Suppliant Maidens and Other Plays eBook

CHORUS

  True is the word thou spakest of my garb;
  But speak I unto thee as citizen,
  Or Hermes’ wandbearer, or chieftain king?

THE KING OF ARGOS

  For that, take heart and answer without fear. 
  I am Pelasgus, ruler of this land,
  Child of Palaichthon, whom the earth brought forth;
  And, rightly named from me, the race who reap
  This country’s harvests are Pelasgian called. 
  And o’er the wide and westward-stretching land,
  Through which the lucent wave of Strymon flows
  I rule; Perrhaebia’s land my boundary is
  Northward, and Pindus’ further slopes, that watch
  Paeonia, and Dodona’s mountain ridge. 
  West, east, the limit of the washing seas
  Restrains my rule—­the interspace is mine. 
  But this whereon we stand is Apian land,
  Styled so of old from the great healer’s name;
  For Apis, coming from Naupactus’ shore
  Beyond the strait, child of Apollo’s self
  And like him seer and healer, cleansed this land
  From man-devouring monsters, whom the earth,
  Stained with pollution of old bloodshedding,
  Brought forth in malice, beasts of ravening jaws,
  A grisly throng of serpents manifold. 
  And healings of their hurt, by knife and charm,
  Apis devised, unblamed of Argive men,
  And in their prayers found honour, for reward. 
  —­Lo, thou hast heard the tokens that I give: 
  Speak now thy race, and tell a forthright tale;
  In sooth, this people loves not many words.

CHORUS

  Short is my word and clear.  Of Argive race
  We come, from her, the ox-horned maiden who
  Erst bare the sacred child.  My word shall give
  Whate’er can ’stablish this my soothfast tale.

THE KING OF ARGOS

  O stranger maids, I may not trust this word,
  That ye have share in this our Argive race. 
  No likeness of our country do ye bear,
  But semblance as of Libyan womankind. 
  Even such a stock by Nilus’ banks might grow;
  Yea and the Cyprian stamp, in female forms,
  Shows to the life, what males impressed the same. 
  And, furthermore, of roving Indian maids
  Whose camping-grounds by Aethiopia lie,
  And camels burdened even as mules, and bearing
  Riders, as horses bear, mine ears have heard;
  And tales of flesh-devouring mateless maids
  Called Amazons:  to these, if bows ye bare,
  I most had deemed you like.  Speak further yet,
  That of your Argive birth the truth I learn.

CHORUS

  Here in this Argive land—­so runs the tale—­
  Io was priestess once of Hera’s fane.

THE KING OF ARGOS

  Yea, truth it is, and far this word prevails: 
  Is’t said that Zeus with mortal mingled love?