Thyestes: Act II

Atreus [in soliloquy]: O soul, so sluggish, spiritless, and weak,And (what in kings I deem the last reproach)Still unavenged, after so many crimes,Thy brother's treacheries, and every lawOf nature set at naught, canst vent thy wrathIn vain and meaningless complaints? By nowThe whole wide world should be astir with arms,Thy arms, and on both seas thy ships of warShould swarm; the fields and town's should be ablaze,And gleaming swords should everywhere be seen.Beneath our charging squadrons' thundering treadLet Greece resound; let this my enemyWithin no forest's depths a hiding find.No citadel upon the mountain heightsShall shelter him. Let all the citizens,Mycenae leaving, sound the trump of war.Whoe'er grants refuge to that curséd head,Shall die a dreadful death. This noble pile,The home of our illustrious Pelops' line,I would might fall on me, if only thusIt might destroy my hated brother too.But come, my soul, do what no coming ageShall e'er approve--or e'er forget; some deedMust be attempted, impious, bloody, dire,Such as my brother's self might claim as his.No crime's avenged save by a greater crime.But where the crime that can surpass his deeds?Is he yet crushed in spirit? Does he showIn prosperous circumstances self-control,Contentment in defeat? Full well I knowHis tameless spirit; it can ne'er be bent--But can be broken. Then, before his forceHe strengthens and opposing powers prepares,We must the attack begin, lest, while we wait,He strike us unprepared. For well I knowThat he must either slay me or be slainBy me. There lies the crime between us two:Who leaps to grasp it first, the crime shall do.

Attendant: But does the evil fame of such a deedDeter you not?

Atreus: The greatest blessing thisOf royal power, that men are forced to praiseTheir monarchs' deeds as well as bear them.

Attendant: Yea,But they whose praise is forced by fear becomeBy that same fear in turn the bitterest foes.But he who seeks the people's heartfelt praise,Will wish their hearts and not their tongues to speak.

Atreus: True praise may often fall to humble men,But false alone to kings. Let subjects learnTo want what they would not.

Attendant: Let monarchs learnTo choose the right; then all will choose the same.

Atreus: When kings are forced to choose the right alone,Their rule is insecure.

Attendant: Where is no shame,No thought of righteousness, no piety,No faith, no purity, Oh, then indeedThat rule is insecure.

Atreus: But purity,Faith, piety, are private virtues all;With kings, their will is law.

Attendant: Oh, count it wrongTo harm thy brother, though he basest be.

Atreus: Whatever may not lawfully be doneTo brothers, may with perfect right be doneTo him. What is there left me now unstainedBy crime of his? Where has he failed to sin?My wife has he debauched, my kingdom stolen,The ancient emblem of our dynastyBy fraud obtained, and all our royal houseBy that same fraud in dire confusion plunged.There is a flock within our royal stalls,Rich fleeced and nobly bred, and with the flockA ram, their leader, wondrous, magical;For from his body thickly hangs a fleeceOf fine-spun gold, with which the new-crowned kingsOf Pelops' line are wont t' adorn their scepters.Who owns the ram is king, for with his fateThe fortunes of our noble house are linked.This sacred ram in safety feeds apartWithin a mead whose fateful bounds are fencedBy stony walls, and kept with gate of stone.Him, greatly daring, did my brother steal,Perfidious, with my wife in secret leagueOf crime. And this has been the fountain springOf all my woes; throughout my kingdom's lengthHave I a trembling exile wandered long,And found no place of safety from his snares;My wife has he defiled, my subjects' faithAnd loyalty destroyed, my house o'erthrown,All ties of kinship broken, and nothing leftOf which I may be sure save only this--My brother's enmity. Why do I standIn stupid inactivity? At lengthBestir thyself, and gird thy courage up.Think thou on Pelops and on Tantalus;Such deeds as theirs must by my hands be done.Tell thou me then how vengeance may be won.

Attendant: Drive out his hostile spirit with the sword.

Atreus: Thou speakest of the end of punishment,But I the punishment itself desire.Let easy-going rulers slay their foes;In my domain death is a longed-for boon.

Attendant: Do pious motives stir thee not at all?

Atreus: Away, O Piety, if ever thouDidst dwell within my house, and in thy steadLet come dire furies' cohorts, fiends at war,Megaera holding high in either handHer flaming torch; for with a mighty rage'Tis not enough my heart should be inflamed:I fain would be by greater horrors filled.Attendant: What new design does thy mad soul conceive?

Atreus: No deed within the accustomed bounds of grief.I'll leave no crime undone; and yet no crimeIs bad enough for me.

Atreus: 'Tis not enough.

Attendant: What weapon then will thy mad passion use?

Atreus: Thyestes' self.

Atreus: I do confess it. Deep within my heart,A fearful tumult rages unrestrained,And I am hurried on, I know not where;I only know that I am hurried on.From lowest depths a moaning sound is heard,And thunders rumble in the cloudless skies;A crashing noise resounds throughout the houseAs though 'twere rent in twain; upon my hearthThe frightened Lares turn their gaze from me.Yet this shall be, this awful thing shall be,Ye gods, which ye do fear to think upon.

Attendant: What then is this which thou dost meditate?

Atreus: Some greater evil lurks within my soul,And, monstrous, swells beyond all human bounds,My sluggish hands impelling to the deed.I know not what it is; but this I know,That 'tis some monstrous deed. So let it be.Haste thee and do this deed, O soul of mine!'Tis worthy of Thyestes--and of me.Let both perform it then. The Odrysian houseWas wont to look on feasts unspeakable--monstrous thing, 'tis true, but long agoPerformed. This grief of mine some greater sinMust find to feed upon. Do thou inspireMy heart, O Daulian Procne, who didst knowA mother's and a sister's feelings too.Our cause is similar. Assist thou then,And nerve my hand to act. Let once againA sire with joyous greed his children rend,And hungrily devour their flesh. 'Tis good,'Tis quite enough. This mode of punishmentSo far doth please me well. But where is he?Why do the hands of Atreus rest so longInactive? Even now before mine eyesThe perfect image of the slaughter comes;I seem to see the murdered children heapedBefore their father's face. O timid soul,Why dost thou fear? Why droops thy courage nowBefore the deed is done? Then up, and dare.Of this mad crime the most revolting partThyestes' self shall do.

Attendant: But by what wilesShall we unto our snares entice his feet?For he doth count us all his enemies.

Atreus: He never could be taken, were his willNot bent on taking too. E'en now he hopesTo take my kingdom from me. In this hope,He'll rush against the bolts of threat'ning Jove;This hope will make him brave the whirlpools' wrath,And sail within the treacherous Libyan shoals;On this hope stayed, the greatest ill of allWill he have strength to bear--the sight of me.

Attendant: But who will give him confidence in peace?To whom will he such weighty credence give?

Atreus: His wicked hope is ready to believe.Yet shall my sons this message bear from me:Now let the wretched exile roam no more,But leave his homeless state for royal halls,And rule at Argos, sharer of my throne.But if Thyestes harshly spurn my prayer,His guileless children, overspent with woesAnd easily beguiled, will bend his willUnto their prayers. His ancient thirst for power,Together with his present poverty,And harsh demands of toil will move the man,However stubborn, by their weight of woes.Attendant: But time by now has made his troubles light.

Atreus: Nay; sense of wrong increases day by day.'Tis easy to bear hardship for a time;But to endure it long, an irksome task.

Attendant: Choose other servants of thy grim design.

Atreus: Young men lend ready ear to base commands.

Attendant: Beware, lest what against their uncle nowThou teachest them, they turn against their sireIn time to come. Full oft do crimes recoilUpon the man who instigated them.

Atreus: Though none should teach them fraud and ways of crime,The throne itself would teach them. Dost thou fearLest they grow evil? Evil were they born.What thou dost savage, cruel call in me,Dost deem impossible and impious,Perchance my brother even now doth plotAgainst myself.

Attendant: Shall then thy children knowWhat crime they do?

Atreus: Not so, for youthful yearsCannot keep silent faith. They might perchanceBetray the trick. The art of secrecyIs mastered only by the ills of life.

Attendant: And wilt thou then deceive the very onesThrough whom thou plann'st another to deceive?

Atreus: That so they may themselves be free from guilt.For what the need of implicating themIn crimes of mine? Nay, through my acts aloneMy hate shall work its ends. But hold, my soul,Thou doest ill, thou shrinkest from the task.If thou dost spare thine own, thou sparest hisAs well. So then let Agamemnon beThe conscious minister of my designs,And wittingly let Menelaüs helpHis father's plans. And by this test of crime,Let their uncertain birth be put to proof:If they refuse to wage this deadly war,And will not serve my hatred; if they pleadHe is their uncle--then is he their sire.So let them go. But no! a look of fearHas oft revealed the heart. And weighty plans,E'en 'gainst the stoutest will, betray themselves.They shall not know of how great consequenceTheir mission is.And do thou hide it too.

Attendant: No warning do I need, for in my breastIt shall be hid by fear and loyalty.But more shall loyalty prevail with me.

Chorus: At last our royal family,The race of ancient Inachus,Hath quelled the brothers' deadly strifeWhat fatal madness drives you onTo shed by turns each other's blood,And gain the throne through paths of crime?O ye who lust for regal state,Ye know not where true power is found;For riches cannot make a king,Nor Tyrian garments richly dyed,Nor royal crowns upon the brow,Nor portals glittering with gold.But he is king who knows no fear,Whose heart is free from mad desires;Whom vain ambition moveth not,Nor fickle favor of the mob.The hidden treasures of the westMove not his heart, nor sands of goldWhich Tagus' waters sweep alongWithin their shining bed;Nor yet the garnered wealth of grainTrod out on Libyan threshing-floors.He fears no hurtling thunderboltIn zig-zag course athwart the sky;No Eurus ruffling up the sea,Nor the heaving Adriatic's waves,Windswept and mad before the blast;No hostile spear, nor keen, bare swordCan master him; but, set on high,In calm serenity he seesAll things of earth beneath his feet.And so with joy he goes to meetHis fate, and welcomes death.In vain 'gainst him would kings contend,Though from all lands they congregate--They who the scattered Dacians lead;Who dwell upon the red sea's margeWhose depths are set with gleaming pearls;Or who, secure on Caspian heights,Leave all unclosed their mountain waysAgainst the bold Sarmatians;They who through Danube's swelling wavesDare make their way with fearless feet,And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoilThe famed and far-off Serians:In vain all these, for 'tis the soulThat makes the king. He needs no arms,No steeds, no ineffectual dartsSuch as the Parthian hurls from farIn simulated flight; for himNo engines huge with far-hurled rocksLay waste the hostile city's walls.But he is king who knows no fear,And he is king who has no lust;And on his throne secure he sitsWho is self-crowned by conscious worth.Let him who will, in pride of power,Upon the brink of empire stand:For me, be sweet repose enough;In humble station fixed, would IMy life in gentle leisure spend,In silence, all unknown to fame.So when my days have passed awayFrom noisy, restless tumult free,May I, in meek obscurityAnd full of years, decline in death.But death lies heavily on himWho, though to all the world well known,Is stranger to himself alone.