April 8 The Harvard Classics, fifteen minutes a day
Beware the Vengeful Hounds!
Orestes, holding an avenging sword over his mother, is told: “Beware thy mother’s vengeful hounds.” How he pays for disregarding his mother’s warning is told in this drama where a mother is slain to avenge a father’s ghost.
From the 1930 Reading Guide
The Libation Bearers
Æschylus
Page 111 opens in the middle of Aegisthus’ first speech; the reading starts with his entrance near the foot of page 110.
[Enter Aegisthus.
Aegisthus
Hither and not unsummoned have I come;For a new rumour, borne by stranger menArriving hither, hath attained mine ears,Of hap unwished-for, even Orestes’ death.This were new sorrow, a blood-bolter’d loadLaid on the house that doth already bowBeneath a former wound that festers deep.Dare I opine these words have truth and life?Or are they tales, of woman’s terror born,That fly in the void air, and die disproved?Canst thou tell aught, and prove it to my soul?
Chorus
What we have heard, we heard; go thou withinThyself to ask the strangers of their tale.Strengthless are tidings, thro’ another heard;Question is his to whom the tale is brought.
Aegisthus
I too will meet and test the messenger,Whether himself stood witness of the death,Or tells it merely from dim rumour learnt:None shall cheat me, whose soul hath watchful eyes.
[Exit.
Chorus
Zeus, Zeus! what word to me is given?What cry or prayer, invoking heaven,Shall first by me be utterèd?What speech of craft—nor all revealing,Nor all too warily concealing—Ending my speech, shall aid the deed?For lo! in readiness is laidThe dark emprise, the rending blade;Blood-dropping daggers shall achieveThe dateless doom of Atreus’ name,Or—kindling torch and joyful flameIn sign of new-won liberty—Once more Orestes shall retrieveHis father’s wealth, and, throned on high,Shall hold the city’s fealty.So mighty is the grasp whereby,Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throwUnseconded, a double foe.Ho for the victory!
[A loud cry within.
Voice of Aegisthus
Help, help, alas!
Chorus
Ho there, ho! how is’t within?Is’t done? is’t over? Stand we here aloofWhile it is wrought, that guiltless we may seemOf this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled.
[Enter a slave.
Slave
O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death!Woe, woe, and woe again, Aegisthus gone!Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the boltsOf the queen’s chamber. O for some young strengthTo match the need! but aid availeth noughtTo him laid low for ever. Help, help, help!Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vainTo slumber ineffectual. What ho!The queen! how fareth Clytemnestra’s self?Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel,And soon shall sink, hewn thro’ as justice wills.
[Enter Clytemnestra.
Clytemnestra
What ails thee, raising this ado for us?
Slave
I say the dead are come to slay the living.
Clytemnestra
Alack, I read thy riddles all too clear—We slew by craft and by like craft shall die.Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old;I’ll know anon or death or victory—So stands the curse, so I confront it here.
[Enter Orestes, his sword dropping with blood.
Orestes
Thee too I seek: for him what’s done will serve.
Clytemnestra
Woe, woe! Aegisthus, spouse and champion, slain!
Orestes
What, lov’st the man? then in his grave lie down,Be his in death, desert him nevermore!
Clytemnestra
Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breastPillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep,Thy toothless mouth drew mother’s milk from me.
Orestes
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades.
Pylades
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gaveAt Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn?Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods.
Orestes
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good.
[To Clytemnestra.
Follow; I will to slay thee at his side.With him whom in his life thou lovedst moreThan Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meedFor hate where love, and love where hate was due!
Clytemnestra
I nursed thee young; must I forego mine eld?
Orestes
Thou slew’st my father; shalt thou dwell with me?
Clytemnestra
Fate bore a share in these things, O my child!
Orestes
Fate also doth provide this doom for thee.
Clytemnestra
Beware, O child, a parent’s dying curse.
Orestes
A parent who did cast me out to ill!
Clytemnestra
Not cast thee out, but to a friendly home.
Orestes
Born free, I was by twofold bargain sold.
Clytemnestra
Where then the price that I received for thee?
Orestes
The price of shame; I taunt thee not more plainly.
Clytemnestra
Nay, but recount thy father’s lewdness too.
Orestes
Home-keeping, chide not him who toils without.
Clytemnestra
’Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child.
Orestes
The absent husband toils for them at home.
Clytemnestra
Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child.
Orestes
Nay, ’tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I.
Clytemnestra
Beware thy mother’s vengeful hounds from hell.
Orestes
How shall I ’scape my father’s, sparing thee?
Clytemnestra
Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard.
Orestes
My father’s fate ordains this doom for thee.
Clytemnestra
Ah, me! this snake it was I bore and nursed.
Orestes
Ay, right prophetic was thy visioned fear.Shameful thy deed was—die the death of shame!
[Exit, driving Clytemnestra before him
Chorus
Lo, even for these I mourn, a double death:Yet since Orestes, driven on by doom,Thus crowns the height of murders manifold,I say, ’tis well that not in night and deathShould sink the eye and light of this our home.
There came on Priam’s race and nameA vengeance; though it tarried long,With heavy doom it came.Came, too, on Agamemnon’s hallA lion-pair, twin swordsmen strong.And last, the heritage doth fallTo him to whom from Pythian caveThe god his deepest counsel gave.Cry out, rejoice! our kingly hallHath ’scaped from ruin—ne’er againIts ancient wealth be wasted allBy two usurpers, sin-defiled—An evil path of woe and bane!On him who dealt the dastard blowComes Craft, Revenge’s scheming child.And hand in hand with him doth go,Eager for fight,The child of Zeus, whom men belowCall Justice, naming her aright.And on her foes her breathIs as the blast of death;For her the god who dwells in deep recessBeneath Parnassus’ brow,Summons with loud acclaimTo rise, though late and lame,And come with craft that worketh righteousness.
For even o’er powers divine this law is strong—Thou shalt not serve the wrong.To that which ruleth heaven beseems it that we bow.Lo, freedom’s light hath come!Lo, now is rent awayThe grim and curbing bit that held us dumb.Up to the light, ye halls! this many a dayToo low on earth ye lay.And Time, the great Accomplisher,Shall cross the threshold, whensoe’erHe choose with purging hand to cleanseThe palace, driving all pollution thence.And fair the cast of Fortune’s dieBefore our state’s new lords shall lie,Not as of old, but bringing fairer doom.Lo, freedom’s light hath come!
[The scene opens, disclosing Orestes standing over the corpses of Aegisthus and Clytemnestra; in one hand he holds his sword, in the other the robe in which Agamemnon was entangled and slain.
Orestes
There lies our country’s twofold tyranny,My father’s slayers, spoilers of my home.Erst were they royal, sitting on the throne,And loving are they yet,—their common fateTells the tale truly, shows their trothplight firm.They swore to work mine ill-starred father’s death,They swore to die together; ’tis fulfilled.O ye who stand, this great doom’s witnesses,Behold this too, the dark device which boundMy sire unhappy to his death,—beholdThe mesh which trapped his hands, enwound his feet!Stand round, unfold it—’tis the trammel-netThat wrapped a chieftain; hold it that he see,The father—not my sire, but he whose eyeIs judge of all things, the all-seeing Sun!Let him behold my mother’s damnèd deed,Then let him stand, when need shall be to me,Witness that justly I have sought and slainMy mother; blameless was Aegisthus’ doom—He died the death law bids adulterers die.But she who plotted this accursèd thingTo slay her lord, by whom she bare beneathHer girdle once the burden of her babes,Beloved erewhile, now turned to hateful foes—What deem ye of her? or what venomed thing,Sea-snake or adder, had more power than sheTo poison with a touch the flesh unscarred?So great her daring, such her impious will.How name her, if I may not speak a curse?A lion-springe! a laver’s swathing cloth,Wrapping a dead man, twining round his feet—A net, a trammel, an entangling robe?Such were the weapon of some strangling thief,The terror of the road, a cut-purse hound—With such device full many might he kill,Full oft exult in heat of villainy.Ne’er have my house so cursed an indweller—Heaven send me, rather, childless to be slain!
Chorus
Woe for each desperate deed!Woe for the queen, with shame of life bereft!And ah, for him who still is left,Madness, dark blossom of a bloody seed!
Orestes
Did she the deed or not? this robe gives proof,Imbrued with blood that bathed Aegisthus’ sword:Look, how the spurted stain combines with timeTo blur the many dyes that once adornedIts pattern manifold! I now stand here,Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing—Hear, O thou woven web that slew my sire!I grieve for deed and death and all my home—Victor, pollution’s damnèd stain for prize.
Chorus
Alas, that none of mortal menCan pass his life untouched by pain!Behold, one woe is here—Another loometh near.
Orestes
Hark ye and learn—for what the end shall beFor me I know not: breaking from the curb,My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey,Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraughtFar from the course, and madness in my breastBurneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave—Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes!I say that rightfully I slew my mother,A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire.And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound meUnto this deed I name the Pythian seerApollo, who foretold that if I slew,The guilt of murder done should pass from me;But if I spared, the fate that should be mineI dare not blazon forth—the bow of speechCan reach not to the mark, that doom to tell.And now behold me, how with branch and crownI pass, a suppliant made meet to goUnto Earth’s midmost shrine, the holy groundOf Loxias, and that renowned lightOf ever-burning fire, to ’scape the doomOf kindred murder: to no other shrine(So Loxias bade) may I for refuge turn.Bear witness, Argives, in the aftertime,How came on me this dread fatality.Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence,To leave in death the memory of this cry.
Chorus
Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lipsTo speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words—Who hast to Argos her full freedom given,Lopping two serpents’ heads with timely blow.
Orestes
Look, look, alas!Handmaidens, see—what Gorgon shapes throng up,Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound—Snakes coiled with snakes—off, off, I must away!
Chorus
Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire,What visions thus distract thee? Hold, abide;Great was thy victory, and shalt thou fear?
Orestes
These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill,But clear to sight my mother’s hell-hounds come!
Chorus
Nay, the fresh bloodshed still imbrues thine hands,And thence distraction sinks into thy soul.
Orestes
O king Apollo—see, they swarm and throng—Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes!
Chorus
One remedy thou hast; go, touch the shrineOf Loxias, and rid thee of these woes.
Orestes
Ye can behold them not, but I behold them.Up and away! I dare abide no more.
[Exit.
Chorus
Farewell then as thou mayst,—the god thy friendGuard thee and aid with chances favouring.
Behold, the storm of woe divineThat raves and beats on Atreus’ lineIts great third blast hath blown.First was Thyestes’ loathly woe—The rueful feast of long ago,On children’s flesh, unknown.And next the kingly chief’s despite,When he who led the Greeks to fightWas in the bath hewn down.And now the offspring of the raceStands in the third, the saviour’s place,To save—or to consume?O whither, ere it be fulfilled,Ere its fierce blast be hushed and stilled,Shall blow the wind of doom?
[Exeunt.
Volume 8, pages 111–121 · See the scanned page on archive.org
This is the reading for April 8 in Fifteen Minutes a Day: The Reading Guide (1930 edition), page 43. There the assignment reads “Vol. 8, pp. 111–121.” Read it in the guide.