In total ruin sunk. My son! My son!
O woe, woe, woe! Affliction's cruel pow'r
Teaches my voice the frantic notes of madness.
Att. Knowest thou aught then touching thy

son's death?

Hec. Strange, inconceivable to thought, I see Horrors on horrors, woes on woes arise. Never henceforth, ah, never shall I know A day without a tear, without a groan.

Ch. Dreadful, oh dreadful are the ills we suffer.

Hec. Alas my son, son of a wretched mother, What hard mishap hath robb'd thee of thy life? What fate, what hand accurs'd hath wrought thy death?

Att. I know not; on the wave-washed strand I found him.

Hec. Cast up, or fall'n beneath the bloody spear? Att. Cast on the smooth sand by the surging

wave.

Hec. Ah me! now know I what my dream forbodes:

The black-wing'd phantom pass'd me not; the

vision

Show'd to my sleeping fancy's frighted eye
My son no longer in the light of life.

Ch. These visions, teach they who hath slain thy son?

Hec. He, our false friend, who spurs the Thracian steed,

To whom his father for protection sent him.
Ch. Ah me! what, slew him to possess his

gold?

Hec. Unutterable deeds, abominable, Astonishing, unholy, horrible! Where are the laws of hospitality? Tyrant accurs'd, how hast thou gored his body, Gash'd with the cruel sword his youthful limbs, And steel'd thy heart against the sense of pity? Ch. Never on mortal head did angry heav'n Pour such a storm of miseries as on thine. But Agamemnon I behold, our lord, Advance this way: let us be silent, friends.

AGAMEMNON, HECUBA, CHORUS.

Aga. Why, Hecuba, dost thou delay to come,
And place thy daughter in the tomb? For since
Talthybius told us not to touch the virgin,
The sons of Greece forbear, and touch her not.
I marvel at thy stay, and come to seek thee.
Well is each mournful honour there prepar'd,
If in such mournful honours aught be well.-
But, ha! what lifeless corse before the tents
Behold I here? Some Trojan: for the robes
That clothe the limbs, inform me 'tis no Grecian.
Hec. Unhappy son! But naming the unhappy,
[apart.

I name myself. Alas, what shall I do?
Shall I fall down at Agamemnon's knees,
Or bear in silence my calamities?

Aga. Why thus lamenting dost thou turn from me?

What hath been done? tell me what body this?

Hec. O royal Agamemnon, at thy knees Suppliant I fall, and grasp thy conqu'ring hand,

Aga. Sent to the king, to Polymnestor sent? Hec. And sent with treasures of destructive gold.

Aga. By whom then dead, or by what cruel fate?

Hec. By whom but this inhospitable Thracian?
Aga. Inhuman, all on fire to seize the gold!
Hec. E'en so, soon as he knew our ruin'd state.
Aga. Where didst thou find the body, or who
brought it?

Hec. She found it lying on the sea-beat shore
Aga. By search discover'd, or by accident?
Hec. Charg'd with the laver for Polyxena.
Aga. By his protector murder'd and cast out?
Hec. Thus gash'd, and thrown to float upon

the wave.

Aga. Unhappy thou, unbounded are thy woes! Hec. All woes are mine. Affliction hath no

more.

Aga. Alas, was ever woman born so wretched!
Hec. Never indeed, not Misery herself.
But for what cause thus at thy knees I fall,
Now hear; if justly I endure these ills,
And such thy thought, patient I will endure
them;

If not, avenge me of this impious man,
Who, of the gods above or gods beneath
Reckless, hath done a most unholy deed,
Oft at my hospitable board receiv'd,
And number'd 'mongst the foremost of my
friends:

Thus grac'd, with fell intent he slew my son;
Nor, when the deed was done, deign'd to en-

tomb

The dead, but flung him welt'ring on the wave. But we are slaves, but we perchance are weak; Yet the blest gods are strong, the law is strong Which rules e'en them; for by the law we judge That there are gods, and form our lives, the bounds

Of justice and injustice mark'd distinct:
This law looks up to thee: if disregarded,
If he escapes its vengeance, whose bold hand
Inhospitably stabs his guest, or dares
Pollute the sacred ordinance of heav'n,
There is no justice in th' affairs of men.

Deem these deeds base then, reverence my woes,
Have pity on me, as a picture view
The living portrait of my miseries.
Erewhile I was a queen, but now thy slave;
Erewhile blest in my children, childless now
In my old age, abandon'd, outcast, wretched.
Ah, whither dost thou turn the backward step?
Suing shall I reap nothing but repulse?
Why should poor mortals with incessant care
Each unavailing science strive t' attain,
And slight, as nothing worth, divine Persuasion,
Whose pow'rful charms command the hearts of

men,

And bend them unreluctant to her will?
Who then may, henceforth, hope his state may
flourish ?

Of all my sons (and I could boast such sons!)
Not one is left; myself in bonds, and led
To base and ignominious servitude,
The smoke of Troy yet mounting to the skies.
Oh that by some nice art, or by some god,
My arms, my hands, my hair, my feet had voice,
That each part vocal with united pray'rs
Might supplicate, implore, importune thee!
Imperial lord, illustrious light of Greece,
Let me prevail: give me thine hand, avenge me,
A wretch indeed, an outcast; yet avenge me!
The cause of justice is the good man's care,
And always to requite the villain's deeds.

Ch. how wonderful th' events of human life,
Its laws determin'd by necessity,
Changing the sternest foe to a kind friend,
And the kind friend to a malignant foe!
Aga. Thee Hecuba, thy son, and thy misfor-

tunes

I pity, nor reject thy suppliant hand;
And in the cause of justice and the gods
Without surmise that for Cassandra's sake
I let my vengeance loose, and crush the tyrant.
Hence anxious fears rush thronging on my mind:
This man the army deems a friend, the dead
A foe: though dear to thee, yet this fond love
Is private, to the troops no common care.
Consider then; thou hast my will, my wish
To favour thee, to yield thee ready aid;
But slow, should Greece with taunting voice re-

vile me.

Hec. Vain is the boast of liberty in man:
A slave to fortune, or a slave to wealth,
Or by the people, or the laws restrain'd,
He dares not act the dictates of his will.
But since too much thy fears incline to heed
The multitude, I free thee from that fear.
With vengeance,
should the Greeks tumultuous
rise

In aid, restrain them, nor appear to act
As fav'ring me: what else th' affair requires,
Be confident, I well shall execute.

Aga. But how? what wilt thou do? infirm

with age

Grasp in thy hand the sword, and stab the

tyrant?

Or work thy will with poisons? with what aid, What hand? Or whence wilt thou procure thee friends?

Hec. Within these tents are many Trojan dames.

Aga. The captives, say'st thou, prizes of the Greeks?

Hec. With these will I revenge this bloody deed.

Aga. How shall weak women over men prevail?

Hec. Numbers are strong; add stratagem, resistless.

Aga. Yet like I not this female fellowship.

Hec. Were not Ægyptus' sons by women slain, The men of Lemnos all extirpated? But leave me to conduct this enterprise: Only permit this female slave to pass Safe through the army.-Go thou to the Thracian, Tell him that Hecuba, once queen of Troy, On matters that no less of good to him Import than me, would see him and his sons; It is of moment they should hear my words. Awhile, O king, the mournful rites forbear For my Polyxena, my late slain daughter; That on one pile the brother and the sister, To me a double grief, may blaze together, And mix their ashes in one common grave.

Aga. Then be it so: for should the army sail, My power could not indulge thy fond request: But since the god breathes not the fav'ring gales We must perforce await a prosp'rous voyage. Success attend thee: for the general good Of individuals and of states requires That vengeance overtake th' unrighteous deed, And virtue triumph in her just reward.

HECUBA, CHORUS.

Chorus.

Thou, then, oh natal Troy! no more
The city of the unsack'd shalt be,
So thick from dark Achaia's shore
The cloud of war hath covered thee.
Ah! not again

I tread thy plain

The spear-the spear hath rent thy pride;
The flame hath scarr'd thee deep and wide;
Thy coronal of towers is shorn,
And thou most piteous art-most naked and
forlorn!

I perish'd at the noon of night!
When sleep had sealed each weary eye;
When the dance was o'er,
And harps no more

Rang out in choral minstrelsy.
In the dear bower of delight
My husband slept in joy,
His shield and spear
Suspended near,

Secure we slept: that sailor band

Full soon we deem'd no more should stand
Beneath the walls of Troy.
And I, too, by the taper's light,

Which in the golden mirror's haze Flash'd its interminable rays, Bound up the tresses of my hair That I love's peaceful sleep might share.

I slept; but, hark! that war shout dread,
Which rolling through the city spread;
And this the cry,-" When, sons of Greece,
When shall the lingering leaguer cease;
When will ye spoil Troy's watch-tower high,
And home return?"-I heard the cry,
And, starting from the genial bed,
Wild, as a Doric maid, I fled,
And knelt, Diana, at thy holy fane,
A trembling suppliant-all in vain.
They led me to the sounding shore-

Heavens! as I passed the crowded way
My bleeding lord before me lay-
I saw-I saw-and wept no more,
Till, as the homeward breezes bore
The bark returning o'er the sea,
My gaze, oh Ilion, turned on thee!
Then, frantic, to the midnight air,
I curs'd aloud the adulterous pair :-
"They plunge me deep in exile's woe,
They lay my country low:

Their love-no love! but some dark spell,
In vengeance, breath'd by spirit fell.

Rise, hoary sea, in awful tide,

And whelm that vessel's guilty pride;

Nor e'er, in high Mycene's hall,

From Themis' seat, his ruthless hand
In blood, in mother's blood, to lave.

Ch. He stirs, he moves his covering vest.
Elect. Wretch, thy voice has broke his rest.
Ch. And yet, I think, sleep locks his eye.
Elect. Wilt thou begone? Hence wilt thou fly,
That quiet here again may dwell?
Ch. Hush, hush! he sleeps again-
Elect.
'Tis well.
Ch. Awful queen, whose gentle power
Brings sweet oblivion of our woes,
And in the calm and silent hour,
Distils the blessings of repose,—
Come, awful Night!

Elect. Softly let your warblings flow;
Farther, a farther distance keep:

Death then indeed is near.

Elect. When Phoebus gave the dire command To bathe in mother's blood his hand,

By whom the father sunk in dust,
He doom'd us victims.
Ch.

Dire these deeds, but just. Orest. [waking.] O gentle Sleep, whose lenient power thus soothes

FROM THE ORESTES.

In this play Orestes is represented as pursued by the Furies, in punishment for the murder of his mother Clytemnestra.

[ELECTRA watching over her sleeping brother; CHORUS approaching his couch.

Elect. Softly! softly! fall the sound
Of thy footstep on the ground!
Gently! gently! like the breath
Of a lute-song in its death;
Like the sighing of a reed,
Faintly murmuring to be freed,
So softly let thy whispers flow.

Ch. Like a reed, as soft and low!
Elect. Ay, low, low! but tell me why
Damsels, ye are lingering by?
Long hath sorrow torn his breast;
Now his weary eyes have rest.

Ch. How fares it with him? Dearest, say.
Elect. Sad and tearful is my lay.
Breathing on his couch he lieth,
Still he suffereth, still he sigheth.

Ch. What say'st thou, mourner?
Elect.

Woe to thee,

If the dewy slumber flee.
Ch. Yet wail I his unhappy state;
Abhorred deeds of deadly hate,
Rage of vindictive, torturing woes,

Which the relentless powers of heaven impose.
Elect. Unjust, unjust the stern command,
The stern command Apollo gave

Who wanted thy soft aid! Blessing divine,
That to the wretched givest wish'd repose,
Steeping their senses in forgetfulness!

Where have I been? Where am I? How brought hither?

My late distraction blots remembrance out.

Elect. What heartfelt joy to see thee thus com