Of all thy wretched fate this will be the crowning sorrow, the bringing to thy house to be its lord some slave-girl’s child, whose mother is unknown, himself of no account. For this evil had been to itself confined,
had he persuaded thee, pleading thy childlessness, to let him establish in the house some high-born mother’s son; or if this had displeased thee, he ought to have sought a daughter of Aeolus in marriage. Wherefore must thou now put thy woman’s wit to work; either take the dagger, or by guile
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or poison slay thy husband and his son, ere they deal out death to thee; since if thou spare him, thou wilt lose thy own life; for when two foes meet beneath one roof, one or the other must rue it.
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Myself too am ready to share this labour with thee, and to help destroy the child when I have made my way into the chamber where he is furnishing the feast, and so repaying my masters for my maintenance I am willing either to die or still behold the light of life. ’Tis but a single thing that brands the slave with shame—
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his name; in all else no upright slave is a whit worse than freeborn men.
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Chorus
I too, beloved mistress, am ready to share thy fate, be it death or victory.
Creusa
Ah! my suffering soul! how am I to keep silence?
Am I to disclose the secrets of my love and lose all claim to modesty? What is there to keep me back any longer? With whom have I to pit myself in virtue’s lists? Hath not my husband proved untrue?
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Home and children, both are torn from me; all hope is dead; I have not realized my wish to set the matter straight, by hushing up my former union and saying naught about my son of sorrow.
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No! by the starry seat of Zeus, by her whose home is on my rocks, and by the hallowed strand of Triton’s mere with brimming flood, I will no more conceal my love; for if
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I can lift that burden from my breast I shall rest easier. With tears my eyes are streaming and my heart is wrung with anguish for the treacherous counsels both of men and gods,—traitors they! as I will show,
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ungrateful traitors to their loves!
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O! thou who dost awake that tuneful lyre with seven strings till to its sweet note of music the lifeless pegs of wild ox-hom resound again,
thou child of Latona, to yon 293 bright orb of thine will I publish thy reproach. Yes, I saw thee come, the glint of gold upon thy locks, as I was gathering in my folded robe the saffron blooms
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that blazed like flowers of gold; and by my lily wrist didst thou catch me and ledst me to the cavern’s bed, what time I cried aloud upon my mother’s name,—thou a god
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to mate with me in shameless wise to pleasure lady Cypris! Then to my sorrow I bore thee a son, whom, though anguish thrilled my mother’s breast, I cast upon that bed of thine,
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where thou didst join in woful wedlock this unhappy maid. Ah! woe is me! that poor babe I bare thee is now no more; winged fowls have tom and devoured him,
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but thou art gaily carolling unto thy lyre some song of joy.
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Hark! thou son of Latona, to thee I call, for that thou dispensest warnings; there at thy golden throne
on earth’s centre planted will I proclaim a word into thy ear. O! thou wicked bridegroom who art bringing to my husband’s house an heir, though from him thou hast received no boon;
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while that child of thine and mine hath died unrecognized, a prey to carrion birds, his mother’s swaddling-clothes all lost. Delos hates thee now, thy bay-tree loves thee not,
whose branches sprout beside the tufted palm, where in holy throes Latona, big with child by Zeus, gave birth to thee.
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Chorus
Ah me! what store of sorrows is here disclosed, enough to draw a tear from every eye!
Old Servant
Daughter, with pity am I filled as a gaze upon thy face; my reason leaves me; for just as I am striving to lighten my spirit of its sea of troubles, comes another wave astern and catches me by reason of thy words; for no sooner hadst thou uttered this tale of present troubles
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than thou didst turn aside into a fresh a track of other woes. What is it thou sayest? What charge against Apollo dost thou bring? What child is this thou dost assert that thou didst bear? Where was it in the city that thou didst expose him, for beasts to rejoice o’er his burial? Tell me once again.
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Creusa
Old friend, although to meet thine eye, I am ashamed, yet will I tell thee.
Old Servant
Full well I know how to lend my friends a generous sympathy.
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Creusa
Then hearken; dost know a cave toward the north of Cecrops’ rock, that we call Macrae?
Old Servant
I know it; there is the shrine of Pan, and his altar hard by.
Creusa
That was the scene of my dire conflict.
Old Servant
What conflict? see how my tears start forth to meet thy words.
940
Creusa
Phoebus forced me to a woful marriage.
Old Servant
Was it then this, my daughter, that I noticed myself?
Creusa
I know not; but I will tell thee if thou speak the truth.
Old Servant
At the time thou wert mourning in secret some hidden complaint?
Creusa
Yes, ’twas then this trouble happened, which now I am declaring to thee.
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Old Servant
How then didst conceal thy union with Apollo?
Creusa
I bore a child; hear me patiently, old friend.
Old Servant
Where? and who helped thy travail? or didst thou labour all alone?
Creusa
All alone, in the cave where I became a wife.
Old Servant
Where is the child? that thou mayst cease thy childless state.
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Creusa
Dead, old friend, to beasts exposed.
Old Servant
Dead? did Apollo, evil god, no help afford?
Creusa
None; my boy is in the halls of Hades.
Old Servant
Who then exposed him? surely not thyself.
Creusa
Myself, when ’neath the gloom of night I had wrapped him in my robe.
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Old Servant
Did no one share thy secret of the babe’s exposure?
Creusa
Ill-fortune and secrecy alone.
Old Servant
How couldst thou in the cavern leave thy babe?
Creusa
Ah! how? but still I did, with many a word of pity uttered o’er him.
Old Servant
Oh for thy hard heart! Oh for the god’s, more hard than thine!
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Creusa
Hadst thou but seen the babe stretch forth his hands to me!
Old Servant
To find thy mother’s breast, to nestle in thy arms?
Creusa
By being kept therefrom he suffered grievous wrong from me.
Old Servant
How earnest thou to think of casting forth thy babe?
Creusa
Methought the god would save his own begotten child.
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Old Servant
Ah me! what storms assail thy family’s prosperity!
Creusa
Why weepest thou, old man, with head close-veiled?
Old Servant
To see the sorrows of thy sire and thee.
Creusa
Such is our mortal life; naught abideth in one stay.
Old Servant
Daughter, let us cease to dwell on themes of woe.
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Creusa
What must I do? Misfortune leaves us helpless.
Old Servant
Avenge thee on the god who first did injure thee.
Creusa
How can I, weak mortal as I am, outrun those mightier powers?
Old Servant
Set fire to Apollo’s awful sanctuary.
Creusa
I am afraid; my present sorrows are enough for me.
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Old Servant
Then what thou canst, that dare—thy husband’s death.
Creusa
Nay, I do respect his former love in the days when he was good and true.
Old Servant
At least, then, slay the boy who hath appeared to supplant thee.
Creusa
How can I? would it were possible! how I wish it were!
Old Servant
Arm thy followers with daggers.
980
Creusa
I will about it; but where is the deed to be done?
Old Servant
In the sacred tent, where he is feasting his friends.
Creusa
The murder will be too public, and slaves are poor support.
Old Servant
Ah! thou art turning coward. Devise some scheme thyself.
Creusa
Well, I too have subtle plans that cannot fail.
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Old Servant
If both conditions they fulfil, I will assist thee.
Creusa
Hearken then; knowest thou the battle of the earth-born men?
Old Servant
Surely; the fight at Phlegra waged by giants against the gods.
Creusa
There Earth brought Gorgon forth, dreadful prodigy.
Old Servant
To aid her sons maybe, and cause the gods hard toil?
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Creusa
Yea, and Pallas, daughter of Zeus, slew the monster.
Old Servant
What savage form had it assumed?
Creusa
A breast-plate of vipers fenced its body.
Old Servant
Is this the tale I heard in days of yore?
Creusa
That Athena wears its skin upon her corslet.
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Old Servant
Is it this that Pallas wears, called by men her aegis?
Creusa
This was the name it received, that day she came to do battle for the gods.
Old Servant
How, daughter, can this harm thy enemies?
Creusa
Hast heard of Erichthonius, or no? of course thou hast.
Old Servant
Him whom Earth produced, the founder of thy race?
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Creusa
To him whilst yet a babe did Pallas give—
Old Servant
Ha! what? thou hast something yet to add?
Creusa
Two drops of Gorgon’s blood.
Old Servant
What power could they exert on the nature of a human creature?
Creusa
The one with death is fraught, the other cures disease.
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Old Servant
What held them when she tied them to the child’s body?
Creusa
With links of gold she fastened them; this to my sire did Erichthonius give.
Old Servant
And at his death it came to thee?
Creusa
Yea, and here at my wrist I wear it.
Old Servant
How works the spell of this double gift of Pallas?
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Creusa
Each drop of gore which trickled from the hollow vein—
Old Servant
What purpose does it serve? what virtue does it carry?
Creusa
Wards off disease, and nourishes man’s life.
Old Servant
What doth that second drop effect, of which thou madest mention?
Creusa
It kills, for it is venom from the Gorgon’s snakes.
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Old Servant
Dost thou carry this charm mixed in one phial, or separate?
Creusa
Separate; for good is no companion for evil.
Old Servant
Daughter dear, thou art fully armed with all thou needest.
Creusa
By this must the boy die, and thou must do the deadly deed.
Old Servant
How and where? thine it is to speak, and mine to dare and do.
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Creusa
In Athens, when to my house he comes.
Old Servant
That is not wisely said; I may object to thy plan as thou to mine.
Creusa
How so? Hast thou the same mistrust that I experience?
Old Servant
Thou wilt get the credit of his death, although thou slay him not.
Creusa
True; men say stepdames are jealous of their husband’s children.
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Old Servant
Kill him here then, that so thou mayst deny the murder.
Creusa
Well, thus I do anticipate the pleasure.
Old Servant
Yea, and thou wilt from thy husband keep the very secret he would keep from thee.
Creusa
Dost know then what to do? Take from my arm
this golden bracelet, Athena’s gift, some ancient craftsman’s work, and seek the spot where my lord is offering secret sacrifice; then when their feasting is o’er and they are about to pour drink-offering to the gods, take this phial in thy robe and pour it into the young man’s goblet;
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not for all, but for him alone, providing a separate draught, who thinks to lord it o’er my house. And if once it pass his lips, never shall he come to glorious Athens, but here abide, of life bereft.
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Old Servant
Go thou within the house of our public hosts;
I the while will set about my appointed task. On! aged foot, grow young again in action, for all that time saith no to thee. Go, aid thy mistress against her enemy, help slay and drag him from her house.
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’Tis well to honour piety in the hour of fortune, but when thou wouldst harm thy foe, no law doth block thy path.
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[Choral 1]
Daughter of Demeter, goddess of highways, queen as thou art of haunting powers of darkness,
Chorus
oh! guide as well the hand that fills by day a cup of death, against those to whom my revered mistress is sending a philtre of the gore that dripped from hellish Gorgon’s severed head,
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yea, ’gainst him who would obtrude upon the halls of the Erechthidae. Never may alien, from alien stock, lord it o’er my city,
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no! none save noble Erechtheus’ sons!
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For if this deadly deed and my lady’s aims pass unfulfilled, and the right moment for her daring go by, and with it the hope which now sustains her, either will she seize the whetted knife
or fasten the noose about her neck, and by ending one sorrow by another will go down to other phases of existence. For never will that daughter of a noble line,
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while life is hers, endure within the sunshine of her eyes the sight of alien rulers in her halls.
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[Choral 2]
I blush for that god of song,
Chorus
if this stranger is to witness the torch-dance, that heralds in the twentieth dawn, around Callichorus’ fair springs, a sleepless votary in midnight revels, what time the star-lit firmament of Zeus,
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the moon, and Nereus’ fifty daughters, that trip it lightly o’er the sea and the eternal rivers’ tides, join the dance in honour
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of the maiden with the crown of gold and her majestic mother; where this vagabond, by Phoebus favoured, thinks to reign, entering into other men’s hard toil.
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Look to it, all ye bards, who, in malicious strains, expose our amours and unholy bonds of lawless love; see how far our
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virtue surpasses man’s disloyalty. Change the burden of your song and keep your spiteful verse to brand man’s faithlessness. For this scion of the stock of Zeus
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shows himself a heedless wight, denying to the mistress of his halls the lot of mutual offspring, and, paying all his court to some strange love,
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hath gotten him a bastard son.
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