Thyestes: Act V

Atreus [entering exultingly]: The peer of stars I move, high overall,And with exalted head attain the heavens!Now are the reins of power within my hands,And I am master of my father's throne.I here renounce the gods, for I have gainedThe height of my desires. It is enough,And even I am satisfied. But why?Nay, rather, will I finish my revenge,And glut the father with his feast of death.The day has fled, lest shame should hold me back;Act then, while yet the darkness veils the sky.Oh, that I might restrain the fleeing gods,And force them to behold the avenging feast!But 'tis enough, if but the father sees.Though daylight aid me not, yet will I snatchThe shrouding darkness from thy miseries.Too long with care-free, cheerful countenanceThou liest at the feast. Now food enough,And wine enough. For so great ills as these,Thyestes must his sober senses keep.Ye menial throng, spread wide the temple doors,The festal hall reveal. 'Tis sweet to noteThe father's frantic grief when first he seesHis children's gory heads; to catch his words,To watch his color change; to see him sit,All breathless with the shock, in dumb amaze,In frozen horror at the gruesome sight.This is the sweet reward of all my toil--To see his misery, e'en as it growsUpon his soul.Now gleams with many a torchThe spacious banquet hall. See, there he liesUpon his golden couch all richly deckedWith tapestry, his wine-befuddled headUpstayed upon his hand. Oh, happy me!The mightiest of the heavenly gods am I,And king of kings! The fondest of my hopesIs more than realized. His meal is done;Now raises he his silver cup to drink.Spare not the wine; there still remains the bloodOf thy three sons, and 'twill be well disguisedWith old red wine. Now be the revel done.Now let the father drink the mingled bloodOf his own offspring; mine he would have drunk.But see, he starts to sing a festal song,With mind uncertain and with senses dim.

Thyestes [sits alone at the banquet table, half overcome with wine;he tries to sing and be gay, but in spite of this, somevague premonition of evil weighs upon his spirit]:O heart, long dulled with wretchedness,Put by at last thine anxious cares.Oh, now let grief and fear depart;Let haunting hunger flee away,The grim companion of the lotOf trembling exiles; and disgrace,A heavy load for mourning souls.More boots it from what height thou fall'st,Than to what depth. How noble is't,When fallen from the pinnacle,With dauntless step and firm, to treadThe lowly plain; and noble too,Though by a mass of cares o'erwhelmed,To bolster up the shattered throneWith neck unbending; and with soulHeroic, undismayed by ills,To stand erect beneath the weightOf ruined fortunes.But away,Ye gloomy clouds of fate; ye marksOf former misery, depart.Thy happy fortune greet with faceOf joy, and utterly forgetThe old Thyestes. But alas!This fault is linked with wretchedness,That never can the woeful soulAccept returned prosperity.Though kindly fortune smile again,He who has suffered finds it hardTo give himself to joy. But whyDost thou restrain me? Why forbidTo celebrate this festal day?Why wouldst thou have me weep, O grief,For no cause rising? Why with flowers,Dost thou forbid to wreathe my hair?It does, it does forbid! For see,Upon my head the flowers of springHave withered; and my festal locks,Though dripping with the precious nard,Stand up in sudden dread; my cheeks,That have no cause to weep, are wetWith tears; and in the midst of speechI groan aloud. No doubt 'tis true,That grief, well trained in weeping, lovesTo melt away in tears; and oftThe wretched feel a strong desireTo weep their fill. E'en so I longTo cry aloud my wretchedness,To rend these gorgeous Tyrian robes,And shriek my misery to heaven.My mind gives intimation darkOf coming grief, its own distressForeboding. So the sailor fearsThe raging tempest's near approach,When tranquil waters heave and swell,Without a breath of wind. Thou fool,What grief, what rising storm of fateDost thou imagine nigh? Nay, nay,Believe thy brother; for thy fear--'Tis groundless, whatsoe'er it be,Or thou dost fear too late. Ah me,I would not be unhappy now;But in my soul dim terror stalks,Nor can my eyes withhold their tears;And all for naught. What can it be?Am I possessed by grief or fear?Or can this some great rapture be,That weeps for joy?

Atreus [greeting his brother with effusive affection]:With one consent, my brother, let us keepThis festal day. For this the happy dayWhich shall the scepter 'stablish in thy hand,And link our family in the bonds of peace.

Thyestes [pushing the remains of the feast from him]:Enough of food and wine! One thing aloneCan swell my generous sum of happiness--If with my children I may share my joy.

Atreus: Believe that in the father's bosom restThe sons; both now and ever shall they beWith thee. No single part of these thy sonsShall e'er be taken from thee. Make request:What thou desirest will I freely give,And fill thee with thy loving family.Thou shalt be satisfied; be not afraid.E'en now thy children, mingled with my own,Enjoy alone their youthful festival.They shall be summoned hither. Now beholdThis ancient cup, an heirloom of our house.Take thou and drink the wine which it contains.

Thyestes: I take my brother's proffered gift. But firstUnto our father's gods we'll pour a share,And then will drink the cup.But what is this?My hands will not obey my will; the cup--How heavy it has grown, how it resistsMy grasp! And see how now the wine itself,Though lifted to my mouth, avoids the touch,And flees my disappointed lips. Behold,The table totters on the trembling floor;The lights burn dim; the very air is thick,And, by the natural fires deserted, standsAll dull and lifeless 'twixt the day and night.What can it all portend? Now more and moreThe shattered heavens seem tottering to their fall;The darkness deepens, and the gloomy nightIn blacker night is plunged. And all the starsHave disappeared. Whatever this may mean,Oh, spare my children, brother, spare, I pray;And let this gathering storm of evil burstUpon my head. Oh, give me back my sons!

Atreus: Yes, I will give them back, and never moreShall they be taken from thy fond embrace.

Thyestes: What is this tumult rising in my breast?Why do my vitals quake? I feel a loadUnbearable, and from my inmost heartCome groans of agony that are not mine.My children, come! your wretched father calls.Oh come! For when mine eyes behold you here,Perchance this care will pass away.--But whenceThose answering calls?

Atreus [returning, with a covered platter in his hands]:Now spread thy loving arms.See, here they are.Dost recognize thy sons?

Thyestes: I recognize my brother! How, O Earth,Canst thou endure such monstrous crime as this?Why dost thou not to everlasting shadeAnd Styx infernal cleave a yawning gulf,And sweep away to empty nothingnessThis guilty king with all his realm? And whyDost thou not raze, and utterly destroyThe city of Mycenae? Both of usShould stand with Tantalus in punishment.If, far below the depths of Tartarus,There is a deeper hell, O Mother Earth,Thy strong foundations rend asunder wide,And send us thither to that lowest pit.There let us hide beneath all Acheron;Let damnéd shades above our guilty headsGo wandering; let fiery PhlegethonIn raging torrent pour his burning sandsAbove our place of exile.But the earthInsensate lies, and utterly unmoved.The gods have fled.

Atreus: Nay, come with thankful heartReceive thy sons whom thou hast long desired.Enjoy them, kiss them, share among the threeThy fond embraces.

Thyestes: And is this thy bond?Is this thy grace, thy fond fraternal faith?So dost thou cease to hate? I do not askThat I may have my sons again unharmed;But what in crime and hatred may be given,This I, a brother, from a brother ask:That I may bury them. Restore my sons,And thou shalt see their corpses burned at once.The father begs for naught that he may keep,But utterly destroy.

Atreus: Thou hast thy sons,Whate'er of them remains; thou also hastWhate'er does not remain.

Thyestes: What hast thou done?Hast fed them to the savage, greedy birds?Have beasts of prey devoured their tender flesh?Atreus: Thou hast thyself that impious banquet made.

Thyestes: Oh, then, 'twas this that shamed the gods of heaven,And drove the day in horror back to dawn!Ah me, what cries shall voice, what plaints expressMy wretchedness? Where can I find the wordsThat can describe my woe? The severed headsAnd hands and mangled feet are there; for theseTheir sire, for all his greed, could not devour.But Oh, I feel within my vitals nowThat horrid thing which struggles to be free,But can no exit find. Give me the sword,Which even now is reeking with my blood,That it may set my children free from me.Thou wilt not give it me? Then let my breastResound with crushing blows--but hold thy hand,Unhappy one, and spare the imprisoned shades.Oh, who has ever seen such crime as this?What dweller on the rough and hostile cragsOf Caucasus, or what Procrustes dire,The terror of the land of Attica?Lo I, the father, overwhelm my sons,And by those very sons am overwhelmed.Is there no limit to this crime of thine?

Atreus: When one for its own sake commits a crime,There is a proper limit; but no endIs possible when vengeance through the crimeIs sought. E'en as it is, this deed of mineIs all too mild. I should have poured their bloodStraight from their gaping wounds into thy mouth,That thou mightst drink their very streams of life.But there my wrath was cheated of its dueBy overhaste.I smote them with the sword,I slaughtered them before the sacred shrine,And with their blood appeased our household gods;I hewed their lifeless bodies limb from limb;I carved them into bits, and part I seethedIn brazen kettles, part before the fireOn spits I roasted. From their living limbsI carved the tender flesh, and saw it hissAnd sputter on the slender spit, the whileWith my own hands I kept the fire a-blaze.But all these things the father should have done.In this my vengeful grief has fallen short.With impious teeth he tore his slaughtered sons;But still in merciful unconsciousnessThe deed was done and suffered.

Thyestes: O ye seas,Hemmed round by curving shores, give ear to this!Hear too, ye gods, wherever ye have fled.Ye lords of hades, hear; hear, O ye lands;And Night, all black and heavy with the pallOf Tartarus, attend unto my cry;For I am left to thee, and thou aloneDoth look in pity on my wretchedness,Thou, too, forsaken of the friendly stars;For I will raise no wicked prayers to thee,Naught for myself implore--what could I ask?For you, ye heavenly gods, be all my prayers.O thou, almighty ruler of the sky,Who sitt'st as lord upon the throne of heaven,Enwrap the universe in dismal clouds,Incite the winds to war on every side,And let thy thunders crash from pole to pole;Not with such lesser bolts as thou dost useAgainst the guiltless homes of common men,But those which overthrew the triple massOf heaped-up mountains, and those giant forms,Themselves like mountains huge: such arms employ;Hurl down such fires. Avenge the banished day;With thy consuming flames supply the lightWhich has been snatched from out the darkened heaven.Select us both as objects of thy wrath;Or if not both, then me; aim thou at me.With that three-forkéd bolt of thine transfixMy guilty breast. If I would give my sonsTo burning and to fitting burial,I must myself be burned. But if my prayersDo not with heaven prevail, and if no godAims at the impious his fatal shaft;Then may eternal night brood o'er the earth,And hide these boundless crimes in endless shade.If thou, O sun, dost to thy purpose hold,And cease to shine, I supplicate no more.

Atreus: Now do I praise my handiwork indeed;Now have I gained the palm of victory.My deed had failed entirely of its aim,Didst thou not suffer thus. Now may I trustThat those I call my sons are truly so,And faith that once my marriage bed was pureHas come again.Thyestes: What was my children's sin?

Atreus: Because they were thy children.

Thyestes: But to thinkThat children to the father--

Atreus: That indeed,I do confess it, gives me greatest joy:That thou art well assured they were thy sons.

Atreus: Why not upon the gods of marriage call?

Thyestes: Why dost thou seek to punish crime with crime?

Atreus: Well do I know the cause of thy complaint:Because I have forestalled thee in the deed.Thou grievest, not because thou hast consumedThis horrid feast, but that thou wast not firstTo set it forth. This was thy fell intent,To arrange a feast like this unknown to me,And with their mother's aid attack my sons,And with a like destruction lay them low.But this one thing opposed--thou thought'st them thine.

Thyestes: The gods will grant me vengeance. Unto themDo I intrust thy fitting penalty.