Andromache

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.

  1. wouldst thou have us offer to the god? Wherefore art thou come? And he answered: I wish to make atonement to Phoebus for my past transgression; for once I claimed from him satisfaction for my father’s blood. Thereupon the rumour, spread by Orestes, proved to have great weight,
  2. suggesting that my master was lying and had come on a shameful errand. But he crosses the threshold of the temple to pray to Phoebus before his oracle,[*](Also explained by the Schol. as = πρὸ τῶν θυσῶν, i.e. before sacrificing.) and was busy with his burnt-offering; when a body of men armed with swords set themselves[*](Hermann’s ἀνθυφειστήκει.) in ambush against him
  3. in the cover of the bay- trees, and Clytemnestra’s son, that had contrived the whole
    plot was one of them. There stood the young man praying to the god in sight of all, when lo! with their sharp swords they stabbed Achilles’ unprotected son from behind.
  4. But he stepped back, for it was not a mortal wound he had received, and drew his sword, and snatching armour from the pegs where it hung on a pillar, took his stand upon the altar-steps, the picture of a warrior grim; then cried he to the sons of Delphi, and asked them:
  5. Why seek to slay me when I am come on a holy mission? What cause is there why I should die? But of all that throng of bystanders, no man answered him a word, but they set to hurling stones. Then he, though bruised and battered by the showers of missiles from all sides,
  6. covered[*](Paley considers that this line is probably an interpolation; Nauck regards the next as corrupt.) himself behind his mail and tried to ward off the attack, holding his shield first here, then there, at arm’s length, but all of no avail; for a storm of darts, arrows and javelins, hurtling spits with double points, and butchers’ knives for slaying steers, came flying at his feet;
  7. and terrible was the war-dance thou hadst then seen thy grandson dance to avoid their marksmanship. At last, when they were hemming him in on all sides, allowing him no breathing space, he left the shelter of the altar, the hearth where victims are placed, and with one bound was on them as on the Trojans of yore;
  8. and they turned and fled like doves when they see the hawk. Many fell in the confusion; some wounded, and others trodden down by one another along the narrow passages; and in that hushed holy house uprose unholy din
  9. and echoed back from the rocks. Calm and still my master stood there in his gleaming harness like a flash of light, till from the inmost shrine there came a voice of thrilling horror, stirring the crowd to make a stand. Then fell Achilles’ son,
  10. smitten through the flank by some Delphian’s biting blade, some fellow that slew him with a host to help; and as he fell, there
    was not one that did not stab him, or cast a rock and batter his corpse. So his whole body,
  11. once so fair, was marred with savage wounds. At last they cast the lifeless clay, lying near the altar, forth from the fragrant fane. And we gathered up his remains forthwith and are bringing them to thee,
  12. old prince, to mourn and weep and honour with a deep-dug tomb.
  13. This is how that prince who vouchsafeth oracles to others, that judge of what is right for all the world, hath revenged himself on Achilles’ son, remembering his ancient quarrel as a wicked man would.
  14. How then can he be wise? Exit Messenger. The body of Neoptolemus is carried in on a bier.
Chorus
  1. Lo! E’en now our prince is being carried on a bier from Delphi’s land unto his home. Woe for him and his sad fate, and woe for thee, old sire! for this is not the welcome thou wouldst give Achilles’ son,
  2. the lion’s whelp; thyself too by this sad mischance[*](κύρσας is probably corrupt. Nauck omits it, and marks a lacuna.) dost share his evil lot.
Peleus
  1. Ah! woe is me! here is a sad sight for me to see and take unto my halls!
  2. Ah me! ah me! I am undone, thou city of Thessaly! My line now ends; I have no children left me in my home. Oh! the sorrows I seem born to endure! What
  3. friend can I look to for relief? Ah, dear lips, and cheeks, and hands! Would thy destiny had slain thee ’neath Ilium’s walls beside the banks of Simois!
Chorus
  1. Had he so died, my aged lord, he had won him honour thereby,