Alcestis Part 2

[THANATOS _goes into the house. Presently, as the day grows lighter, the_ CHORUS _enters: it consists of Citizens of Pherae, who speak severally._]

CHORUS.

LEADER.

Quiet, quiet, above, beneath!

SECOND ELDER.

The house of Admetus holds its breath.

THIRD ELDER.

And never a King's friend near, To tell us either of tears to shed For Pelias' daughter, crowned and dead; Or joy, that her eyes are clear.

Bravest, truest of wives is she That I have seen or the world shall see.

DIVERS CITIZENS, _conversing_.

(The dash -- indicates a new speaker.)

--Hear ye no sob, or noise of hands Beating the breast? No mourners' cries For one they cannot save?

--Nothing: and at the door there stands No handmaid.--Help, O Paian; rise, O star beyond the wave!

--Dead, and this quiet? No, it cannot be.

--Dead, dead!--Not gone to burial secretly!

--Why? I still fear: what makes your speech so brave?

--Admetus cast that dear wife to the grave Alone, with none to see?

--I see no bowl of clear spring water.

It ever stands before the dread Door where a dead man rests.

--No lock of shorn hair! Every daughter Of woman shears it for the dead.

No sound of bruised b.r.e.a.s.t.s!

--Yet 'tis this very day ...--This very day?

--The Queen should pa.s.s and lie beneath the clay.

--It hurts my life, my heart!--All honest hearts Must sorrow for a brightness that departs, A good life worn away.

LEADER.

To wander o'er leagues of land, To search over wastes of sea, Where the Prophets of Lycia stand, Or where Ammon's daughters three Make runes in the rainless sand, For magic to make her free-- Ah, vain! for the end is here; Sudden it comes and sheer.

What lamb on the altar-strand Stricken shall comfort me?

SECOND ELDER.

Only, only one, I know: Apollo's son was he, Who healed men long ago.

Were he but on earth to see, She would rise from the dark below And the gates of eternity.

For men whom the G.o.ds had slain He pitied and raised again; Till G.o.d's fire laid him low, And now, what help have we?

OTHERS.

All's done that can be. Every vow Full paid; and every altar's brow Full crowned with spice of sacrifice.

No help remains nor respite now.

_Enter from the Castle a_ HANDMAID, _almost in tears._

LEADER.

But see, a handmaid cometh, and the tear Wet on her cheek! What tiding shall we hear?...

Thy grief is natural, daughter, if some ill Hath fallen to-day. Say, is she living still Or dead, your mistress? Speak, if speak you may.

MAID.

Alive. No, dead.... Oh, read it either way.

LEADER.

Nay, daughter, can the same soul live and die?

MAID.

Her life is broken; death is in her eye.

LEADER.

Poor King, to think what she was, and what thou!

MAID.

He never knew her worth.... He will know it now.

LEADER.

There is no hope, methinks, to save her still?

MAID.

The hour is come, and breaks all human will.

LEADER.

She hath such tendance as the dying crave?

MAID.

For sure: and rich robes ready for her grave.

LEADER.

'Fore G.o.d, she dies high-hearted, aye, and far In honour raised above all wives that are!

MAID.

Far above all! How other? What must she, Who seeketh to surpa.s.s this woman, be?

Or how could any wife more s.h.i.+ning make Her lord's love, than by dying for his sake?

But thus much all the city knows. 'Tis here, In her own rooms, the tale will touch thine ear With strangeness. When she knew the day was come, She rose and washed her body, white as foam, With running water; then the cedarn press She opened, and took forth her funeral dress And rich adornment. So she stood arrayed Before the Hearth-Fire of her home, and prayed: "Mother, since I must vanish from the day, This last, last time I kneel to thee and pray; Be mother to my two children! Find some dear Helpmate for him, some gentle lord for her.

And let not them, like me, before their hour Die; let them live in happiness, in our Old home, till life be full and age content."

To every household altar then she went And made for each his garland of the green Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen Praying, without a sob, without a tear.

She knew the dread thing coming, but her clear Cheek never changed: till suddenly she fled Back to her own chamber and bridal bed: Then came the tears and she spoke all her thought.

"O bed, whereon my laughing girlhood's knot Was severed by this man, for whom I die, Farewell! 'Tis thou ... I speak not bitterly....

'Tis thou hast slain me. All alone I go Lest I be false to him or thee. And lo, Some woman shall lie here instead of me-- Happier perhaps; more true she cannot be."

She kissed the pillow as she knelt, and wet With flooding tears was that fair coverlet.

At last she had had her fill of weeping; then She tore herself away, and rose again, Walking with downcast eyes; yet turned before She had left the room, and cast her down once more Kneeling beside the bed. Then to her side The children came, and clung to her and cried, And her arms hugged them, and a long good-bye She gave to each, like one who goes to die.

The whole house then was weeping, every slave In sorrow for his mistress. And she gave Her hand to all; aye, none so base was there She gave him not good words and he to her.

So on Admetus falls from either side Sorrow. 'Twere bitter grief to him to have died Himself; and being escaped, how sore a woe He hath earned instead--Ah, some day he shall know!

LEADER.