XUTHUS
At that we
marvel both.
ION
Who is my mother?
XUTHUS
That I cannot say.
ION
Did not the god inform thee?
XUTHUS
Through my joy,
For this I ask'd not.
ION
Haply from the earth
I
sprung, my mother.
XUTHUS
No, the earth no sons
Produces.
ION
How then am I thine?
XUTHUS
I know not.
To Phoebus I appeal.
ION
Be this discourse
Chang'd to some other.
XUTHUS
This delights me most.
ION
Hast thou e'er mounted an unlawful bed?
XUTHUS
In
foolishness of youth.
ION
Was that before
Thy marriage with the daughter of Erechtheus?
XUTHUS
Since never.
ION
Owe I then my birth to that?
XUTHUS
The time agrees.
ION
How came I
hither then?
XUTHUS
I can form no conjecture.
ION
Was I brought
From some far distant part?
XUTHUS
That fills my mind
With
doubtful musing.
ION
Didst thou e'er before
Visit the Pythian rock?
XUTHUS
Once, at the feast
Of Bacchus.
ION
By some public host received?
XUTHUS
Who with the Delphian damsels-
ION
To the orgies
Led thee, or how?
XUTHUS
And with the Maenades
Of Bacchus-
ION
In the
temperate hour, or warm
With wine?
XUTHUS
Amid the revels of the god.
ION
From
thence I date my birth.
XUTHUS
And fate, my son,
Hath found thee.
ION
How then came I to the temple?
XUTHUS
Perchance exposed.
ION
The state of servitude
Have I escaped.
XUTHUS
Thy father now, my son,
Receive.
ION
Indecent were it in the god
Not to confide.
XUTHUS
Thy thoughts are just.
ION
What else
Would we?
XUTHUS
Thou seest what thou oughtst to see.
ION
Am I the son then of the son of Jove?
XUTHUS
Such is thy fortune.
ION
Those that gave me birth
Do I
embrace?
XUTHUS
Obedient to the god.
ION
My father, hail!
XUTHUS
That dear name I accept
With joy.
ION
This present day-
XUTHUS
Hath made me happy.
ION
O my dear mother, when shall I behold
Thy face? Whoe'er thou art, more wish I now
To see thee than before; but thou perchance
Art dead, and nothing our desires avail.
LEADER
We in the
blessing of our house rejoice.
Yet wish we that our
mistress too were happy
In children, and the lineage of Erechtheus.
XUTHUS
Well hath the god accomplish'd this, my son,
Discovering thee, well hath he joined thee to me;
And thou hast found the most endearing ties,
To which, before this hour, thou wast a stranger.
And the warm wish, which thou hast well conceived,
Is
likewise mine, that thou mayst find thy mother;
I from what woman thou derivest thy birth.
This, left to time, may haply be discover'd.
Now quit this hallow'd earth, the god no more
Attending, and to mine
accord thy mind,
To visit Athens, where thy father's sceptre,
No mean one, waits thee, and
abundant wealth:
Nor, though thou
grieve one parent yet unknown,
Shalt thou be censured as ignobly born,
Or poor: no, thou art noble, and thy state
Adorn'd with rich possessions. Thou art silent.
Why is thine eye thus fixed upon the ground?
Why on thy brow that cloud? The smile of joy
Vanish'd, thou strikest thy father's heart with fear.
ION
Far other things appear when nigh, than seen
At distance. I indeed
embrace my fortune,
In thee my father found. But hear what now
Wakes sad reflections. Proud of their high race
Are your Athenians, natives of the land,
Not drawn from foreign lineage: I to them
Shall come
unwelcome, in two points defective,
My father not a native, and myself
Of spurious birth: loaded with this reproach,
If
destitute of power, I shall be held
Abject and
worthless: should I rush among
The highest order of the state, and wish
To appear important,
inferior ranks
Will hate me; aught above them gives disgust.
The good, the wise, men form'd to serve the state,
Are silent, nor at public honours aim
Too
hastily: by such, were I not quiet
In such a bustling state, I should be deem'd
Ridiculous, and proverb'd for a fool.
Should I
attain the
dignity of those,
Whose approved worth hath raised them to the height
Of public honours, by such
suffrage more
Should I be watch'd; for they that hold in states
Rule and pre-eminence, bear
hostile minds
To all that vie with them. And should I come
To a strange house a stranger, to a woman
Childless herself, who that
misfortune shared
Before with thee, now sees it her sole lot,
And feels it
bitterly, would she not hate me,
And that with justice? When I stand before them.
With what an eye would she, who hath no child,
Look on thy child? In
tenderness to her,
Thy wife, thou must
forsake me, or embroil
Thy house in
discord, if thou favour me.
What
murderous means, what
poisonous drugs for men
Have women with inventive rage prepared!
Besides, I have much pity for thy wife,
Now growing old without a child, that grief
Unmerited, the last of her high race,
The
exterior face indeed of royalty,
So causelessly commended, bath its brightness;
Within, all gloom: for what sweet peace of mind,
What happiness is his, whose years are pass'd
In comfortless
suspicion, and the dread
Of
violence? Be mine the
humbleblessings
Of private life, rather than be a king,
From the flagitious forced to choose my friends,
And hate the
virtuous through the fear of death.
Gold, thou mayst tell me, hath o'er things like these
A
sovereign power, and
riches give delight:
I have no pleasure in this noisy pomp,
Nor, while I guard my
riches, in the toil:
Be mine a
modest mean that knows not care.
And now, my father, hear the happy state
I here enjoy'd; and first, to
mortal man
That dearest
blessing,
leisure, and no bustle
To cause
disturbance: me no
ruffian force