Thyestes

The Second Tragedy of Seneca intituled Thyestes, faithfully Englished by Jasper Heywood fellow of Alsolne College in Oxford.

Imprinted at London in Fleet Street in the house late Thomas Berthelet’s.

Anno 1560, 26 die Martii.

To the right honourable sir John Mason knight, one of the Queen’s Majesties privy counsel, his daily orator Jasper Heywood wisheth health with increase of honour and virtue.

As bounden breast doth bear the poor’st wight

that duty doth in trifling token send,

As he that doth with plenteous present quite

Of prouder price and glittering gold his friend.

Who so repaithe with moneys mighty mass

the good that he at others’ hands hath found,

Remembrance of the benefit doth pass,

he thinks himself to him no longer bound.

The poor, whose power may not with price repay,

the great good gifts that he received before

With thankful thought yet gogyn  gift doth sway

above the pace of pearl and gold great store.

If puissant prince at poor man’s hand once took

A radish root and was therewith content,

Your honour then I pray, this little book

to take in worth, that I to you present.

Which, though itself a volume be but small,

yet greater gift it gives then win ye might,

Though it a barren book be throughout all

full fruitless, yet not faithless sign in sight,

It shows of him that for your honour prays,

as deeds of yours of him deserved have,

That God above prolong your happy days

and make the skies your seat soon after grave.

The translator to the book.

Thou little book my messenger must be,

That must from me to wight of honour go,

Behave thee humbly, bend to him thy knee

and thee to him in lowly manner show.

But do thou not thy self to him present

When with affairs thou shalt him troubled see,

Thou shalt perhaps so worthily be sent,

and with reproof he thus will say to thee:

“So proudly thus presume how darest thou,

at such a time so rashly to appear?

With things of weight thou seest me burdened now,

I may not yet to trifles give mine care.

Spy well thy time, when thou him seest alone,

an idle hour for the shall be most meet,

Then step thou forth in sight of him anon,

and, as behoves, his honour humbly greet.

But now take heed what I to thee shall tell,

and all by route this lesson take with thee,

In everything thy self to order well

in sight of him, give ear and learn of me.

First, what or whence thou art if he would wit,

then see that thou thy title to him show,

Tell him thy name is in thy forehead writ,

by which he shall both thee and me well know.

Then when he hath once lookt upon thy name,

if yet he shall neglect to read the rest,

Or if he chid and say thou art to blame,

With treaties such to have him so opprest

Beseech him yet thereof to pardon thee,

since thou art but thy masters messenger.

Excuse thy self and lay the faut in me

at whose commandment thus thou roomst in there.

If my presumption then accuse he do,

if deed so rash of mine he do reprove

That I thee dare attempt to send him to,

beware thou speak nothing for my behove.

Nor do thou not excuse my faut in ought,

but rather yet confess to him the same,

And sate there may a faut in me be thought

which to excuse it doubleth but the blame.

Yet with my boldness him beseech to bear

and pardon give to this my enterprise.

A worthy thing in wight of honour were

a present poor to take in thankful wise.

For tell him though thou slendr volume be,

ungreeing for state of honour guest,

Yet dost thou sign of duty bring with thee,

and pledge thou art of truly bounden breast,

And thou for him art come for to confess

his beadsman bound to be for his desert,

And how to him he grant he owth no less

nor gives no more but note of thankful hare.

In all the rest that he to thee shall say,

thy wit shall serve an answer well to make,

Thou hast thine errand, get thee hence away,

the gods thee speed, to them I thee betake.

The preface.

It was the four and twentieth date of latest month save one

Of all the year when flower and fruit from field and tree were gone,

And sadder season such ensued as dulls the doleful sprights

And Muse of men that wonted were  to wander in delights,

And weather such there was, as well became the pensive pen

With sorry style of woes to write and eke of mischief when

Aurora blusht with ruddy cheeks to wail the death again

Of Phoebus’ son whom thunderbolt of mighty Jove had slain,

And clouds from high began to throw their dreary tears adown,

And Venus from the skies above on Friday fowl to frown,

When, as at book with mased Muse I sat and pensive thought

Deep drowned in dumps of drowsiness as change of weather wrought,

I felt howe Morpheus bound my brows and eke my temples stroke

That down I sunk my heavy head and slept upon my book.

Then dreamed I thus, that by my side me thought I saw one stand

That down to ground in scarlet gown was dight, and in his hand

A book he bare, and on his head of bays a garland green.

Full grave he was, well stept in years and comely to be seen,

His eyes like christal shined, his breathe full sweet, his face full fine,

It seemed he had been lodged long among the Muses nine.

“Good sir” (quam I ), “I you beseech, since that ye seem to me

By your attire some worthy wight, it may your pleasure be

To tell me what and when ye are”, whereat a while he stayed

Beholding me, anon he spake, and thus, me thought, he said:

“Spain was” (quam he) “my native soil, a man of worthy fame

Sometime I was in former age, and Seneca my name”.

The name of Seneca when I heard then scantly could I speak,

I was so glad that from mine eyes the tears began to break

For joy and with what words I should salute him I ne wyst .

I him embraced: his hands, his feet, and face full oft I kisst.

And as at length my trickling tears me thought I might refrain,

“O blissful day” (quam I) “wherein returnd is again

so worthy wight! Oh happy hour, that liefer  is to me

Then life! Wherein it happs me so, that I should Seneca see.

Art thou the same that whilom didst thy tragedies endight 

With wondrous wit and regal stile? Oh long desired sight!

And liuste thou yet” (quam I) “indeed? And art thou come again

To talk and dwell as thou wert wont with men? And to remain

In this our age?” “I live” (quam he) “and never shall I die:

The works I wrote shall still preserve my name in memory

From age to age, and now again I will revive the same,

And here I come to seek someone that might renew my name,

And make me speak in stranger speech and set my works to sight,

And scan my verse in other tongue then I was wont to write.

A young man well I wot there is in th’ile of Brittanie

(That from the rest of all the world aloof in seas doth lie)

That once this labour took in hand, him would I meet full sane

To crave that in the rest of all my works he would take pain

To toil, as he in Troas did”. “Is that your will?” (quoth I)

I blusht, and said: “the same you seek, lo, here I stand you by”.

“If thou” (quam he) “be whom I seek, if glory ought thee move

Of mine to come in after age, if Seneca’s name thou love

Alive to keep, I thee beseech again to take thy pen,

In meter of thy mother tongue to give to sight of men

My other works, whereby thou shalt deserve of them and me

No little thanks when they themselves my tragedies shall see

In English verse, that never yet could Latin understand.

With my renown perhaps thy name shall fly throughout this land,

And those that yet thee never knew shall thee both love and praise,

And say ‘God grant this young man well to live full many days,

And many happy hours to see in life, and after grave

Rest, joy, and bliss eternally above the skies to have,

That so translated hath these books’”. “To him” (quoth I) “again

(If any be that so with thanks accepts a young man’s pain)

I wish great good, but well I wot the hateful cursed brood

far greater is, that are long since sprung up of Zoilus  blood.

That red haired, black mouthed, squint eyed wretch hath couched everywhere,

In corner close some imp of his that sit to see and hear

What each man doth, and each man blames, nor once we may him see

Come face to face, but we once gone then stoutly steps out he

And all he carps that there he finds ere half he read to end,

And what he understands not, blames, though nought he can amend.

But were it so that such were none, how may these youthful days

Of mine in thing so hard as this deserve of other praise?

A labour long” (quoth I) “it is that riper age doth crave

And who shall travail in thy books more judgement ought to have

Than I whose greener years thereby no thanks may hope to win.

Thou seest dame Nature yet hath set no hairs upon my chin,

Crave this therefore of graver age and men of greater skill.

Full many be that better can and come perhaps that will.

But if thy will be rather been a young man’s wit to prove,

And thinkst that elder learned men perhaps it shall behove

In works of weight to spend their time, go where Minervae’s men

And finest wits do swarm, whom she hath taught to pass with pen.

In Lincoln’s Inn and Temples twain, Gray’s Inn and other mo’

Thou shalt them find whose painful pen thy verse shall flourish so

That Melpomene thou wouldst well win, had taught them for to write,

And all their works with stately style, and goodly grace t’endite.

There shalt thou see the self-same North, whose work his wit displays,

And Dyall doth of princes paint and preach abroad his praise.

There Sackuylde’s sonnets sweetly sost , and fitly fined be,

There Norton’s ditties do delight, there Yelverton’s do flee

Well pured with pen: such young men three, as win thou mightst again,

To be begot as Pallas was of mighty Jove his brain.

There hear thou shalt a great report, of Baldwyn’s worthy name,

Whose Mirror doth of Magistrates proclaim eternal fame.

And there the gentle Blundville is by name and eke by kind

Of whom we learn by Plutarch’s lore what fruit by foes to find.

There Bavande bides that turned his toil a common wealth to frame,

And greater grace in English gives to worthy authors name.

There Gouge a grateful gayness hath got, report that runneth rife,

Who crooked compass doth describe and Zodiac of life.

And yet great number more, whose names if I should now resight,

A ten times greater work then thine, I should be forced to write.

A princely place in Parnas’ hill for these there is prepared,

Where crown of glittering glory hangs, for them a right reward.

Whereas the laps of ladies nine shall duly them defend,

That have prepared the laurel leaf about their head to bend.

And where their pens shall hang full hie and fame that erst was hid,

Abroad in Brutus realm shall fly, as late their volumes did.

These are the wits that can display thy tragedies all ten,

Replace with sugared sentence sweet and practise of the pen.

Myself, I must confess, I have too much already done

Above my reach, when rashly once with Troas I began,

And more presumed to take in hand then well I brought to end,

And little volume with mo’ faults, then lines abroad to send.

And of that work what men report, In faith I never wist .

But well I wot it may be thought so ill that little list

I have to do the like, whereof though mine be all the blame,

And all to me imputed is that passeth in my name,

Yet as of some I will confess that I the author was,

And faults too many made myself when I that book let pass

Out of my hands, so must I me excuse of other some.

For when to sign of hand and star I chanced first to come,

To printers’ hands I gave the work, by whom I had such wrong,

That though myself perused their proves the first time, yet ere long

When I was gone, they would again the print thereof renew,

Corrupted all in such a sort, that scant a sentence true

Now flyeth abroad as I it wrote. Which thing when I had tried

And fourscore greater faults than mine in forty leaves espied,

‘small thanks’” (quam I) “‘for such a work would Seneca give to me,

If he were yet alive, and should perhaps it chance to see’.

And to the printer thus I said: ‘within these doors of thine,

I make a vow shall never more come any work of mine’”.

“My friend” (quam Seneca therewithal) “no mervaile  thereof is:

They have myself so wronged oft, and many things amiss

Are done by them in all my works, such faults in every book

Of mine they make (as well he may it find that list to look)

That sense and Latin verse and all they violate and break,

And oft what I yet never meant they me enforce to speak.

It is the negligence of them, and partly lack of skill

That doth the works with pains well pend full oft disgrace and spill.

But as for that be nought abasht: the wise will well it way,

And learned men shall soon discern thy faults from his, and say,

Lo here the printer doth him wrong, as easy is to try

And slander doth the authors name, and lewdly him belie.

But where thy years thou sayst lack skill, misdoubt thou not” (quoth he.)

“I will myself in these affairs a helper be to thee.

Eche poets tale I will expound and other places hard.

Thou shalt, no doubt, find some, that will thy labour well regard.

And therewithal, oh Lord” he said, “now him I think upon,

That here but late to little lived, and now from hence is gone.

Whose virtues rare in age so green bewraied  a worthy wight,

And towardness tried of tender time, how lovely lamp of light

He would have been if God had spared his days till such time when

That elder age had abled him by growth to graver man.

How thankful thing thinkst thou”, quoth he, “would this to him have been,

If given to his name he might a work of thine have seen,

Whom during life he favoured so? But that may be,

For gone he is, alas the while thou shalt him never see

Where breathing bodies dwell again, nor never shalt thou more

Eftsoons with him of learning talk as thou wert wont before.

Yet wail no more for him” he said “for he far better is.

His seat he hath obtained now among the stars in bliss.

And casting brighter beams about than Phoebus golden gleed ,

Above the skies he lives with Jove, another Ganymede.

In better place than Aquarie  such grace did God him give.

But though the son be gone, yet here doth yet the father live.

And long might he this life enjoy in health, and great increase

Of honour and of virtue both, till God his soul release

From corps to skies, with right reward to recompense him there,

For truth and trusty service done, to prince and country here.

His goodness lo thy self hast felt”, quam he, “and that of late,

When he thee failed not to help and favour thine estate.

To him it shall beseem thee well some token for to show

That of thy duty which thou dost for his deserts him owe

Thou mindful art and how thou dost thy diligence apply,

To thank as power may serve, and with thy pen to signify

A grateful mind, and though to light so little trifle be

To give to him that hath so much already done for thee,

Yet since thou canst none otherwise his honour yet requite,

Nor yet thy years do thee permit more weighty works to write,

This Christmas time thou mayst do well a piece thereof to end,

And many thanks in volume small, as thee becomes to send.

And tell him how for his estate, thou dost thy prayers make

And him in daily vows of thine to God above betake.

But for because the printers all have greatly wronged me,

To ease thee of thy pains therein, see what I bring to thee”.

He said, and therewithal, began to open the gilded book

Which erst I told he bare in hand and thereupon to look:

The leaves within were fine to feel and fair to look upon,

As they with silver had been flaked, full clear to see they shone.

Yet far the letters did each one exceed the leaves in sight,

More glorious than the glittering gold and in the eye more bright.

The featly framed lines throughout in meetest manner stand,

More worthy work it was than might be made by mortal hand.

Therewith me thought a savour sweet I felt, so fresh that was,

That beds of purple violets and roses far did pas.

No princes perfume like to it, in chamber of estate,

I wishte it was something divine, did me so recreate.

I felt myself refreshed much, well quickened were my wits,

And often times of pleasure great I had so joyful fits,

That waking now I will confess, you may believe me well,

Great horde of gold I would refuse in such delights to dwell,

As in that dream I had anon, me thought I asked him,

What book it was he bare in hand, that showed and smelled so trim.

“These are,” quam he, “the tragedies indeed of Seneca,

The Muse herself them truly writ, that hight Melpomena

In Parnas princely palace high, she garnished this book,

The ladies have of Helicon  great joy thereon to look

When walking in their alleys sweet the flowers so fresh they tread,

And in the midst of them me place my tragedies to read.

These leaves that fine as velvet feel, and parchment like in sight,

Of feat fine fawns they are the skins, such as no mortal wight

May come unto, but with the which the muses wont to play

In gardens still with grass full green, that garnisht are full gay.

There fost’red are these little beasts and fed with Muses milk,

Their whitest hands and feet they like, with tongue as soft as silk.

Their hair not such as have the herd of other common deer,

But silken skins of purple hew like velvet fine they wear.

With proper featly framed feet about the arbours green

They trip and dance before these dames full seemly to be seen

And then their golden horns adore, in ladies’ laps they lay,

A great delight those sisters nine have with these fawns to play.

Of skins of them this parchment lo that shines so fair they make,

When ought they would with hand of theirs to written book betake.

This gorgeous glittering golden ink, so precious thing to see,

Give ear, and whereof made it is I shall declare to thee.

Fair trees amid their paradise there are of every kind,

Where every fruit that bough brings forth a man may ever find.

And dainties such as princes wont with proudst price to buy,

Great plenty thereof may be seen, hang there on branches high.

The plum, the pear, the fig, the date, powngarnet  wants not there,

The orange and the olive tree, full plenteously do bear.

Ye there the golden apples hang, which once a thing much worth

To joy the wedding day of Jove, the soil itself brought forth.

There Daphne stands transformed to tree, that green is still to sight

That was sometime the loved nymph so fair of Phoebus bright.

Not far from fruit so rich that once did waking dragon keep

Do the Myrtha  stand with woeful tears that yet doth wail and weep.

Her tears congealed hard to gum that savour sweet doth cast,

It is that makes to leaf so fine this ink to cleave so fast.

But with what water is this ink thus made, now learn” (quoth he)

“The secrets of the sacred mount, I will declare to thee.

Above the rest a cedar high of haughty top there grows

With bending branches far abroad on soil that shadow shows.

In top whereof do hang full high the pens of poets old,

And posies purtred  for their praise in letters all of gold.

In shade whereof a banquet house there stands of great delight,

For Muses’ joys the walls are made of marble fair in sight

Four square an ivory turret stands at every corner high,

The nooks and tops doth beaten gold, and amel  overly,

In fulgent seat doth fleeing fame, there sit full high from ground,

And praise of Pallas poets sends to stars with trumpets sound.

The gate thereof so strong and sure, it need no watch nor ward

A wondrous work it is to see, of adamant full hard.

With nine sure locks whereof of one each lady keeps the key

That none of them may come therein when other are away.

The floor within with emeralds green is paved fair and feat,

The board and benches round about are made of pure black geat .

The lute, the harp, the cytheron , the shawm, the shagbut  eke,

The vyall  and the virginal, no music there to seek.

About the walls more worthy work then made by mortal hand,

The poets painted pictures all in seemly order stand:

With colours such so lively laid, that at that sight I wean,

Apelles pensile would bear back, abashed to be seen.

There, Homer, Ovid, Horace eke full featly purtred be

And there not in the lowest place, they have described me.

There Virgile, Lucane, Palingene, and rest of poets all

Do stand, and there from this day forth full many other shall.

For now that house by many yards, enlarged out they have

Whereby they might in wider wall the images engrave

And paint the pictures more at large of hundreds English men

That give their tongue a greater grace by pure and painful pen.

In midst of all this worthy work there runs a pleasant spring

That is of all the paradise the most delicious thing.

That round about enclosed is with wall of Jasper stone,

The ladies let no wight therein, but even themselves alone.

The water shines like gold in sight and sweetest is to smell,

Full often times they bathe themselves within that blissful well.

With water thereof they this ink have made that writ this book,

And licenst me to bring it down for thee thereon to look.

Thou mayst believe it truly wrote, and trust in every whit

For here hath never printers press made faut, nor never yet

Came error here by miss of man. In sacred seat on high

They have it writ, in all whose works their pen can make no lie.

This book shall greatly thee avail to see how printers miss

In all my works, and all their faults thou mayst correct by this.

And more than that, this golden spring with which I have thee told

This ink so bright thus made to be, such property doth hold

That who thereof the savour feels his wits shall quickened be,

And sprights revived in wondrous wise, as now it happs to thee.

Come on therefore while help thou hast” he said, “and therewithal

Even at Thyestes chanced first, the leaves abroad to fall.

Even here” (quam he) “if it the please begin, now take thy pen:

Most dire debates describe of all that ever chanst to men

And which the gods abhorred to see. The sum of all the strife

Now harken to. Thyestes keeps his brother Atreus wife

And ram with golden fleece, but yet doth Atreus friendship fain

With him till time for father’s food he hath his children slain

And dishes dresst” he said, and then begun to read the book.

I sat attent, and thereupon I fixed fast my look

First how the fury draw the spright of Tantalus from hell

To stir the strife, I heard him read and all expound full well.

Full many pleasant poets tales that did me please I heard,

And evermore to book so fair I had a great regard,

Whereby I saw how often times the printers did him wrong.

Now Griphyus, Colineus now, and now and then among

He Aldus blamed, with all the rest that in his works do miss

Of sense or verse, and still my book I did correct by his.

The god of sleep had hard all this, when time for him it was

To dens of slumber whence he came, again away to pass.

The kercher  bound about my brows, dipt all in limbo lake,

He straight unknit, away he fleeth, and I began to wake.

When round I rolled mine eyes about and saw myself alone

In vain I “Seneca, Seneca!” cried, the poet now was gone.

For woe whereof I gan to weep, “Oh gods” quoth I, “unkind,

Ye are to blame with shapes so vain our mortal eyes to blind.

What goodly gain get you thereby, ye should us so beguile,

And fant’sies feed with joys, that last alas too little while?”

I Morpheus curst a thousand times that he had made me sleep

At all, or ells that he me would in dream no longer keep.

And never were my joys so great in sleep so sweet before

But now as grievous was my woe, alas and ten times more,

Myself without the poet there thus left alone to see,

And all delights of former dream thus vanished to be.

Sometime I curst, sometime I cried, like wight that waxed wood,

Or panther of her pray deprived, or tiger of her brood.

A thousand times my colour goes, and comes as oft again,

About I walkte, I might nowhere in quiet rest remain.

In wondrous wise I veered was that never man I ween

so soon might after late delights in such a pang be seen.

“Oh thou Megaera then” I said, “if might of thine it be

Wherewith thou Tantal draweste from hell, that thus disturbth me,

Inspire my pen with pensiveness this Tragedy t’endight,

And as so dreadful thing beseems, with doleful style to wright”.

This said, I felt the furies force enflame me more and more,

And ten times more now chaft I was than ever yet before.

My hair stood up, I waxed wood, my sinews all did shake,

And as the fury had me vext, my teethe began to ache.

And thus enflamed with force of her, I said it should be done,

And down I sat with pen in hand, and thus my verse began.

The speakers.

Tantalus.
Atreus.
Thyestes.
Messenger.
Megaera.
Servant.
Philistines.
Chorus.

Thyestes of Seneca.

[1]

Tantalus. Megaera.

[TANTALUS]

What fury fell enforceth me to flee th’unhappy seat,

That gape and gasp with greedy jaw the fleeing food to eat?

What god to Tantalus the bowers where breathing bodies dwell

Doth show again? Is ought found worse than burning thirst of hell

In lakes allow? Or yet worse plague than hunger is there one,

In vain that ever gapes for food? Shall Sisyphus his stone,

That slipper restless rolling pace upon my back be borne?

Or shall my limbs with swifter swing of whirling wheel be torn?

Or shall my pains be Tityus’ pangs th’increasing liver still,

Whose growing guts the gnawing gripes and filthy foules do fill?

That still by night repairs the paunch that was devoured by day,

And wondrous womb unwasted lythe a new prepared pray.

What ill am I appointed for? Oh cruel judge of sprights,

Who so thou be that torments new among the souls’ delights

Still to dispose? Add what thou canst to all my deadly woe,

That keeper even of dungeon dark would sore abhor to knot,

Or hell itself it quake to see, for dread whereof likewise

I tremble would, that plague seek out. Lo now, there doth arise

My brood that shall in mischief far the grandsires guilt out go

And guiltless make that first shall dare unvent’red ills to do.

Whatever place remaineth yet of all this wicked land,

I will fill up and never once while Pelops’  house doth stand

Shall Minos idle be.

MEGAERA      Go forth thou detestable spright,

And vex the gods of wicked house with rage of furies’ might.

Let them contend with all offence, by turns and one by one

Let swords be drawn, and meane of ire procure there may be none,

Nor shame. Let fury blind enflame their minds and wrathful will,

Let yet the parents rage endure and longer lasting ill

Through children’s children spread, nor yet let any leisure be

The former fault to hate, but still more mischief new to see.

Nor one in one but ere the guilt with vengeance be acquit,

Increase the crime from brethren proud let rule of kingdom flight

To runagates  and swerving state of all unstable things.

Let it by doubtful dome be tosste between th’uncertain kings,

Let mighty fall to misery, and miser climb to might,

Let chance turn th’empire up so down both give and take the right.

The banished for guilt, when god restore their country shall,

Let them to mischief fall a fresh as hateful then to all

As to themselves. Let Ire think nought unlawful to be done,

Let brother dread the brothers’ wrath, and father fear the son,

And eke the son his parents’ power. Let babes be murdered ill,

But worse begot her spouse betrapt in treasons train to kill,

Let hateful wife await and let them bear through seas their war,

Let blood shed lie the lands about and every field afar.

And over conquering captains great of countries far to see,

Let lust triumph, in wicked house let whooredom counted be

The lightest offense let trust that in the breasts of brethren breeds,

And truth be gone, let not from sight of your so heinous deeds

The heavens be hid, about the pole when shine the stars on high,

And flames with wonted beams of light doe deck the painted sky.

Let darkst night be made, and let the day the heavens forsake.

Disturb the gods of wicked house, hate, slaughter, murder make.

Fill up the house of Tantalus with mischiefs and debates.

Adorned be the pillars high with bay and let the gates

Be garnisht green, and worthy there for thy return to sight,

Be kindled fire, let mischief done in Thracia once there light

More manifold. Wherefore doth yet the uncle’s hand delay?

Doth yet Thyestes not be wail his children’s fatal day?

Shall he not find them where with heat of fires that under glow

The cauldron boils? Their limbs each one a pieces let them go

Dispersed, let fathers fires with blood of children filled be,

Let dainties such be dresst, it is no mischief new to thee,

To banquet so. Behold, this day we have to the releast,

And hunger starved womb of thine we send to such a feast.

With foulest food thy famine fill, let blood in wine be drowned,

And drunk in sight of thee. Lo now such dishes have I found,

As thou wouldst shun, stay whither dost thou headlong way now take?

TANTALUS

To pools and floods of hell again, and still declining lake

And flight of tree full freight with fruit that from the lips doth flee,

To dungeon dark of hateful hell, let leeful  be for me

To go, or if to light be thought the pains that there I have,

Remove me from those lakes again in midst of worser wave

Of Phlegethon to stand, in seas of fire beset to be.

Who so beneath thy pointed pains by destinies’ decree

Dost still endure, who so thou be that underliest allow

The hollow den, or ruin who that fears and overthrow

Of falling hill, or cruel cries that sound in caves of hell

Of greedy roaring lions’ throats, or flock of furies fell

Who quakes to know, or who the brands of fire in direst pain

Half burnt throws off, hark to the voice of Tantalus again

That hastes to hell, and, whom the truth hath taught, believe well me

Love well your pains, they are but small. When shall my hap so be

To flee the light?

MEGAERA     Disturb thou first this house with dire discord:

Debates and battels bring with thee, and of th’unhappy sword

Ill love to kings the cruel breast strike through and hateful heart,

With tumult mad.

TANTALUS     To suffer pains it seemth well my part,

Not woes to work, I am sent forth like vapour dire to rise,

That breaks the ground, or poison like the plague in wondrous wise

That slaughter makes. Shall I to such detested crimes, apply

My nephews hearts? Oh parents great of gods above the sky,

And mine, though shamed I be to grant although with greater pain

My tongue be vext, yet this to speak I may no whit refrain,

Nor hold my peace. I warn you this, least sacred hand with blood

Of slaughter dire, or frenzy fell of frantic fury wood,

The altars stain, I will resist and guard such guilt away.

With stripes why dost thou me affright? Why threats thou me to fray

Those crawling snakes? Or famine fixt in empty womb, wherefore

Dost thou revive? Now fries within with thirst enkindled sore

My heart, and in the bowels burnt the boiling flames doe glow.

MEGAERA

I follow thee, through all this house now rage and fury throw.

Let them be driven so, and so let either thirst to see

Each others blood. Full well hath felt the coming in of thee

This house, and all with wicked touch of thee begun to quake.

Enough it is! Repair again to dens and loathsome lake

Of flood well known. The sadder soil with heavy foot of thine

Aggrieved is. Seest thou from springs how waters do decline

And inward sink? Or how the banks lie void by droughty heat?

And whotter blast of fiery wind the fewer clouds doth beat?

The trees be spoiled, and naked stand to sight in withered woods,

The barren boughs whose fruits are fled .The land between the floods

With surge of seas on either side that wonted to resound,

And nearer fords to separate sometime with lessr ground,

Now broader spread it heareth how aloof the waters rise.

Now Lerna  turns against the stream, Phoronides  likewise,

His poars  be stopt, with costumed course Alpheus drives not still,

His holly waves. The trembling tops of high Cithaeron hill

They stand not sure, from height adown they shake their silver snow,

And noble fields of Argos fear their former drought to know.

Yea Titan doubts himself, to roll the world his wonted way,

And drive by force to former course the backward drawing day.

CHORUS

This Argos town if any God be found,

and Pisey bowers that famous yet remain,

Or kingdoms else to love of Corinth’s ground,

the double heavens, or sundered seas in twain,

If any love Taygetus his snows,

by winter which when they on hills be cast,

By Boreas  blasts that from Sarmatia blows,

with yearly breath the summer melts as fast,)

Where clear Alpheus runs with flood so cold,

By plaies well known that there Olympic’s height

Let pleasant power of his from hence withhold

such turns of strife, that here they may not light.

Nor nephew worse than grandsire spring from us,

or direr deeds delight the younger age.

Let wicked stock of thirsty Tantalus,

at length leave of, and weary be of rage.

Enough is done and nought prevailed the just

or wrong, betrayed is Myrtilus and drowned

That did betray his dame, and with like trust

borne as he bare, himself hath made renowned

With changed name the sea, and better known

to mariners thereof no fable is.

On wicked sword the little infant thrown,

as ran the child to take his father’s his,

Unripe for th’altars offering, fell down dead,

and with thy hand, oh Tantalus, was rent,

With such a meat for gods thy boards to spread.

Eternal famine for such food is sent

And thirst; nor for those dainty meats unmild ,

might meeter  pain appointed ever be.

With empty throat stands Tantalus beguiled,

above thy wicked head there leans to thee,

Then Phinehas foules in flight a swifter pray

with burdened bows declined on every side,

And of his fruits all bent to bear the sway,

the tree deludes the gapes of hunger wide.

Though he full greedy feed thereon would fain,

so oft deceived neglects to touch them yet,

He turns his eyes, his jaws he doth refrain,

and famine fist in closed gums doth shet .

But then each branch his plenteous riches all

lets lower down and apples from on high

With lighter leaves they flatter like to fall,

and famine stir in vain that bids to try

His hands, which when he hath ’rought forth anon

to be beguiled, in higher air again

The harvest hangs, and fickle fruit is gone,

then thirst him grieves no less then hunger’s pain

Wherewith when kindled is his boiling blood

like fire, the wretch the waves to him doth call

That meet his mouth which straight the fleeing flood

withdraws, and from the dried ford doth fall

And him forsakes that follows them. He drinks

the dust so deep of gulph that from him shrinks.

[2]

Atreus, Servant.

[ATREUS]

Oh bastard, coward, oh wretch, and, which the greatest yet of all

To tyrants check, I count that may in weighty things befall,

Oh unrevenged! After guilts so great, and brothers’ guile,

And truth trode down, dost thou provoke with vain complaints the while

Thy wrath? Already now to rage all Argos town throughout

In armour ought of thine, and all the double seas about

Thy fleet to ride, now all the fields with fervent flames of thine,

And towns to flash it well beseem’d, and everywhere to shine,

The bright drawn sword all under foot of horse let every side

Of Argos’ land resound and let the woods not serve to hide

Our foes, nor yet in haughty top of hills and mountains high,

The builded towers the people all let them to battle cry,

And clear forsake Mycena’s town , who so his hateful head

Hides and defends, with slaughter dire let blood of him be shed.

This princely Pelops palace proud and bowers of high renown,

On me so on my brother too let them be beaten down.

Go to, do that which never shall no after age allow,

Nor none it whisht, some mischief great there must be ventured now,

Both fierce and bloody such as would my brother rather long

To have been his. Thou never dost enough revenge the wrong,

Except thou pass. And fiercer fact what may be done so dire,

That his exceeds? Doth ever he lay down his hateful ire?

Doth ever he the modest mean in time of wealth regard?

Or quiet in adversity? I know his nature hard

Intractable, that broke may be, but never will it bend.

For which ere he prepare himself, or force to fight intend,

Set first on him, least while I rest he should on me arise.

He will destroy or be destroyed, in midst the mischief lies,

Prepared to him that takes it first.

SERVANT             Doth fame of people nought

Adverse thee fear?

ATREUS       The greatest good of kingdom may be thought,

That still the people are constrained their princes’ deeds as well

To praise, as them to suffer all.

SERVANT            Whom fear doth so compel

To praise, the same his foes to be, doth fear enforce again,

But who indeed the glory seeks of favour true t’obtain,

He rather would with hearts of each be praised, then tongues of all.

ATREUS

The true praise full oft hath haptte  to meaner men to fall,

The false but unto mighty man, what will they, let them will.

SERVANT     

Let first the king will honest things, and none the same dare nill. 

ATREUS

Where leeful are to him that rules but honest things alone,

There reigns the king by others leave.

SERVANT              And where that shame is none,

Nor care of right, faith, piety, nor holiness none stayeth,

That kingdom swerves.

ATREUS    Such holiness, such pity, and faith,

Are private goods: let kings run on in that that likes their will.

SERVANT      

The brothers hurt a mischief count, though he be near so ill.

ATREUS    

It is but right to do to him, that wrong to brother were.

What heinous hurt hath his offence let pass to prove? Or where

Refrained the guilt? My spouse he stole away for lechery,

And reign by stealth: the ancient note and sign of impiety

By fraud he got, my house by fraud to vex he never ceased.

In Pelops house there fost’red is a noble worthy breast,

The close kept ram: the goodly guide of rich and fairest flocks.

By whom throughout on every side depend a down the locks

Of glittering gold, with fleece of which the new kings wonted wear

Of Tantal’s flock their sceptres guilt and mace of might to bear.

Of this the own’r raigneth he, with him of house so great

The fortune fleeth: this sacred room aloof in safety shet ,

In secret mead is wont to grace, which stone on every side

With rocky wall encloseth round the fatal beast to hide.

This beast, adventuring mischief great, adjoining yet for pray,

My spoused mate the traitor false hath hence conveyed away.

From hence the wrongs of mutual hate and mischief all up sprong :

In exile wandered he throughout my kingdoms all along,

No part of mine remainth safe to me from trains of his.

My fierce defloured and loyalty of empire broken is:

My house all vext, my blood in doubt, and nought that trust is in,

But brother foe. What stayst thou yet? At length lo now begin,

Take heart of Tantalus to thee, to Pelops cast thine eye,

To such examples well beseems, I should my hands apply.

Tell thou which way were best to bring that cruel head to death.

SERVANT

Through pierced with sword let him be slain and yield his hateful breathe.

ATREUS

Thou speakst of th’end: but I him would oppress with greater pain.

Let tyrants vex with torment more should ever in my reign

Be gentle death?

SERVANT  Doth piety in thee prevail, no whit?

ATREUS

Depart thou hence all piety, if in this house as yet

Thou ever were, and now let all the flock of furies dire,

And full of strife Erinyes come, and double brands of fire

Megaera shaking, for not yet enough with fury great

And rage doth burn my boiling breast: it ought to be replete,

With monster more.

SERVANT       What mischief new dost thou in rage provide?

ATREUS

Not such a one as may the mean of wonted grief abide.

No guilt will I forbear, nor none may be enough despite.

SERVANT

What sword?

ATREUS   Too little that.

SERVANT         What fire?

ATREUS                And that is yet too light.

SERVAN T

What weapon then shall sorrow such find fit to work thy will?

ATREUS

Thyestes self.

SERVANT    Then ire itself yet that’s a greater ill.

ATREUS

I grant: a tumbling tumult quakes within my bosoms lo,

And round it rolls, I moved am and wot not whereunto.

But drawn I am from bottom deep the roaring soil doth cry

The day so fair with thunder sounds, and house as all from high

Were rent, from roof, and rafters cracks, and lairs turned about

Have wried  their sight, so beet, so beet, let mischief such be sought,

As ye, oh gods, would fear.

SERVANT          What thing seekste thou to bring to pass?

I note what greater thing my mind, and more then wont it was

Above the reach that men are wont to work, begins to swell

And stayth with slothful hands. What thing it is I cannot tell,

But great it is. Beet so, my mind now in this feat proceed,

For Atreus and Thyestes both, it were a worthy deed.

Let each of us the crime commit. The Thracian house did see

Such wicked tables once, I grant the mischief great to be,

But done ere this some greater guilt and mischief more, let ire

Find out. The stomach of thy son, oh father, thou inspire,

And sister eke, like is the cause, assist me with your power,

And drive my hand, let greedy parents all his babes devour,

And glad to rent his children be and on their limbs to feed.

Enough, and well it is devised: this pleaseth me indeed.

In mean time where is he? So long and innocent wherefore

Doth Atreus walk? Before mine eyes already more and more

The shade of such a slaughter walks, the want of children cast

In father’s jaws. But why my mind, yet dreadst thou so at last,

And faintest before thou enterprise? It must be done, let be.

That which in all this mischief is the greatest guilt to see,

Let him commit.

SERVANT     But what deceit may we for him prepare,

Whereby betrapt he may be drawn to fall into the snare?

He wots fall well we are his foes.

ATREUS             He could not taken be

Except himself would take, but now my kingdoms hopeth he.

For hope of this he would not fear to meet the mighty Jove,

Though him he threatened to destroy, with lightning from above.

For hope of this to pass the threats of waves he will not fail,

Nor dread no whit by doubtful shelves, of Lybic seas to sail.

For hope of this, which thing he doth the worst of all believe,

He will his brother see.

SERVANT   Who shall of peace the promise give?

Whom will he trust?

ATREUS   His evil hope will soon believe it well.

Yet to my sons the charge which they shall to their uncle tell,

We will commit that home he would from exile come again,

And miseries for kingdom change, and over Argos reign

A king of half, and though to hard of hart our prayers all

Himself despise, his children yet nought wonting what may fall,

With travels tired, and apt to be enticed from misery,

Requests will move: on th’one side his desire of Empery,

On th’other side his poverty and labour hard to see,

Will him subdue and make to yield, although full stout he bee.

SERVANT

His travels now the time hath made to seem to him but small.

ATREUS

Not so: for day by day the grief of ill increaseth all.

’T is light to suffer miseries, but heavy them t’endure.

SERVANT

Yet other messengers to send, in such affairs procure.

ATREUS

The younger sort the worse precepts do easily hark’n to.

SERVANT

What thing against their uncle now, you them instruct to do,

Perhaps with you to work the like, they will not be a dread.

Such mischief wrought hath oft returned upon the workers head.

ATREUS

Though never man to them the ways of guile and gilt have taught,

Yet kingdom will. Fearst thou they should be made by counsel naught?

They are so borne. That which thou cast a cruel enterprise,

And direly deemest done to be, and wickedly likewise,

Perhaps is wrought against me there.

SERVANT      And shall your sons of this

Deceit be ’ware that work you will? No secretness there is

In their so green and tender years: they will your trains disclose.

ATREUS

A privy counsel close to keep is learned with many woes.

SERVANT

And will ye them, by whom ye would he should beguiled bee,

Themselves beguiled?

ATREUS    Nay let them both from faut and blame be free.

For what shall need in mischiefs such as I to work intend

To mingle them? Let all my hate by me alone take end.

Thou leavste thy purpose ill my mind: if thou thine own forbear,

Thou sparest him. Wherefore of this let Agamemnon hear

Be minister and client eke of mine for such a deed,

Let Menelaus present be, truth of th’uncertain seed,

By such a practice may be tried: if it refuse they shall,

Nor of debate will bearers be, if they him uncle call,

He is their father, let them go. But much the fearful face

Bewrays itself, even him that feigns the secret weighty case,

Doth oft betray, let them therefore not know how great a guile

They go about. And thou these things in secret keep the while.

SERVANT

I need not warned be, for these within my bosom deep,

Both faith, and fear, but chiefly faith, doth shot and closely keep.

CHORUS

The noble house at length of high renown,

the famous stock of ancient Inachus ,

Appeased and laid the threats of brethren down.

But now what fury stirs and dives you thus,

Each one to thirst the others blood again,

or get by guilt the golden mace in hand?

Ye little wot that so desire to tain ,

in what estate or place doth kingdom stand.

Not ritches make a king or high renown,

Not garnisht weed with purple Tyrian dye,

Not lofty looks, or head enclosed with crown,

not glittering brames  with gold and turrets high.

A king he is, that fear hath laid aside,

and all affects that in the breast are bred

Whom impotent ambition doth not guide,

nor fickle favour hash of people led.

Nor all that west in metals mines hath found,

or th’anell clear of golden Tagus shows,

Nor all the grain that thrashed is on ground,

that with the heat of Libyc harvest glows.

Nor whom the flash of lightning flame shall beat,

nor eastern wind that smiles upon the seas,

Nor swelling surge with rage of wind repleat,

or greedy gulph of Adria displease.

Whom not the prick of soldiers sharpest spear,

or pointed pike in hand hath made to rue,

Nor whom the glimpse of sword might cause to fear,

or bright drawn blade of glittering steel subdue.

Who in the seat of safety setts his feet,

beholds all haps how under him they lie,

And gladly runs his fatal day to meet,

nor ought complains or grudgeth for to die.

Though present were the princes every chawn,

the scattered Dakes to chase that wonted be,

That shining seas beset with precious stone,

and red sea coasts do hold like blood to see

Or they which else the Caspian mountains high,

from Sarmats strong with all their power withhold,

Or he that on the flood of Danube

in frost a foot to travel dare be bold:

Or sires in whatever place they lie,

renowned with fleece that there of silk doth spring,

They never might the truth hereof deny,

it is the mind that only makes a king.

There is no need of sturdy steeds in war,

no need with arms or arrows else to fight,

That Parthus wonts with bow to fling from far,

while from the field he falsely feigneth flight.

Nor yet to siege no need it is to bring,

great goons in carts to overthrow the wall,

That from far of their battering pellets sling.

a king he is that fearth nought at all.

Each man himself this kingdom gives at hand.

let who so list with mighty mace to reign,

In tickle top of court delight to stand,

let me the sweet and quiet rest obtain.

So set in place obscure and low degree

of pleasant rest I shall the sweetness know.

My life unknown to them that noble be,

shall in the step of secret silence go.

Thus, when my days at length are overpast,

and time without all troublous tumult spent,

An aged man I shall depart at last,

In mean estate, to die full well content.

But grievous is to him the death, that when

so far abroad the bruit of him is blown,

That known he is too much to other men,

departeth yet unto himself unknown.

[3.1]

Thyestes, Philistines.

[THYESTES]

My country bowers so long wisht for and Argos riches all,

Chief good that unto banisht men, and misers may befall,

The touch of soil where born I was and gods of native’s land,

If gods they be, and sacred towers I see of Cyclops’ hand

That represent then all man’s work, a greater majesty.

Renowned stadies  to my youth, where noble sometime I

Have not so sealed as once the palm in father’s chariot woon .

All Argos now to meet with me, and people fast will run,

But Atreus too. Yet rather lead in woods again thy flight,

And bushes thick, and hid among the brutish breasts from sight,

Like life to theirs where splendent pomp of court and princely pride

May not with flattering fulgent face allure thine eyes aside.

With whom the kingdom given is, behold, and well regard

Beset but late with such mishaps as all men count full hard,

I stout and joyful was, but now again thus into fear

I am returned. My mind misdoubts and backward seeks to bear

My body hence, and forth I draw my pace against my will.

PHILISTINES

With slothful step, what meaneth this? My father standth still,

And turns his face and holds himself, in doute what thing to do.

THYESTES

What thing, my mind, considerst thou? Or else so long where to

Dost thou so easy counsel wrest? Wilt thou to things unsure

Thy brother and the kingdom trust? Fearst thou those ills t’endure

Now overcome, and milder made? And travails dost thou flee

That well were placed? In the anayles , a miser now to be,

Turn hence thy pace while leeful  is and keep thee from his hand.

PHILISTINES

What cause the drives, oh father dear! Thus from thy native land,

Now seen to shrink? What makes thee thus from things so good at last

Withdraw thyself? Thy brother comes whose ires be overpast,

And half the kingdom gives, and of the house dilacerate

Repairs the parts and thee restores again to former state.

THYESTES

The cause of fear that I know not, thou dost require to hear.

I see nothing that makes me dread, and yet I greatly fear.

I would go on, but yet my limbs with weary legs doe slack

And other way then I would pass, I am withhold’n’ back

So oft the ship that driven is with wind and eke with ore,

The swelling surge resisting both, beats back upon the shore.

PHILISTINES

Yet overcome whatever stays, and thus doth let your mind,

And see what are at your return, prepared for you to find.

You may, oh father, reign.

THYESTES         I may but then when die I miught.

PHILISTINES

Chief thing is power.

THYESTES      Nought worth at all, if thou desire it nought.

PHILISTINES

You shall it to your children leave.

THYESTES            The kingdom takes not twain.

PHILISTINES

Who may be happy, rather would he miser yet remain?

THYESTES   

Believe me well, with titles false the great things us delight

And heavy haps in vain are feared, while high I stood in sight,

I never stinted then to quake, and self-same sword to fear,

That hanged by mine own side was, Oh how great good it were,

With none to strive, but careless food to eat and rest to know?

The greater guilts they enter not in cottage set allow,

And safer food is fed upon, at narrow board alway ,

While drunk in gold the poison is by proof well taught I say,

That evil haps before the good to love it likes my will.

Of haughty house that stands aloft in tickle top of hill,

And sways aside, the city low need never be affright,

Nor in the top of roof above, there shines no ivory bright,

Nor watchman none defends my sleeps by night, or guards my rest,

With flette  I fish not, nor the seas I have not backward pressed,

Nor turned to flight with builded wall, nor wicked belly I

With taxes of the people fed, nor parcel none doth lie,

Of ground of mine beyond the Getes and Parthians far about,

Nor worshiped with frankincense I am, nor, Jove shot out,

My altars decked are, nor none in top of house doth stand

In garden trees, nor kindled yet with help of each man’s hand,

The bathes do smoke, nor yet are days in slothful slumbers led,

Nor nights passed forth in watch and wine without the rest of bed.

We nothing fear, the house is safe without the hidden knife,

And poor estate the sweetness feels, of rest and quiet life.

Great kingdom is to be content, without the same to live.

PHILISTINES

Yet should it not refused be, if god the kingdom give.

THYESTES

Not yet desired it ought to be.

PHILISTINES          Your brother bids you reign.

THYESTES

Bids he? The more is to be feared, there lurketh there some train.

PHILISTINES

From whence it fell, yet piety is wont to turn at length:

And love unfeigned repairs again his erst omitted strength.

THYESTES

Doth Atreus then his brother love? Each Ursa  first on high,

The seas shall wash, and swelling surge of seas of Sicily

Shall rest and all asswaged be, and corn to ripeness grow

In bottom of Ionian seas, and dark’st night shall show

And spread the light about the soil, the waters with the fire,

The life with death, the wind with seas, shall friendship first require,

And be at league.

PHILISTINES    Of what deceit are you so dreadful here?

THYESTES   

Of every chawn, what end at length might I provide of fear?

In all he can he hateth me.

PHILISTINES       To you what hurt can he?

THYESTES

As for myself I nothing dread, you little babes make me

Afraid of him.

PHILISTINES Dread ye to be beguiled when caught ye are?

Too late it is to shoon  the train in middle of the snare.

But go we on, this, father, is to you my last request.

THYESTES   

I follow you. I lead you not.

PHILISTINES        God turn it to the best,

That well devised is for good, pass forth with cheerful pace.

[3.2]

Atreus, Thyestes.

[ATREUS]

Entrapt in train the beast is taught and in the snare doth fall:

Both him, and eke of haled stock with him the offspring all,

About the father’s side I see, and now in safety stands

And surest ground my wrathful hate, now comes into my hands

At length Thyestes, ye he comes and all at once to me.

I scant refrain myself, and scant may anger bridled be.

So when the bloodhound seeks the beast, by step and quick of sent

Draws in the leam, and pace by pace to wind the ways he went,

With nose to soil doth hunt, while he the boar aloof hath found

Far off by sent, he yet refrains and wanders through the grounds

With silent mouth, but when at hand he once perceives the pray,

With all the strength he hath he strives, with voice and calls away

His lingering maister , and from him by force out breakth he.

When ire doth hope the present blood, it may not hidden be.

Yet let it hidden be, behold, with ugly hear to sight

How irksomely deformed with filth his foulest face is dight,

How loathsome lies his beard unkempt, but let us friendship fain.

To see my brother me delights! Give now to me again

Embracing long desired for, whatever strife there was

Before this time between us twain, forget and let it pass,

From this day forth let brothers love, let blood, and law of kind

Regarded be, let all debate be slaked in eithers mind.

THYESTES

I could excuse myself, except thou wert as now thou art.

But Atreus, now I grant, the faut is mine in every part,

And I offended have in all, my cause the worse to be,

Your this days kindness makes, in deed a guilty wight is he,

That would so good a brother hurt as you, in any whit.

But now with tears I must entreat and first I me submit,

These hands that at thy feet doe lie, do thee beseech and pray,

That ire and hate be laid aside, and from thy bosom may

Be scraped out and clear forgot. For pledges take thou these

O brother dear, these guiltless babes.

ATREUS                Thy hands yet from my knees

Remove, and rather me to take in arms, upon me fall.

And ye, oh aides of elders age, ye little infants all.

Me clip and coll  about the neck, this foule attire forsake,

And spare mine eyes that pity it, and fresher vesture take

Like mine to see, and you with joy, the half of empery

Dear brother take, the greater praise shall come to me thereby,

Our father’s seat to yield to you, and brother to relieve.

To have a kingdom is but chance, but virtue it to give.

THYESTES

A lust reward for such deserts, the gods, oh brother dear!

Repay to thee, but on my head a regal crown to wear,

My loathsome life denies, and far doth from the sceptre flee

My hand unhappy, in the midst let leeful be for me

Of men to lurk.

ATREUS     This kingdom can with twain full well agree.

THYESTES

Whatever is, oh brother, yours, I count it mine to be.

ATREUS

Who would dame fortune’s gifts refuse, if she him raise to reign?

THYESTES

The gifts of her each man it wots, how soon they pass again.

ATREUS

Ye me deprive of glory great, except ye th’empire take.

THYESTES

You have your praise in offering it, and I it to forsake.

And full persuaded to refuse the kingdom, am I still.

ATREUS

Except your part ye will sustain mine own forsake I will.

THYESTES

I take it then, and bear I will the name thereof alone,

The rights and arms, as well as mine they shall be yours each one.

ATREUS

The regal crown as you beseems upon your head then take,

And I th’appointed sacrifice for gods, will now go make.

CHORUS.

Would any man it ween? That cruel wight

Atreus, of mind so impotent to see

Was soon astonied with his brother’s sight,

no greater force then pity may be:

Where kindred is not, lasteth every threat,

whom true love holds, it holds eternally.

The wrath but late with causes kindled great

all favour brake, and did to battle cry,

When horsemen did resound on every side,

the swords each where then glistered more and more:

Which raging Mars with often stroke did guide

the fresher blood to shed yet thirsting sore.

But love the sword against their wills doth swage,

and them to peace persuades with hand in hand.

So sudden rest, amid so great a rage

what god hath made? Throughout Mycena’s land

The harness clinkt, but late of civil strife

and for their babes did fearful mothers quake,

Her armed spouse to lease much feared the wife

when sword was made the scabbardt to forsake,

That now by vest with rust was overgrown,

come to repair the walls that did decay,

And some to strength the towers half overthrown,

and some the gates with gyns of iron to stay

Full busy were, and dreadful watch by night

from turret high did overlook the town.

Worse is then wart itself the fear of fight.

Now are the threats of cruel sword laid down,

And now the rumour whists  of battles sown,

the noise of crooked trumpet silent lies,

And quiet peace returns to joyful town.

So when the waves of swelling surge arise,

While Corus  wind the Brutian  seas doth smight,

and Scylla sounds from hollow caves within,

And shipmen are with wafting waves affright,

Charybdis casts that erst it had drunk in:

And Cyclops fierce his father yet doth dread,

in Actna bank that fervent is with heats,

Leste quenched be with waves that overshed

the fire that from eternal furnace beats:

And poor Laertes thinks his kingdoms all

may drowned be, and Ithaca doth quake.

If once the force of winds begin to fall,

the sea lieth down more mild then standing lake.

The deep, where ships so wide full dreadful were

to pass, with sails on either side out spread

Now fallen adown, the less’r boat doth bear

and leisure is to view the fishes dead.

Even there, where late with tempest bet upon

the shaken Cyclades were with seas agast .

No state endures, the pain and pleasure, one

to other yields, and joys be soonest past.

One hour setts up the things that lowest be.

He that the crowns to princes doth divide,

Whom people please with bending of the knee,

and at whose back their battles lay aside

The Meades, and Indians eke to Phebus nigh,

and Dakes that Parthians do with horsemen threat,

Himself yet holds his sceptres doubtfully,

and men of might he fears and chances great

(That each estate may turn) and doubtful hour.

Oh ye, whom lord of land and waters wide,

Of life and death grants here to have the power,

lay ye your proud and lofty looks aside:

What your inferior fears of you amiss,

that your superior threats to you again.

To greater king, each king a subject is

whom dawn of day hath scene in pride to reign,

Him overthrown hath seen the evening late.

Let none rejoice too much that good hath got,

Let none despair of best in worst estate

for Clotho mingles all, and sufferth not

Fortune to stand, but fates about doth drive,

such friendship find with gods yet no man might,

That he the morrow might be sure to live.

The god our things all toss’t and turn’d quite

Rolls with a whirlwind.

[4]

Messenger, Chorus.

[MESSENGER]

What whirlwind may me headlong drive and up in air me fling,

And wrap in darkst cloud, whereby it might so heinous thing,

Take from mine eyes? Oh wicked house that even of Pelops ought

And Tantalus abhorred be.

CHORUS           What new thing hast thou brought?

MESSENGER

What land is this? Lieth Sparta here, and Argos, that hath bred

so wicked brethren? And the ground of Corinth lying spread

Between the seas? Or Ister elsewhere wont to take their flight,

Are people wild? Or that which wonts with snow to shine so bright

Hyrcana laude? Or else do here the wandering Scythians dwell?

CHORUS

What monstrous mischief is this place then guilty of? That tell,

And this declare to us at large whatever be the ill.

MESSENGER

If once my mind may stay itself, and quaking limbs I will.

But yet of such a cruel deed before mine eyes the fear

And image walks, ye raging storms now far from hence me bear

And to that place me drive, to which now driven is the day

Thus drawn from hence.

CHORUS         Our minds ye hold yet still in doubtful stay.

Tell what it is ye so abort. The author thereof show.

I ask not who, but which of them, that quickly let us know.

MESSENGER

In Pelops turret high, a part there is of palace wide

That to ward the south erected leans, of which the utter side

With equal top to mountain stands, and on the city lies,

And people proud against their prince if once the traitors rise

Hath underneath his battering stroke: there shines the place in sight

Where wont the people to frequent, whose golden beams so bright

The noble spotted pillars grey of marble do support.

Within this place well known to men, where they so oft resort,

To many other rooms about the noble court doth go.

The privy palace underlieth in secret place aloe,

With ditch full deep that doth enclose the wood of privity ,

And hidden parts of kingdom old where never grew no tree

That cheerful bows is wont to bear, with knife or lopped be,

But tax, and cypress, and with tree of holm full black to see

Doth beck and bend the wood so darks aloft above all these

The higher oak doth overlook, surmounting all the trees.

From hence with luck the reign to take, accustomed are the kings,

From hence in danger aide to ask, and doom in doubtful things.

To this affixed are the gifts, the sounding trumpets bright,

The chariots broke, and spoils of sea that now Myrtoan  hight,

There hang the wheels once won by craft of falser axel tree,

And every other conquests note: here leeful is to see

The Phrygian tyre of Pelops head, the spoil of enemies here,

And of Barbarian triumph left, the paint’d gorgeous gear.

A loathsome spring stands under shade, and slothful course doth take,

With water black, even such as is, of irksome Stygian lake

The ugly wave, whereby are wont, to swear the gods on high.

Here all the night the grisly ghosts and gods of death to cry

The fame reports, with clinking chains resounds the wood each where,

The sprights cry out, and everything that dreadful is to hear,

May there be seen of ugly shapes from old sepulchres sent

A fearful flock doth wander there, and in that place frequent

Worse things than ever yet were known, ye all the wood full oft

With flame is wont to flash, and all the higher trees aloft

Without a fire doe burn, and oft the wood beside all this

With triple barking roars at once, full oft the palace is

Affright with shapes, nor light of day may once the terror quell.

Eternal night doth hold the place, and darkness there of hell

In mid-day reigns. From hence to them that pray, out of the ground

The certain answers given are, what time with dreadful sound

From secret place the fates be told, and dungeon roars within

While of the God breaks out the voice, whereto when entered in

Fierce Atreus was, that did with him his brothers children trail,

Dekt are the altars: who, alas, may it enough bewail?

Behind the infants backs anon he knit their noble hands,

And eke their heavy heads about he bound with purple bands,

There wanted there no frankincense, nor yet the holy wine,

Nor knife to cut the sacrifice, besprinkt with leavens fine.

Kept is in all the order due, least such a mischief great

Should not be ordered well.

CHORUS          Who doth his hand on sword then set?

MESSENGER

He is himself the priest, and he himself the deadly verse

With prayer dire from fervent mouth doth sing and oft rehearse.

And he at th’altars stands himself, he them assigned to die

Doth handle, and in order set, and to the knife apply,

He lights the fires, no rights were lefts of sacrifice undone.

The wood taken quakte, and all at once from trembling ground anon

The palace backed, in doubt which way the peise  thereof would fall,

And shaking as in waves it stood from th’air and therewithal

A blazing star that foulest train drew after him doth go.

The wines that in the fires were cast, with changed liquor flow

And turn to blood, and twice or thrice th’attire fell from his head,

The ivory bright in Temples seemed to weep and tears to shed.

The sights amazed all other men, but steadfast yet always

Of mind, unmoved Atreus stands, and even the gods doth fray

That threaten him, and all delay forsaken by and by

To th’altars turns, and therewithal a side he looks awry.

As hungry tiger wonts that doth in gangey woods remain

With doubtful pace to range and roam between the bullocks twain,

Of either pray full covetous, and yet uncertain where

She first may bite, and roaring throat now turns the tone to tear

And then to th’other straight returns, and doubtful famine holds.

So, Atreus dire, between the babes doth stand and them beholds

On whom he points to slake his ire. First slaughter where to make,

He doubts, or whom he should again for second offering take,

Yet skills it nought, but yet he doubts, and such a cruelty

It him delights to order well.

CHORUS           Whom take he first to die?

MESSENGER

First place, least in him think ye might no piety to remain

To grandsire dedicated is, first Tantalus is slain.

CHORUS

With what a mind and countenance could the boy his death sustain?

MESSENGER

All careless of himself he stood, nor once he would in vain

His prayers lease. But Atreus fierce the sword in him at last

In deep and deadly wound doth hide to hilts and griping fast

His throat in hand he thrust him through. The sword then drawn away

When long the body had upheld itself in doubtful stay,

Which way to fall, at length upon the uncle down it falls.

And then to th’altars cruelly Philistines he tralls, 

And on his brother throws and straight his neck off cut’th he.

The carcase headlong falls to ground: a piteous thing to see,

The mourning head with murmur yet uncertain doth complain.

CHORUS

What after double death doth he and slaughter then of twain?

Spares he the child? Or guilt on guilt again yet heapeth he?

MESSENGER

As long maned Lion fierce amid the wood of Armenie,

The drove pursues and conquest makes of slaughter many one,

Though now defiled be his jaws with blood, and hunger gone

Yet slaketh not his ireful rage, with blood of bulls so great,

But slothful now, with weary tooth the lesser calves doth threat

None otherwise doth Atreus rage, and swells with anger strained,

And holding now the sword in hand with double slaughter stained,

Regarding not where fell his rage with cursed hand unmild 

He strake it through his body quite: at bosom of the childe

The blade goth in and at the back again out went the same.

He falls, and quenching with his blood the altars sacred flame

Of either wound at length he dieth.

CHORUS              Oh heinous hateful act!

MESSENGER

Abhor ye this? Ye hear not yet the end of all the fact,

There follows more.

CHORUS       A fiercer thing, or worse than this to see

Could nature bear?

MESSENGER     Why think ye this of guilt the end to be?

It is but part.

CHORUS   What could he more? To cruel beasts he cast

Perhaps their bodies to be torn and kept from tyres at last.

MESSENGER

Would god he had, that never tomb the dead might over hide,

Nor flames dissolve, though them for food to foules in pastures wide

He had out thrown, or them for pray to cruel beasts would fling.

That which the worst was wont to be, were here a wished thing

That them their father saw untombed, but, oh more cursed crime!

Uncredible, the which deny will men of after time:

From bosoms yet alive out drawn the trembling bowels shake,

The veins yet breathe, the fearful hart doth yet both pant and quake,

But he the strings doth turn in hand, and destinies behold,

And of the guts the signs each one doth view not fully cold.

When him the sacrifice had pleased, his diligence he puts

To dress his brother’s banquet now, and straight asunder cuts

The bodies into quarters all, and by the stumps anon

The shoulders wide, and brawns of arms, he strikes of every thone .

He lays abroad their naked limbs, and cuts away the bones,

The only heads he keeps and hands to him committed ones.

Some of the guts are broached and in the fires that burn full slow

They drop, the boiling liquor some doth tumble to and fro,

In morning cauldron from the flesh that over stands aloft

The fire doth file and scatter out and into chimney oft

Up heapt again, and there constrained by force to tarry yet

Unwilling burns, the liver makes great noise upon the spit,

Nor easily, wot I, if the flesh or flames they be that cry,

But cry they do, the fire like pitch it fumeth by and by,

Nor yet the smoke itself so sad like filthy mist in sight

Ascendth up as wont it is, nor takes his way upright,

But even the gods and house it doth with filthy fume defile.

Oh patient Phoebus though from hence thou backward flee the while

And in the midst of heaven above dost drown the broken day

Thou fleest too late, the father eats his children well away,

And limbs to which he once gave life with cursed jaw doth tear.

He shines with ointment shed full sweet all round about his heat,

Replete with wine and oftentimes so cursed kind of food

His mouth hath held that would not down but yet this one thing good

In all thy ills Thyestes is, that them thou dost not know.

And yet shall that not long endure, though Titan backward go

And chariots turn against himself to meet the ways he went,

And heavy night so heinous deed to keep from sight be sent,

And out of time from east arise, so foul a fact to hide,

Yet shall the whole at length be seen: thy ills shall all be spied.

CHORUS

Which way, oh prince of lands and gods on high

at whose uprise eftsones of shadowed night

All beauty fleeth, which way turnst thou awry?

And drawst ye day in midst of heaven to flight?

Why dost thou Phebus hide from us thy sight?

Not yet the watch that later hour bring in,

Doth vesper warn the stars to kindle light.

Not yet doth turn of Hesper’s wheel begin

To lose thy chare his well-deserved way.

The trumpet third not yet hath blown his blast

While toward the night begins to yield the day,

great wonder hath of sudden suppers haste

The ploughman yet whose oxen are untired,

from wonted course of heaven what draws thee back?

What causes have from certain race conspired

to turn thy horse? Do yet from dungeon black

Of hollow Hell, the conquered giants prove

a fresh assault? Doth Tityus yet assay

With trenched heart and wound womb to move

the former ires? Or from the hill away

Hath now Typhus’ wound his side by might?

Is up to heaven the way erected high

Of phlegrey  foes by mountains set upright?

And now doth Ossa Pelion overlie?

The wonted turns are gone of day and night,

the rise of sun, nor fall shall be no more.

Aurora dewish mother of the light

that wonts to send the horses out before

Doth wonder much again returned to see

her dawning light she wots not how to ease

The weary wheels, nor manes that smoking be

of horse with sweat to bathe amid the seas.

Himself unwonted there to lodge likewise

doth setting sun again the morning see,

And now commands the darkness up to rise

before the night to come prepared be.

About the pole yet glowth no fire in sight

nor light of moon the shades doth comfort yet.

What so it be god grant it be the night,

our hearts do quake with fear oppress’d great,

And dreadful are least heaven and earth and all

with fatal ruin shaken shall decay

And least on gods again and men shall fall

disfigured Chaos, and the land away

The seas, and sires, and of the glorious skies

the wandering lamps least nature yet shall hide.

Now shall no more with blase of his uprise

the lord of stars that leads the world so wide

Of summer both and winter give the marks;

nor yet the moon with Phoebus’ fames that burns,

shall take from us by night the dreadful carcass

with swifter course or pass her brothers’ turns,

While compass less she fetts in crooked race,

the Gods on heaps shall out of order fall

And each with other mingled be in place,

the wried  way of holly planets all

With path a slope that doth divide the zones,

that bears the signs and years in course doth bring,

Shall see the stars with him fall down at once

and he that first not yet with gentle spring

The temperate gale doth give to sails, the ram

shall headlong fall a down to seas again,

Through which he once with fearful Hellen swam,

next him the bull that doth with horn sustain

The sisters seven, with him shall overturn

The twins, and arms of crooked cancer all.

The Lion whot , that wonts the soil to burn,

of Hercules again from heaven shall fall.

To lands once left the virgin shall be thrown,

and levelled pace of balance sway allow,

And draw with them the stinging Scorpion down

so likewise he that holds in Thessale bow

His swift well feathered arrows, Chiron old,

shall break the same and eke shall lese his shot.

And Capricorn that brings the winter cold

shall overturn and break thy water pot

Who so thou be and down with thee to ground,

the last of all the signs shall Pisces fall.

And monsters eke in seas yet never drown’d,

the water gulph shall overwhelm them all.

And he which doth between each Ursa glide,

like croaked flood, the slipper serpent twin’d:

And lesser beat by greater dragon’s side,

full cold with frost congealed hard by kind

And carter dull that slowly guides his wain,

unstable shall Boötes fall from high,

We are thought meet of all men whom again,

should huge heap of Chaos over lie,

And world oppress with overturned mass,

the latest age now falleth us upon.

With evil hap we are begot alas,

if wretch’s we have lost the sight of son,

Or him by fraught enforced have to fly,

let our complaints yet go, and fear be past:

He greedy is of life, that will not die

when all the world shall end with him at last.

[5.1]

Atreus alone.

Now equal with the stars I go, beyond each other wight,

with haughty hid the heavens about, and highst pole I smight.

The kingdom now estate I held where once my father reigned.

I now let go the gods, for all my will I have obtained

Enough and well, ye even enough for me I am acquit

But why enough? I will proceed, and fill the father yet

With blood of his, least any shame should me restrain at all,

The day is gone, go to therefore, while thee the heaven doth call.

Would god I could against their wills not hold the gods that flee,

And of revenging dish constrain them witnesses to be,

But yet, which well enough is wrought, let it the father see.

In spight of all the drowned day, I will remove from thee

The darkness all, in shade whereof do luck thy miseries.

And guest at such a banquet now to long he careless lies,

With merry face, now eat and dronk enough he hath, at last

T’is best himself should know his ills. Ye servants all, in haste

Under the temple doors, and let the house be open all,

Fain would I see, when look upon his children’s heads he shall

What countenance he then would make, or in what words break out

Would first his grief, or how would quake his body round about

With spright amazed sore, of all my work the fruit were this.

I would him not a miser see but while so made he is.

Behold the temple opened now doth shine with many a light:

In glittering gold and purple seats he sits himself upright,

And staying up his heavy head with wine, upon his hand,

He belcheth out: “now chief of gods, in highest place I stand,

And king of kings: I have my wise and more then I could think!”

He tilled is, he now the wine in silver hull doth drink.

And spare it not, there yet remains a worser draught for thee

That sprung out of the bodies late of sacrifices three,

Which wine shall hide, let therewithal the boards be taken up.

The father, mingled with the wine, his children’s blood shall sup,

That would have drunk of mine, behold, he now begins to strain

His voice and sings, nor yet for joy his mind he may refrain.

[5.2]

Thyestes alone.

O beaten bosoms dulled so long with woe,

lay down your cares, at length your grieves relent,

Let sorrow pass, and all your dread let go,

and fellow eke of fearful banishment,

Sad poverty and ill in misery

the shame of cares, more whence thy fall thou haste,

Then whether, skills, great hap to him from high

that falls, it is in surety to be placed

Beneath. And great it is to him again

that presst with storm of evils feels the smart,

Of kingdom lost the peises to sustain

with neck unbowed, nor yet deject of heart

Nor overcome his heavy haps always

to bear upright. But now of careful carcass

Shake off the shores , and of thy wretched days

away with all the miserable marks.

To joyful state return thy cheerful face.

put fro thy milled, the old Thyestes hence.

It is the worst of wight in woeful case

in state of joy to have no confidence.

Though better haps to them returned be,

Th’afflicted yet to joy it irketh sore.

Why callest thou me aback, and hindrest me

this happy day to celebrate? Wherefore

Bidst thou me, sorrow, weep without a cause?

Who doth me let with flowers so fresh and gay

To deck my hairs? It lets and me withdraws,

down from my head the roses fall away,

My moisted hair with ointment overall

with sudden maze stands up in wondrous wise.

From face that would not weep the streams do fall

and howling cries amid my words arise.

My sorrow yet th’accustomed tears doth love.

and wretches still delight to weep and cry.

Unpleasant plaints it pleaseth them to move

and florisht fair it likes with Tyrian die,

Their robes to rent, to wail it likes them still

for sorrow sends, in sign that woes draw nigh,

The mind that wotts before or after ill.

The sturdy storms the shipmen overly

When void of wind th’assuaged seas do rest,

what tumult yet or countenance to see

Makste thou mad man? At length a trustful breast

to brother give, whatever now it be,

Causeless, or els to late thou art a dread.

I wretch would not so fear, but yet me draws

A trembling terror, down mine eyes do shed

their sudden tears, and yet I know no cause.

Is it a grief, or fear? Or ells hath tears

great joy itself?

[5.3]

Atreus. Thyestes.

[ATREUS]

Let us this day with one consent, oh brother, celebrate.

This day my sceptres may confirm and ’stablish my estate

And faithful bond of peace and love between us ratify.

THYESTES

Enough with meat and eke with wine, now satisfied am I.

But yet of all my joys it were a great increase to me

If now about my side I might my little children see.

ATREUS

Believe that here even in thine arms thy children present be.

For here they are, and shall be here, no part of them fro’ thee

Shall be withheld, their loved looks now give to the I will,

And with the heap of all his babes, the father fully fill.

Thou shalt be glutted, fear thou not, they with my boys as yet

The joyful sacrifices make at board where children sit.

They shall be called, the friendly cup now take of curtesy

With wine upfilled.

THYESTES      Of brothers feast I take full willingly

The final gift, shed some to gods of this our father’s land,

Then let the rest be drunk! What’s this? In no wise will my hand

Obey, the peise increaseth sore, and down mine arm doth sway.

And from my lips the wafting wine itself doth fly away,

And in deceived mouth about my jaws it runneth round,

The table too, itself doth shake, and leap from trembling ground.

Scant burns the fire, the air itself with heavy cheer to sight

Forsook of sun amazed is between the day and night.

What meaneth this? Yet more and more of backward beaten sky

The compass falls, and thicker mist the world doth overly

Then blackst darkness, and the night in night itself doth hide.

All stars be fled, what so it be, my brother god provide

And sons to spare, the gods so grant that all this tempest fall

On this vile head, but now restore to me my children all.

ATREUS

I will, and never day again shall them from thee withdraw.

THYESTES

What tumult tumbleth so my guts, and doth my bowels gnaw?

What quakes within? With heavy pace I feel myself opprest,

And with another voice then mine bewails my doleful breast.

Come near my sons, for you now doth th’unhappy father call:

Come near, for you once seen, this grief would soon assuage and fall.

Whence murmur they?

ATREUS        With fathers arms embrace them quickly now,

For here they are lo come to thee, dost thou thy children know?

THYESTES

I know my brother, such a guilt yet canst thou suffer well

oh earth to bear? Nor yet from hence to stygian lake of hell

Dost thou both drown thyself and us? Nor yet with broken ground

Dost thou these kingdoms and their king with Chaos rude confound?

Nor yet uprenting  from the soil the bowers of wicked land

Dost thou Mycenas overturn? With Tantalus to stand,

And aunepters of ours, if there in hell be anyone,

Now ought we both, now from the frames on either side anon

Of ground, all here and there rent up, out of thy bosom deep

Thy dens and dungeons set abroad, and us enclosed keep,

In bottom low of Acheront, above our heads aloft

Let wander all the guilty ghosts, with burning fret full oft

Let fiery Phlegethon that drives his sands both to and froe,

To our confusion overrun and violently flow.

Oh slothful soil unshaken pace, unmoved yet art thou?

The gods are fled.

ATREUS      But take to thee with joy thy children now,

And rather them embrace, at length thy children all, of thee

So long wisht for, for no delay there standth now in me,

Enjoy and kiss, embracing arms divide thou unto three.

THYESTES

Is this thy league? May this thy love and faith of brother be?

And dost thou so repose thy hate? The father doth not crave

His sons alive, which might have been without the guilt, to have,

And eke without thy hate, but this doth brother brother pray:

That them he may entomb, restore, whom see thou shalt straight way

Be burnt, the father nought requires, of the that have he shall,

But soon forgo.

ATREUS     Whatever part yet of thy children all

Remains, here shalt thou have, and what remainth not, thou hast.

THYESTES

Lie they in fields, a food out flung for fleeing fouls to waste?

Or are they kept a pray, for wild and brutish beasts to eat?

ATREUS

Thou hast devoured thy sons, and filled thy self with wicked meat.

THYESTES

Oh this is it that shamed the gods, and day from hence did drive

Turned back to east, alas I wretch what wailings may I give?

Or what complaints? what woeful words may be enough for me?

Their heads cut off, and hands off torn, I from their bodies see,

And wrenched feet from broken thighs I here behold again.

T’is this that greedy father could not suffer to sustain.

In belly roll my towels round, and closed crime so great

Without a passage strives within, and seeks away to get.

Thy sword, oh brother, lend to me, much of my blood alas

It hath, let us therewith make way for all my sons to pass.

Is yet the sword fro’ me withheld? Thy self thy bosoms tear.

And let thy breasts resound with strokes, yet wretch thy hand forbear,

And spare the dead. Who ever saw such mischief put in proof?

What rude Heniochus, that dwells by ragged coast aloof,

Of Caucasus unapt for men? Or fear to Athens, who

Procustes wild? The father I oppress my children do

And am opprest, is any means of guilt or mischief yet?

ATREUS

A mean in mischief ought to be, when guilt thou dost commit,

Not when thou quitst, for yet even this, too little seems to me.

The blood yet warm even from the wound I should in sight of thee

Even in thy saws have shed, that thou the blood of them mightst drink

That lived yet, but while too much to haste my hate I think,

My wrath beguiled is. Myself with sword the wounds them gave,

I strake them down, the sacred fires with slaughter vowed I have

Well pleased, the carcass cutting then and liveless limbs on ground

I have in little parcels chopt, and some of them I drowned

In boiling cauldrons, some to sires that burnt full slow I put,

And made to drop, their sinews all and limbs a two I cut

Even yet alive, and on the spite that thrust was through the same

I heard the liver wail and cry, and with my hand the flame

I oft kept in, but every whit the father might of this

Have bett’r done, but now my wrath to lightly end is.

He rent his sons with wicked gum, himself yet wotting  nought,

Nor they thereof.

THYESTES     Oh ye, enclosed with bending banks abought

All seas me hear, and to this guilt ye gods now harken well

Whatever place ye fled are to: hear all ye sprights of hell,

And here ye lands, and night so bathe, that them dost overly

With cloud so black, to my complaints do thou thyself apply.

To thee now left I am, thou dost alone me miser see,

And thou art left without thy starts, I will not make for me

Petitions yet. Nor ought for me require, may ought yet be

That me should veil? For you shall all my wishes now foresee.

Thou guider great of skies above, and prince of highest might,

Of heavenly place, now all with clouds full horrible to sight,

Enwrap the world, and let the winds on every side break out,

And send the dreadful thunder clap through all the world about.

Not with what hand thou guiltless house and undeserved wall

With lesser bolt art wont to beat, but with the which did fall

The three upheaped mountains once, and which to hills in height

Stood equal up the giants huge, throw out such weapons straight,

And flying thy fires, and therewithal revenge the drowned day.

Let flee thy flames, the light thus lost and hid from heaven away

With flashes fill, the cause, least long thou shouldst doubt whom to hit,

Of each of us is ill, if not at least let mine be it,

Me strike! With triple edged tool, thy brand of flaming fire,

Beat through this breast, if father I my children do desire

To lay in tomb, or corpses cast to fire as doth behove

I must be burnt, if nothing now the gods to wrath may move,

Nor power from skies with thunderbolt none strikes the wicked men.

Let yet eternal night remain, and hide with darkness then

The world about. I, Titan, nought complain, as now it stands,

If still thou hide thee thus away.

ATREUS              Now praise I well my hands,

Now got I have the palm: I had been overcome of thee,

Except thou sorrowdst so, but now even children born to me

I count, and now of bridebed  chaste the faith I do repeat.

THYESTES

In what offended have my sons?

ATREUS             In that, that thine they were.

THYESTES  

Setst thou the sons for fathers’ food?

ATREUS               I do, and, which is best,

The certain sons.

THYESTES    The gods that guide all infants, I protest.

ATREUS

What wedlock gods?

THYESTES      Who would the guilt with guilt so quit again?

ATREUS

I know thy grief prevented now with wrong, thou dost complain,

Nor this thee irks, that fed thou art with food of cursed kind,

But that thou hadst not it prepared, for so it was thy mind,

Such meats as these to set before thy brother worrying naught,

And by the mother’s help, to have likewise my children caught,

And them with such like death to slay, this one thing letted  thee,

Thou thought’st them thine.

THYESTES          The gods shall all of this revengers be

And unto them for vengeance due my vows thee render shall.

ATREUS

But vext to be I thee the while give to thy children all.

[5.4]

Added to the Tragedy by the Translator.

Thyestes alone.

O King of Ditis dungeon dark, and grisly ghosts of hell,

That in the deep and dreadful dens of blackest Tartare dwell,

Where lean and pale diseases lie, where fear and famine are,

Where discord stands with bleeding brows, where every kind of care,

Where furies fight in beds of steel, and ears of crawling snakes,

Where Gorgon grime, where Harpies are, and loathsome limbo lakes,

Where most prodigious ugly things the hollow hell doth hide,

If yet a monster more misshapt than all that there do bide,

That makes his brood his cursed food, ye all abhor to see,

Nor yet the deep Averne itself may bide to cover me,

Nor grisly gates of Pluto’s place yet dare themselves to spread,

Nor gaping ground to swallow him whom gods and day have fled.

Yet break ye out from cursed seats and here remain with me,

Ye need not now to be afraid, the air and heaven to see.

Nor triple headed Cerberus, thou needst not be affright,

The day unknown to thee to see, or else the loathsome light.

They both be fled, and now doth dwell none other countenance here,

Then doth beneath the foulest face of hateful hell appear.

Come see a meetest match for thee, a more than monstrous womb,

That is of his unhappy brood become a cursed tomb.

Flock here ye foulest fiends of hell, and thou, oh grandsire great,

Come see the glutted guts of mine, with such a kind of meat,

As thou didst once for gods prepare! Let torments all of hell

Now fall upon this hateful head, that hath deserved them well.

Ye all be plagued wrongfully, your guilts be small, in sight

Of mine, and meet it were your pangs on me alone should light.

Now thou, oh grandsire, guiltless art, and meet’r were for me

With fleeing flood to be beguiled and fruit of fickle tree.

Thou slewst thy son, but I my sons, alas, have made my meat.

I could thy famine better bear, my paunch is now repleat

With food and with my children three my belly is extent.

O filthy foules and gnawing gripes, that Tityus bosom rent

Behold a fitter pray for you, to fill yourselves upon

Than are the growing guts of him: four wombs enwrapt in one.

This paunch at ones shall fill you all, if ye abhor the food

Nor may yourselves abide to bathe in such a cursed blood.

Yet lend to me your clinching claws, your pray a while forbear,

And with your talons suffer me this monstrous mow to tear.

Or whirling wheels, with swing of which Ixion still is rolled,

Your hooks upon this glutted gorge would catch a surer hold.

Thou filthy flood of limbo lake and stygian pool so dire,

From choaked channel belch abroad. Thou fearful fret of fire,

Spue out thy flames oh Phlegethon! And over shed the ground

With vomit of thy fiery stream! Let me and earth be drowned.

Break up thou soil from bottom deep, and give thou room to hell,

That night where day, that ghosts were gods, were wont to reign, may dwell.

Why gapste thou not? Why do you not oh gates of hell unfold?

Why do ye thus th’infernal fiends so long from hence withhold?

Are you likewise afraid to see, and know so wretch’d wight,

From whom the gods have wried  their looks and turned are to flight?

O hateful head whom heaven and hell have shoonde  and left alone,

The sun, the starts, the light, the day, the Gods, the ghosts be gone.

Yet turn again ye skies a while, ere quite ye go fro’ me,

Take vengeance first on him whose fault enforceth you to flee.

If needs ye must your flight prepare, and may no longer bide,

But roll ye must with you forth with the gods and sun a side,

Yet slowly flee, that I at length may you yet overtake,

While wandering ways I after you and speedy journey make.

By seas, by lands, by woods, by rocks, in dark I wander shall,

And on your wrath for right reward to due deserts will call.

ye scape not fro’ me so ye gods, still after you I go,

And vengeance ask on wicked wight your thunder bolt to throw.