Him, while yet a sportive child,
In his mother's arms that smiled,
Phoebus slew, and seized the
shrineWhence proceeds the voice divine:
On the golden tripod placed,
Throne by
falsehood ne'er disgraced,
Where Castalia's pure
stream flows,
He the fates to
mortal shows.
antistrophe
But when Themis, whom of yore
Earth, her
fruitful mother, bore,
From her hallow'd seat he drove,
Earth to
avenge her daughter strove,
Forming visions of the night,
Which, in rapt dreams hovering light,
All that Time's dark volumes hold
Might to
mortal sense unfold,
When in midnight's sable shades
Sleep the silent couch invades:
Thus did Earth her
vengeance boast.
His
prophetic honours lost,
Royal Phoebus speeds his
flightTo Olympus, on whose height
At the
throne of Jove he stands,
Stretching forth his little hands,
Suppliant that the Pythian
shrineFeel no more the wrath divine;
That the
goddess he appease;
That her
nightly visions cease.
Jove with smiles
beheld his son
Early thus address his
throne,
Suing with
ambitious pride
O'er the rich
shrine to preside;
He, assenting, bow'd his head.
Straight the
nightly visions fled;
And
prophetic dreams no more
Hover'd slumbering
mortals o'er:
Now to Phoebus given again,
All his honours pure remain;
Votaries distant regions send
His frequented
throne to attend:
And the firm decrees of fate
On his
faithful voice await.
(A MESSENGER enters.)
MESSENGER
Say you, that keep the
temple, and attend
The altar, where is Thoas, Scythia's king?
Open these strong-compacted gates, and cal
Forth from the
shrine the
monarch of the land.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Wherefore? at thy command if I must speak.
MESSENGER
The two young men are gone, through the device
Of Agamemnon's daughter: from this land
They fly; and, in their Grecian
galley placed,
The
sacred image of the
goddess bear.
LEADER
Incredible thy tale: but whom thou seek'st,
The
monarch, from the
temple went in haste.
MESSENGER
W
hither? for what is doing he should know.
LEADER
We know not: but go thou, and seek for him:
Where'er thou find him, thou wilt tell him this.
MESSENGER
See, what a
faithless race you women are!
In all that hath been done you have a part.
LEADER
Sure thou art mad! what with the strangers'
flightHave we to do? But wilt thou not, with all
The speed thou mayst, go to the
monarch's house?
MESSENGER
Not till I first am well inform'd, if here
Within the
temple be the king, or not.
(Shouting)
Unbar the gates (to you within I speak);
And tell your lord that at the
portal here
I stand, and bring him
tidings of fresh ills.
(THOAS and his attendants enter from the
temple.)
THOAS
Who at the
temple of the
goddess dares
This clamour raise, and, thundering at the gates,
Strikes
terror through the ample space within?
MESSENGER
With
falsehoods would these women drive me hence,
Without to seek thee: thou wast in the
shrine.
THOAS
With what
intent? or what
advantage sought?
MESSENGER
Of these
hereafter; what more
urgent now
Imports thee, hear: the
virgin, in this place
Presiding at the altars, from this land
Is with the strangers fled, and bears with her
The
sacred image of the
goddess; all
Of her ablutions but a false pretence.
THOAS
How say'st thou? What is her
accursed design?
MESSENGER
To save Orestes: this too will amaze thee.
THOAS
Whom? What Orestes? Clytemnestra's son?
MESSENGER
Him at the altar hallow'd now to bleed.
THOAS
Portentous! for what less can it be call'd?
MESSENGER
Think not on that, but hear me; with deep thought
Reflect: weigh well what thou shalt hear; devise
By what
pursuit to reach and seize the strangers.
THOAS
Speak: thou advisest well: the sea though nigh,
They fly not so as to escape my spear.
MESSENGER
When to the shore we came, where station'd rode
The
galley of Orestes, by the rocks
Conceal'd to us, whom thou hadst sent with her
To hold the strangers' chains, the royal maid
Made signs that we
retire, and stand aloof,
As if with secret rites she would perform
The purposed expiation: on she went,
In her own hands
holding the strangers' chains
Behind them: not without suspicion-this,
Yet by thy servants, king, allow'd. At length,
That we might deem her in some purpose high
Employ'd, she raised her voice, and chanted loud
Barbaric strains, as if with
mystic rites
She cleansed the stain of blood. When we had sat
A
tedious while, it came into our thought,
That from their chains unloosed, the stranger youths
Might kill her, and escape by
flight: yet fear
Of
seeing what we ought not, kept us still
In silence; but at length we all resolved
To go, though not permitted, where they were.
There we behold the Grecian bark with oars
Well furnish'd, wing'd for
flight; and at their seats,
Grasping their oars, were fifty rowers; free
From chains beside the stern the two youths stood
Some from the prow relieved the keel with poles;
Some weigh'd the anchors up; the climbing ropes
Some hasten'd, through their hands the cables drew,
Launch'd the light bark, and gave her to the main.
But when we saw their
treacherous wiles, we rush'd
Heedless of danger, seized the priestess, seized
The halsers, hung upon the helm, and strove
To rend the rudder-bands away. Debate
Now rose:-"What mean you, sailing o'er the seas,
The
statue and the priestess from the land
By stealth conveying? Whence art thou, and who,
That bear'st her, like a purchased slave, away?"
He said, "I am her brother; be of this
Inform'd; Orestes, son of Agamemnon:
My sister, so long lost, I bear away,
Recover'd here." But
naught the less for that
Held we the priestess, and by force would lead
Again to thee: hence
dreadful on our cheeks
The blows; for in their hands no sword they held,
Nor we; but many a rattling stroke the youths
Dealt witb their fists, against our sides and breasts
Their arms
fierce darting, till our batter'd limbs
Were all disabled: now with
dreadful marks
Disfigured, up the
precipice we fly,
Some
bearing on their heads, some in their eyes
The
bloody bruises:
standing on the heights,
Our fight was safer, and we hurl'd at them
Fragments of rocks; but,
standing on the stern,
The archers with their arrows drove us thence;
And now a swelling wave roll'd in, which drove
The
galley towards the land. The sailors fear'd
The sudden swell: on his left arm sustain'd,
Orestes bore his sister through the tide,
Mounted the bark's tall side, and on the deck
Safe placed her, and Diana's holy image,
Which fell from heaven; from the midship his voice
He sent aloud:-"Ye youths, that in this bark
From Argos plough'd the deep, now ply your oars,
And dash the billows till they foam: those things
Are ours, for which we swept the Euxine sea.
And steer'd our course within its clashing rocks."
They gave a
cheerful shout, and with their oars
Dash'd the salt wave. The
galley, while it rode
Within the harbour, work'd its easy way;
But having pass'd its mouth, the swelling flood
Roll'd on it, and with sudden force the wind
Impetuous rising drove it back: their oars
They slack'd not, stoutly struggling 'gainst the wave;
But towards the land the refluent flood impell'd
The
galley: then the royal
virgin stood,
And pray'd:-"O daughter of Latona, save me,
Thy priestess save; from this barbaric land
To Greece
restore me, and
forgive my thefts:
For thou, O
goddess, dost thy brother love,
Deem then that I love those
allied to me."
The mariners responsive to her prayer
Shouted loud paeans, and their naked arms,
Each cheering each, to their stout oars apply.
But nearer and yet nearer to the rock
The
galley drove: some rush'd into the sea,
Some strain'd the ropes that bind the loosen'd sails.
Straight was I
hither sent to thee, O king,
To inform thee of these accidents. But haste,
Take chains and gyves with thee: for if the flood