Erechtheus | Page 4

hold thee or the Gods in hate?Hearing; but if my heart abhor it heard?Being insubmissive, hold me not thy wife?But use me like a stranger, whom thine hand?Hath fed by chance and finding thence no thanks?Flung off for shame's sake to forgetfulness. 270
ERECHTHEUS.
O, of what breath shall such a word be made,?Or from what heart find utterance? Would my tongue?Were rent forth rather from the quivering root?Than made as fire or poison thus for thee.
PRAXITHEA.
But if thou speak of blood, and I that hear?Be chosen of all for this land's love to die?And save to thee thy city, know this well,?Happiest I hold me of her seed alive.
ERECHTHEUS.
O sun that seest, what saying was this of thine,?God, that thy power has breathed into my lips? 280 For from no sunlit shrine darkling it came.
PRAXITHEA.
What portent from the mid oracular place?Hath smitten thee so like a curse that flies?Wingless, to waste men with its plagues? yet speak.
ERECHTHEUS.
Thy blood the Gods require not; take this first.
PRAXITHEA.
To me than thee more grievous this should sound.
ERECHTHEUS.
That word rang truer and bitterer than it knew.
PRAXITHEA.
This is not then thy grief, to see me die?
ERECHTHEUS.
Die shalt thou not, yet give thy blood to death.
PRAXITHEA.
If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 290
ERECHTHEUS.
Alas, thou knowest not; woe is me that know.
PRAXITHEA.
And woe shall mine be, knowing; yet halt not here.
ERECHTHEUS.
Guiltless of blood this state may stand no more.
PRAXITHEA.
Firm let it stand whatever bleed or fall.
ERECHTHEUS.
O Gods, that I should say it shall and weep.
PRAXITHEA.
Weep, and say this? no tears should bathe such words.
ERECHTHEUS.
Woe's me that I must weep upon them, woe.
PRAXITHEA.
What stain is on them for thy tears to cleanse?
ERECHTHEUS.
A stain of blood unpurgeable with tears.
PRAXITHEA.
Whence? for thou sayest it is and is not mine. 300
ERECHTHEUS.
Hear then and know why only of all men I?That bring such news as mine is, I alone?Must wash good words with weeping; I and thou,?Woman, must wail to hear men sing, must groan?To see their joy who love us; all our friends?Save only we, and all save we that love?This holiness of Athens, in our sight?Shall lift their hearts up, in our hearing praise?Gods whom we may not; for to these they give?Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 310 For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes?Harvest; but we for all our good things, we?Have at their hands which fill all these folk full?Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares,?Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these,?Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine.
PRAXITHEA.
What first they give who give this city good,?For that first given to save it I give thanks?First, and thanks heartier from a happier tongue,?More than for any my peculiar grace 320 Shown me and not my country; next for this,?That none of all these but for all these I?Must bear my burden, and no eye but mine?Weep of all women's in this broad land born?Who see their land's deliverance; but much more,?But most for this I thank them most of all,?That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce?My heart and not my country's; for the sword?Drawn to smite there and sharpened for such stroke?Should wound more deep than any turned on me. 330
CHORUS.
Well fares the land that bears such fruit, and well?The spirit that breeds such thought and speech in man.
ERECHTHEUS.
O woman, thou hast shamed my heart with thine,?To show so strong a patience; take then all;?For all shall break not nor bring down thy soul.?The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine?Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name?Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out,?I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die?One soul for all this people; from thy womb 340 Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground?Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth?Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name?To the under Gods made holy, who require?For this land's life her death and maiden blood?To save a maiden city. Thus I heard,?And thus with all said leave thee; for save this?No word is left us, and no hope alive.
CHORUS.
He hath uttered too surely his wrath not obscurely, nor wrapt
as in mists of his breath, [_Str._ The master that lightens not hearts he enlightens, but gives them
foreknowledge of death. 350 As a bolt from the cloud hath he sent it aloud and proclaimed
it afar,?From the darkness and height of the horror of night hath he
shown us a star.?Star may I name it and err not, or flame shall I say, Born of the womb that was born for the tomb of the day? O Night, whom other but thee for mother, and Death for the father,
Night, [_Ant._ Shall we dream to discover, save thee and thy lover, to bring
such a sorrow to sight??From the slumberless bed for thy bedfellow spread