The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus Translated into English VerseAeschylus
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The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus Translated into English Verse
Aeschylus
Aeschylus -- Translations into English; Mythology, Greek -- Drama
CHORUS.
Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.
How shall this man, who spilt his mother's blood,
Dwell in his father's halls at Argos? How
Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How
With any clanship share lustration?[n45]
APOLLO.
This
Likewise I'll answer. Mark me! whom we call
The mother begets not;[n46] she is but the nurse,
Whose fostering breast the new-sown seed receives.
The father truly gets; the dam but cherishes
A stranger-bud, that, if the gods be kind,
May blossom soon, and bear. Behold a proof!
Without a mother may a child be born,
Not so without a father. Which to witness
Here is this daughter of Olympian Jove,
Not nursed in darkness, in the womb, and yet
She stands a goddess, heavenly mother ne'er
Bore greater. Pallas, here I plight my faith
To magnify thy city and thy people;
And I this suppliant to thy hearth hath sent,
Thy faithful ally ever. May the league
Here sworn to-day their children's children bind!
ATHENA.
Now judges, as your judgment is, I charge you,
So vote the doom. Words we have had enough.
CHORUS.
Our quiver's emptied. We await the doom.
ATHENA.
How should the sentence fall to keep me free
Of your displeasure?
CHORUS.
What we said we said.
Even as your heart informs you, nothing fearing,
So judges justly vote, the oath revering.
ATHENA.
Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians![n47] Ye,
In this first strife of blood, umpires elect,
While age on age shall roll, the sons of Aegeus
This Council shall revere. Here, on this hill,
The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore,[n48]
What time with Theseus striving, they their tents
Against these high-towered infant walls uptowered.
To Mars they sacrificed, and, to this day,
This Mars' Hill speaks their story. Here, Athenians,
Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,
That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess,
A place apart, so long as fickle change
Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this
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Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye
Shall draw the draught in vain. From anarchy
And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance
Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls
All high authority; for where no fear
Awful remains, what mortal will be just?
This holy reverence use, and ye possess
A bulwark, and a safeguard of the land,
Such as no race of mortals vaunteth, far
In Borean Scythia, or the land of Pelops.[f19]
This council I appoint intact to stand
From gain, a venerated conclave, quick
In pointed indignation, when all sleep
A sleepless watch. These words of warning hear,
My citizens for ever. Now ye judges
Rise, take your pebbles, and by vote decide,
The sacred oath revering. I have spoken.
[_The_ AEROPAGITES _advance; and, as each puts his pebble into the
urn, the_ CHORUS _and_ APOLLO _alternately address them as follows:_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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