This way and that, and still with flagging speed
And slackening mouth make passes at the calves:
So Atreus, still with fury unassuaged,
His sword now reeking with two victims’ blood,
Fell on the third, and with no thought of mercy
For the defenceless child whom he attacked
So violently, pierced the body through;
The sword that entered by the breast was seen
Protruding from the back; the boy fell dead,
His spurting blood damped out the altar fires
And through both wounds his spirit fled away.
CHORUS: Inhuman outrage.
MESSENGER: Do you shudder now?
If this had been the end of his foul deed,
You could have called him innocent.
CHORUS: What more?
What more stupendous, more atrocious crime
Can man conceive?
MESSENGER: No, this was not the end,
Only a step upon the villain’s way.
CHORUS: Could he do more? He threw the bodies out
For beasts to maul – denied them funeral fire?
MESSENGER: Denied them fire! Ah, would that that were so!
Would that he had denied them burial,
Denied them the consuming flames, left them
To be a meal for birds, a hideous banquet
For savage beasts! Well might their father pray
For what most fathers would abhor to see –
The unburied bodies of his sons. O sin
Incredible to any age of man,
And for the men of ages yet to come
A thing to be declared impossible!…
The entrails torn from the warm bodies lay
Quivering, veins still throbbing, shocked hearts beating.
Atreus picked at the pieces, scrutinized
The message of the Fates, noted the signs
In the internal organs hot with blood.
Finding no blemish in the sacrifice,
He was content, and ready to prepare
The banquet for his brother; hacked the bodies
Limb from limb – detached the outstretched arms
Close to the shoulders – severed the ligaments
That tie the elbow joints – stripped every part
And roughly wrenched each separate bone away –
All this he did himself; only the faces,
And trusting suppliant hands, he left intact.
And soon the meat is on the spits, the fat
Drips over a slow fire, while other parts
Are tossed to boil in singing copper pans.
The fire seems loth to touch the roasting flesh;
Two or three times it has to be repaired
To feed the crackling hearth, and still, reluctant
To do as it is told, burns sulkily.
The liver on the spits was heard to squeal;
Which cried the more, the bodies or the fires,
It would be hard to say. Above the flames
A pitch-black smoke ascended, and this too
Refused to rise up to the roof, but hung
A thick and noisome cloud, filling the house
With hideous vapours. Then… O patient Phoebus!
Thy light was sunk in darkness at mid-day
And thou hadst fled – thou shouldst have left us sooner!
The father bites into his children’s bodies,
Chews his own flesh in his accursed mouth.
Drowsy with wine, his glistening hair anointed
With scented oil, he crams his mouth with food
Till it can hold no more. O doomed Thyestes!
This is the one good part of your misfortune:
You know not what you suffer. Not for long
Will this be true. The Lord of Heaven, the Sun
May turn his chariot back and drive away;
Black night may rise untimely from the east,
And total darkness in the midst of day
Veil this atrocious deed; but you must see
And know your own misfortune to the full.
CHORUS
O Father of all earth and all that lives,
Whose rising banishes the lesser lights
That make the dark night beautiful:
Why hast thou turned aside
From thy appointed path?
Why hast thou blotted out the day
And fled from heaven’s centre? Why,
O Phoebus, hast thou turned thy face from us?
Vesper, the herald of the close of day,
Is not yet here to usher in the stars;
Thy wheel has not yet passed the western gate
Where, with their day’s work done,
Thy steeds should be unyoked. We have not heard
The third note of the trumpet telling us
That day is over.
Ploughmen will stand amazed –
Suddenly supper-time, and oxen not yet ready to rest!
What can have forced you, Sun, from your heavenly road?
What can have made your horses bolt from their fixed course?
Are the Giants escaped from their prison and threatening war?
Has tortured Tityos found strength in his breast again to renew his old aggression?
Or has Typhoeus stretched his muscles to throw off his mountain burden?
Is Ossa to be piled on Pelion again
To build a bridge for the Phlegrean Giants’ assault?1
Is all the order of the universe plunged into chaos?
Will there be no more East and no more West?
The mother of the daylight, dewy Dawn,
Who never fails to give the chariot-reins
Into the hands of Phoebus, now with horror sees
Her kingdom’s frontiers in confusion;
It is strange work for her
To lead the tired horses to the water,
To see them sink their steaming necks into the sea.
The Sun himself is like a stranger lost in a strange land,
Meeting the morning as he goes to rest,
Calling for darkness when no night has come.
The stars have not appeared, there is no light in all the sky,
No moon to break the darkness.
What darkness it may be, we cannot tell,
But pray that it be nothing else than night.
This is the fear, the fear that knocks at the heart,
That the whole world is now to fall in the ruin
Which Fate foretells; that Chaos will come again
To bury the world of gods and men; that Nature
A second time will wipe out all the lands
That cover the earth and the seas that lie around them,
And all the stars that scatter their bright lights
Across the universe.
Never again will the Lord of Stars lift his undying fire
To guide the march of time and give his signals to the world
For summer and for autumn. Never again
Will there be Moon to catch the Sun’s fire in her face
And take night’s terrors from us, as she runs, outstripping
Her brother’s pace upon her shorter orbit.
All mingled into one vast void will fall
The multitude of gods.
That belt of constellations that marks out the passage of the years,
The highway of the holy stars that lies oblique across the zones,
Will fall away, and see the stars fall with it.
The Ram, at whose approach, even before the spring’s full warmth,
Ships may spread sails to balmy zephyrs – he who once
Carried the frightened Helle1 over the sea,
Into the sea himself will fall.
The Bull, who holds the Hyades between his shining horns,
Falling will drag the Gemini down, and down will fall
The bent-armed Crab.
Leo, resplendent with the fires of summer,
Victim of Hercules, will fall again.
Virgo will fall, back to the earth that once she knew;
Libra’s true-balanced scales will fall, and after them
Sharp Scorpio. So too the aged Chiron,2
With feathered arrows and Thessalian bow,
Will lose both bow and arrows. Capricornus,
Slow winter’s icy harbinger, will fall and break the urn
Of the unknown one whom we call Aquarius;3
And last of the twelve signs, the Fish, will disappear.
Into the universal deluge will the Wain descend,
Which never touched the sea before;
The Snake, like a meandering river sliding
Between the Bears; and the great Dragon’s smaller neighbour,
The freezing Cynosura;1 and the slow-footed watcher
Beside the wagon, Arctophylax,2 will be shaken
And fall into the deep.
And are we chosen out of all earth’s children
To perish in the last catastrophe
Of a disjointed universe? Are we
To see the world’s end come?
A cruel fate brought us to birth, if we
Have lived to lose the Sun, or if our sins
Have driven him away.
But we must not complain, nor fear;
Too fond of life is he who would not die
When all the world dies with him.
ACT FIVE
Atreus, Thyestes
ATREUS: I walk among the stars! Above the world
My proud head reaches up to heaven’s height!
Mine is the kingdom and the glory now,
Mine the ancestral throne. I need no gods;
I have attained the summit of my wishes.1
Well done – and more than well. I ask no more.…
No more? Enough? Nay, but I will do more.
I will yet see this father eat his fill
Of his dead offspring. Shame need not deter me;
Daylight is gone. Yes… I need have no fear
While heaven itself is empty; gods have fled;
Would I could stop them, drag them back by force
And make them see this banquet of revenge!
Yet he shall see it; that will be enough.
Day hides its face, but I will bring a light
Into your darkness, brother, and unseal
Your sorrows from the night that covers them.
You have sat long enough at your repast,
Now it is time to rouse you from your rest
And change that happy smile. I need Thyestes
Sober, to face so terrible a sight.…
Slaves, open wide the doors! Let all men see
Our hall, our temple of festivity!
Now… to watch his face!… to see its colour
Change, when he sees the faces of his sons!
To listen to his first tormented cries,
To see his body stiffen with the shock
As if struck dead. This will be my reward
For all my pains – I must not only see him
Broken, but watch the breaking when it comes.…
There – now the doors are open and the hall
Is bright with torches. There, upon a couch
Of gold and purple he reclines full length,
His left hand propping up his drunken head.…
His stomach heaves.… Now I am god of gods
And king of kings! My prayers are more than answered.…
He has fed full, and now he drinks again
From a great silver goblet. Drink it up!
There’s blood to spare from all those slaughtered cattle,
Of colour to match well with that old wine.…
Ay, try that cup to finish off the banquet!…
I want to see him drinking up that potion
Made with his children’s blood; he would have drunk
Mine if he could!… Now he begins to sing
A song of jollity… his wits are wandering.
THYESTES: Heart, dulled with long despair,
Rise up, and banish care.
Let fear and sorrow flee;
Begone, chill poverty
That banishment must know.
Begone, the shame
That clings to those brought low.
Man, think not of your plight
When down, but of the height
From which you fell.1 ’Twas good
When, fallen from where you stood
Upon a dizzy peak, you found
Your footing firm on level ground.
’Twas good, that in your state
Of humbled misery
You stood under the weight
Of ruined royalty
With back unbowed and head held high,
An undefeated soul
Courageous in calamity.
Away, then, every mark
Of ill, away the dark
Shadows of destiny!
Greet happy days with happy face;
Forget the old,
And put a new Thyestes in his place.
And yet, with those that have known evil days
One fault remains: the good time, when it comes,
Seems unbelievable; they will not trust it.
Fortune may smile again,
Those that have felt her heavy hand
Have little heart for laughter.
Grief, dost thou pluck my sleeve again?
Dost thou deny me this day’s happiness?
Grief, dost thou rise unbidden, unprovoked,
And wouldst thou have me weep?
Dost thou forbid me crown my head with flowers?
She does, she does.…
So, there they go… roses of summer.…
Now they are off. And what is this?
My scented and anointed hair
Stands stiff with horror… tears on my cheeks
Not of my bidding… sobs in my voice
’Tis sorrow’s way; she will not be denied
The tears that she has grown to love. Weep then!
Yes! I will weep, though in this time of joy.
Yes! I will weep and howl
And tear these Tyrian purple clothes. My brain
Forewarns me of a thing
That I shall have to weep for by and bye;
It knows the coming evil; just as sailors
Know that a storm is brewing, when the sea
Begins to rise and swell, though no wind blows.
Why, fool, what griefs, what dangers
Does your imagination see?
Believe your brother with an open heart.
Your fears, whatever they may be,
Are either groundless, or too late.…
It is no use; against my will some fear pervades my being;
I have no cause to weep, yet tears start from my eyes.
Is it for grief, or fear? Can a man weep
For too much happiness?
ATREUS: Brother, we two must celebrate together
This memorable day, which will confirm
My kingdom and assure my confidence
In everlasting peace.
THYESTES: I have dined well;
And you have wined me well. Only one thing
Can add a culmination to my pleasure –
That I should share my pleasure with my sons.
ATREUS: Consider them already with you here
In your embrace. They are, and will be, with you
For evermore. No member of your family
Can now be taken from you. You shall see,
As you desire, their faces very soon,
And I shall see a father well content
Rejoicing in the presence of his loved ones.
Your cup shall be filled full; have no more fear.
Your sons are taking part in the enjoyment
Of festive fare – all the yo
ung folk together;
They shall be sent for. Let me offer you
A cup of wine from our ancestral vintage.
THYESTES: I shall accept your hospitable toast,
Brother, with pleasure. A libation first
To our paternal gods; then drain the cup.…
But what is this? My hand will not obey me,
The cup grows heavy, I can hardly lift it.
The wine I try to drink avoids my lips –
Some trick? – the liquor dribbles down my chin.…
And see, the table rocked, the floor is shaking.
The torches’ light sinks low; the sky itself
Hangs dull and heavy, seeming to be lost
Between the daylight and the dark. And why –
The ceiling of the heavens seems to shake
With violent convulsions – more and more!
The murk grows darker than the deepest darkness,
Night is engulfed in night; all stars have fled.
Whatever be this peril, may it spare
My brother and my sons; on my vile head
Let the storm break. But let me see my children!
ATREUS: I shall; no day shall ever take them from you.
THYESTES: What agitation in my stomach swells?
What moves within me? Some protesting burden
Lies on my heart, and in my breast a voice
That is not mine is groaning. O my children!
Where are you? Come! Your ailing father calls you.
If I can see your faces, all my pain
Will soon be ended. Do I hear them? Where?
ATREUS [exhibiting the children’s heads]: Embrace your children, father! They are here
Beside you. Do you recognize your sons?
THYESTES: I recognize my brother! Canst thou bear,
O Earth, the weight of so much wickedness?
Wilt thou not break, and drown thyself and us
In the infernal Styx? Wilt thou not open
Into a vast abyss and sink in chaos
Kingdom and king? Not overturn Mycenae
And tear it stone by stone from its foundations?
We two should now be joined with Tantalus.
Unlock thy gates, O Earth, open them wide,
And to whatever dungeon lower lies
Than Tartarus, where our forefathers are,
Dispatch us quickly, down the steep descent
Into thy awful bosom, there to lie
Entombed under the weight of Acheron.
Above our heads let guilty spirits float,
Above our prison let the fierce hot flood