Fourth Episode

(As the song ceases the doors are thrown open and ADMETUS comes before them: a great funeral procession is seen moving out.)

ADMETUS.Most gentle citizens, our dead is hereMade ready; and these youths to bear the bierUplifted to the grave-mound and the urn.Now, seeing she goes forth never to return,Bid her your last farewell, as mourners may.

(The procession moves forward, past him.)

LEADER.Nay, lord; thy father, walking old and grey;And followers bearing burial gifts and braveGauds, which men call the comfort of the grave.

(Enter PHERES with followers bearing robes and gifts.)

PHERES.I come in sorrow for thy sorrow, son.A faithful wife indeed thou hast lost, and oneWho ruled her heart. But, howso hard they be,We needs must bear these griefs.--Some gifts for theeAre here.... Yes; take them. Let them go beneathThe sod. We both must honour her in death,Seeing she hath died, my son, that thou mayst liveNor I be childless. Aye, she would not giveMy soul to a sad old age, mourning for thee.Methinks she hath made all women's life to beA nobler thing, by one great woman's deed.Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in needTo our wrecked age, farewell! May some good lifeBe thine still in the grave.--Oh, 'tis a wifeLike this man needs; else let him stay unwed!

(The old man has not noticed ADMETUS'S gathering indignation.)

ADMETUS.I called not thee to burial of my dead,Nor count thy presence here a welcome thing.My wife shall wear no robe that thou canst bring,Nor needs thy help in aught. There was a dayWe craved thy love, when I was on my wayDeathward--thy love, which bade thee stand asideAnd watch, grey-bearded, while a young man died!And now wilt mourn for her? Thy fatherhood!Thou wast no true begetter of my blood,Nor she my mother who dares call me child.Oh, she was barren ever; she beguiledThy folly with some bastard of a thrall.Here is thy proof! This hour hath shown me allThou art; and now I am no more thy son.'Fore God, among all cowards can scarce be oneLike thee. So grey, so near the boundaryOf mortal life, thou wouldst not, durst not, dieTo save thy son! Thou hast suffered her to doThine office, her, no kin to me nor you,Yet more than kin! Henceforth she hath all the partOf mother, yea, and father in my heart.And what a glory had been thine that day,Dying to save thy son--when, either way,Thy time must needs be brief. Thy life has hadAbundance of the things that make men glad;A crown that came to thee in youth; a sonTo do thee worship and maintain thy throne--Not like a childless king, whose folk and landsLie helpless, to be torn by strangers' hands.Wilt say I failed in duty to thine age;For that thou hast let me die? Not so; most sage,Most pious I was, to mother and to thee;And thus ye have paid me! Well, I counsel ye.Lose no more time. Get quick another sonTo foster thy last years, to lay thee onThy bier, when dead, and wrap thee in thy pall.I will not bury thee. I am, for allThe care thou hast shown me, dead. If I have foundAnother, true to save me at the boundOf life and death, that other's child am I,That other's fostering friend, until I die.How falsely do these old men pray for death,Cursing their weight of years, their weary breath!When Death comes close, there is not one that daresTo die; age is forgot and all its cares.

LEADER.Oh, peace! Enough of sorrow in our pathIs strewn. Thou son, stir not thy father's wrath.

PHERES.My son, whom seekest thou ... some Lydian thrall,Or Phrygian, bought with cash?... to affright withalBy cursing? I am a Thessalian, free,My father a born chief of Thessaly;And thou most insolent. Yet think not soTo fling thy loud lewd words at me and go.I got thee to succeed me in my hall,I have fed thee, clad thee. But I have no callTo die for thee. Not in our family,Not in all Greece, doth law bid fathers dieTo save their sons. Thy road of life is thineNone other's, to rejoice at or repine.All that was owed to thee by us is paid.My throne is thine. My broad lands shall be madeThine, as I had them from my father.... Say,How have I wronged thee? What have I kept away?"Not died for thee?"... I ask not thee to die.Thou lovest this light: shall I not love it, I?...'Tis age on age there, in the dark; and hereMy sunlit time is short, but dear; but dear.Thou hast fought hard enough. Thou drawest breathEven now, long past thy portioned hour of death,By murdering her ... and blamest my faint heart,Coward, who hast let a woman play thy partAnd die to save her pretty soldier! Aye,A good plan, surely! Thou needst never die;Thou canst find alway somewhere some fond wifeTo die for thee. But, prithee, make not strifeWith other friends, who will not save thee so.Be silent, loving thine own life, and knowAll men love theirs!... Taunt others, and thou tooShalt hear much that is bitter, and is true.

LEADER.Too much of wrath before, too much hath runAfter. Old man, cease to revile thy son.

ADMETUS.Speak on. I have spoken.... If my truth of tongueGives pain to thee, why didst thou do me wrong?

PHERES.Wrong? To have died for thee were far more wrong.

ADMETUS.How can an old life weigh against a young?

PHERES.Man hath but one, not two lives, to his use.

ADMETUS.Oh, live on; live, and grow more old than Zeus!

PHERES.Because none wrongs thee, thou must curse thy sire?

ADMETUS.I blest him. Is not life his one desire?

PHERES.This dead, methinks, is lying in thy place.

ADMETUS.A proof, old traitor, of thy cowardliness!

PHERES.Died she through me?... That thou wilt hardly say.

ADMETUS (almost breaking down).O God!Mayst thou but feel the need of me some day!

PHERES.Go forward; woo more wives that more may die.

ADMETUS.As thou wouldst not! Thine is the infamy.

PHERES.This light of heaven is sweet, and sweet again.

ADMETUS.Thy heart is foul. A thing unmeet for men.

PHERES.Thou laugh'st not yet across the old man's tomb.

ADMETUS.Dishonoured thou shalt die when death shall come.

PHERES.Once dead, I shall not care what tales are told.

ADMETUS.Great Gods, so lost to honour and so old!

PHERES.She was not lost to honour: she was blind.

ADMETUS.Go! Leave me with my dead.... Out from my mind!

PHERES.I go. Bury the woman thou hast slain....Her kinsmen yet may come to thee with plainQuestion. Acastus hath small place in goodMen, if he care not for his sister's blood.

(PHERES goes off, with his Attendants. ADMETUS calls after him as he goes.)

ADMETUS.Begone, begone, thou and thy bitter mate!Be old and childless--ye have earned your fate--While your son lives! For never shall ye beFrom henceforth under the same roof with me....Must I send heralds and a trumpet's callTo abjure thy blood? Fear not, I will send them all....

(PHERES is now out of sight; ADMETUS drops his defiance and seems like a broken man.)

But we--our sorrow is upon us; comeWith me, and let us bear her to the tomb.

CHORUS.Ah me!Farewell, unfalteringly brave!Farewell, thou generous heart and true!May Pluto give thee welcome due,And Hermes love thee in the grave.Whate'er of blessèd life there beFor high souls to the darkness flown,Be thine for ever, and a throneBeside the crowned Persephonê.

(The funeral procession has formed and moves slowly out, followed by ADMETUS and the CHORUS. The stage is left empty, till a side door of the Castle opens and there comes out a SERVANT, angry and almost in tears.)

SERVANT.Full many a stranger and from many a landHath lodged in this old castle, and my handServed them; but never has there passed this wayA scurvier ruffian than our guest to-day.He saw my master's grief, but all the moreIn he must come, and shoulders through the door.And after, think you he would mannerlyTake what was set before him? No, not he!If, on this day of trouble, we left outSome small thing, he must have it with a shout.Up, in both hands, our vat of ivy-woodHe raised, and drank the dark grape's burning blood,Strong and untempered, till the fire was redWithin him; then put myrtle round his headAnd roared some noisy song. So had we thereDiscordant music. He, without a careFor all the affliction of Admetus' halls,Sang on; and, listening, one could hear the thrallsIn the long gallery weeping for the dead.We let him see no tears. Our master madeThat order, that the stranger must not know.So here I wait in her own house, and doService to some black thief, some man of prey;And she has gone, has gone for ever away.I never followed her, nor lifted highMy hand to bless her; never said good-bye....I loved her like my mother. So did allThe slaves. She never let his anger fallToo hard. She saved us alway.... And this wild beastComes in our sorrow when we need him least!

(During the last few lines HERACLES has entered, unperceived by the SERVANT. He has evidently bathed and changed his garments and drunk his fill, and is now revelling, a garland of flowers on his head. He frightens the SERVANT a little from time to time during the following speech.)

HERACLES.Friend, why so solemn and so cranky-eyed?'Tis not a henchman's office, to show prideTo his betters. He should smile and make good cheer.There comes a guest, thy lord's old comrade, here;And thou art all knitted eyebrows, scowls and headBent, because somebody, forsooth, is dead!Come close! I mean to make thee wiser.

(The SERVANT reluctantly comes close.)

So.Dost comprehend things mortal, how they grow?...(To himself)I suppose not. How could he?...Look this way!Death is a debt all mortal men must pay;Aye, there is no man living who can sayIf life will last him yet a single day.On, to the dark, drives Fortune; and no forceCan wrest her secret nor put back her course....I have told thee now. I have taught thee. After thisEat, drink, make thyself merry. Count the blissOf the one passing hour thine own; the restIs Fortune's. And give honour chiefliestTo our lady Cypris, giver of all joysTo man. 'Tis a sweet goddess. Otherwise,Let all these questions sleep and just obeyMy counsel.... Thou believest all I say?I hope so.... Let this stupid grieving be;Rise up above thy troubles, and with meDrink in a cloud of blossoms. By my soul,I vow the sweet plash-music of the bowlWill break thy glumness, loose thee from the frownWithin. Let mortal man keep to his ownMortality, and not expect too much.To all your solemn dogs and other suchScowlers--I tell thee truth, no more nor less--Life is not life, but just unhappiness.

(He offers the wine-bowl to the SERVANT, who avoids it.)

SERVANT.We know all this. But now our fortunes beNot such as ask for mirth or revelry.

HERACLES.A woman dead, of no one's kin; why grieveSo much? Thy master and thy mistress live.

SERVANT.Live? Man, hast thou heard nothing of our woe?

HERACLES.Yes, thy lord told me all I need to know.

SERVANT.He is too kind to his guests, more kind than wise.

HERACLES.Must I go starved because some stranger dies?

SERVANT.Some stranger?--Yes, a stranger verily!

HERACLES (his manner beginning to change).Is this some real grief he hath hid from me?

SERVANT.Go, drink, man! Leave to us our master's woes.

HERACLES.It sounds not like a stranger. Yet, God knows...

SERVANT.How should thy revelling hurt, if that were all?

HERACLES.Hath mine own friend so wronged me in his hall?

SERVANT.Thou camest at an hour when none was freeTo accept thee. We were mourning. Thou canst seeOur hair, black robes...

HERACLES (suddenly, in a voice of thunder).Who is it that is dead?

SERVANT.Alcestis, the King's wife.

HERACLES (overcome).What hast thou said?Alcestis?... And ye feasted me withal!

SERVANT.He held it shame to turn thee from his hall.

HERACLES.Shame! And when such a wondrous wife was gone!

SERVANT (breaking into tears).Oh, all is gone, all lost, not she alone!

HERACLES.I knew, I felt it, when I saw his tears,And face, and shorn hair. But he won mine earsWith talk of the strange woman and her riteOf burial. So in mine own heart's despiteI crossed his threshold and sat drinking--heAnd I old friends!--in his calamity.Drank, and sang songs, and revelled, my head hotWith wine and flowers!... And thou to tell me not,When all the house lay filled with sorrow, thou!(A pause; then suddenly)Where lies the tomb?--Where shall I find her now?

SERVANT (frightened).Close by the straight Larissa road. The tallWhite marble showeth from the castle wall.

HERACLES.O heart, O hand, great doings have ye doneOf old: up now, and show them what a sonTook life that hour, when she of Tiryns' sod,Electryon's daughter, mingled with her God!I needs must save this woman from the shoreOf death and set her in her house once more,Repaying Admetus' love.... This Death, this blackAnd wingèd Lord of corpses, I will trackHome. I shall surely find him by the graveA-hungered, lapping the hot blood they gaveIn sacrifice. An ambush: then, one spring,One grip! These arms shall be a brazen ring,With no escape, no rest, howe'er he whineAnd curse his mauled ribs, till the Queen is mine!Or if he escape me, if he come not thereTo seek the blood of offering, I will fareDown to the Houses without Light, and bringTo Her we name not and her nameless KingStrong prayers, until they yield to me and sendAlcestis home, to life and to my friend:Who gave me shelter, drove me not awayIn his great grief, but hid his evil dayLike a brave man, because he loved me well.Is one in all this land more hospitable,One in all Greece? I swear no man shall sayHe hath cast his love upon a churl away!

(He goes forth, just as he is, in the direction of the grave. The SERVANT watches a moment and goes back into the hall.)