Ion by Euripides
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Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Ion

By Euripides

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Ion

By Euripides

Written 414-412 B.C.E

Translated by Robert Potter

Dramatis Personae

MERCURY

ION

CREUSA, daughter of Erechtheus

XUTHUS, husband of CREUSA

TUTOR

ATTENDANT

PRIESTESS OF APOLLO

MINERVA

CHORUS OF HANDMAIDENS OF CREUSA

Scene

Before the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. The sun is about to rise. MERCURY
enters.

MERCURY

Atlas, that on his brazen shoulders rolls Yon heaven, the ancient mansion of the gods, Was by a goddess sire to Maia; she To supreme Jove bore me, and call’d me Hermes; Attendant on the king, his high behests I execute. To Delphi am I come,

This land where Phoebus from his central throne Utters to mortals his high strain, declaring The present and the future; this is the cause; Greece hath a city of distinguish’d glory, Which from the goddess of the golden lance Received its name; Erechtheus was its king; His daughter, call’d Creusa, to the embrace Of nuptial love Apollo strain’d perforce, Where northward points the rock beneath the heights Crown’d with the Athenian citadel of Pallas, Call’d Macrai by the lords of Attica.

Her growing burden, to her sire unknown (Such was the pleasure of the god,) she bore, Till in her secret chamber to a son The rolling months gave birth: to the same cave, Where by the enamour’d god she was compress’d, Creusa bore the infant: there for death Exposed him in a well-compacted ark Of circular form, observant of the customs Drawn from her great progenitors, and chief From Erichthonius, who from the Attic earth Deriv’d his origin: to him as guards Minerva gave two dragons, and in charge Consign’d him to the daughters of Aglauros: This rite to the Erechthidae hence remains, Mid serpents wreathed in ductile gold to nurse Their children. What of ornament she had She hung around her son, and left him thus To perish. But to me his earnest prayer Phoebus applied, “To the high-lineaged sons Of glorious Athens go, my brother; well Thou know’st the city of Pallas; from the cave Deep in the hollow rock a new-born babe, Laid as he is, and all his vestments with him; Bring to thy brother to my shrine, and place At the entrance of my temple; of the rest (For, know, the child is mine) I will take care.”

To gratify my brother thence I bore The osier-woven ark, and placed the boy Here at the temple’s base, the wreathed lid Uncovering, that the infant might be seen.

It chanced, as the orient sun the steep of heav’n Ascended, to the god’s oracular seat The priestess entering, on the infant cast Her eye, and marvelled, deeming that some nymph Of Delphi at the fane had dared to lay The secret burden of her womb: this thought Prompts her to move it from the shrine: but soon To pity she resign’d the harsh intent; The impulse of the god secretly acting In favour of the child, that in his temple It might abide; her gentle hand then took it, And gave it nurture; yet conceived she not That Phoebus was the sire, nor who the mother Knew aught, nor of his parents could the child Give information. All his youthful years Sportive he wandered round the shrine, and there Was fed: but when his firmer age advanced To manhood, o’er the treasures of the god The Delphians placed him, to his faithful care Consigning all; and in this royal dome His hallow’d life he to this hour hath pass’d.

Meantime Creusa, mother of the child, To Xuthus was espoused, the occasion this:-

On Athens from Euboean Chalcis roll’d The waves of war; be join’d their martial toil, And with his spear repell’d the foe; for this To the proud honour of Creusa’s bed Advanc’d; no native, in Achaea sprung From Aeolus, the son of Jove. Long time Unbless’d with children, to the oracular shrine Of Phoebus are they come, through fond desire Of progeny: to this the god hath brought The fortune of his son, nor, as was deem’d, Forgets him; but to Xuthus, when he stands This sacred seat consulting, will he give That son, declared his offspring; that the child, When to Creusa’s house brought back, by her May be agnized; the bridal rites of Phoebus Kept secret, that the youth may claim the state Due to his birth, through all the states of Greece Named Ion, founder of the colonies On the Asiatic coast. The laurell’d cave Now will I visit, there to learn what fortune Is to the boy appointed, for I see This son of Phoebus issuing forth to adorn The gates before the shrine with laurel boughs.

First of the gods I hail him by the name Of Ion, which his fortune soon will give him.

MERCURY vanishes. ION and the attendants of the temple enter.

ION chanting

Now flames this radiant chariot of the sun High o’er the earth, at whose ethereal fire The stars into the sacred night retreat: O’er the Parnassian cliffs the ascending wheels To mortals roll the beams of day; the wreaths Of incense-breathing myrrh mount to the roof Of Phoebus’ fane; the Delphic priestess now Assumes her seat, and from the hallow’d tripod Pronounces to the Greeks the oracular strains Which the god dictates. Haste, ye Delphic train, Haste to Castalia’s silver-streaming fount; Bathed in its chaste dews to the temple go; There from your guarded mouths no sound be heard But of good omen, that to those who crave Admission to the oracle, your voice May with auspicious words expound the answers.

My task, which from my early infancy Hath been my charge, shall be with laurel boughs And sacred wreaths to cleanse the vestibule Of Phoebus, on the pavement moistening dews To rain, and with my bow to chase the birds Which would defile the hallow’d ornaments.

A mother’s fondness, and a father’s care I never knew: the temple of the god Claims then my service, for it nurtured me.

The attendants leave. ION busies himself before the temple as he continues to sing.

strophe

Haste, thou verdant new-sprung bough, Haste, thy early office know;

Branch of beauteous laurel come, Sweep Apollo’s sacred dome,

Cropp’d this temple’s base beneath, Where the immortal gardens breathe, And eternal dews that round

Water the delicious ground,

Bathe the myrtle’s tresses fair.

Lightly thus, with constant care, The pavement of the god I sweep, When over the Parnassian steep

Flames the bright sun’s mounting ray; This my task each rising day.

Son of Latona, Paean, Paean, hail!

Never, O never may thy honours fail!

antistrophe

Grateful is my task, who wait

Serving, Phoebus, at thy gate;

Honouring thus thy hallow’d shrine, Honour for the task is mine.

Labouring with unwilling hands,

Me no mortal man commands:

But, immortal gods, to you

All my pleasing toil is due.

Phoebus is to me a sire;

Grateful thoughts my soul inspire; Nurtured by thy bounty here,

Thee, Apollo, I revere;

As a father’s I repeat.

Son of Latona, Paean, Paean, hail!

Never, O never may thy honours fail!

Now from this labour with the laurel bough I cease; and sprinkling from the golden vase The chaste drops which Castalia’s fountain rolls, Bedew the pavement. Never may I quit This office to the god; or, if I quit it, Be it, good Fortune, at thy favouring call!

But see, the early birds have left their nests, And this way from Parnassus wing their flight.

Come not, I charge you, near the battlements, Nor near the golden dome. Herald of Jove, Strong though thy beak beyond the feather’d kind, My bow shall reach thee. Towards the altar, see, A swan comes sailing: elsewhere wilt thou move Thy scarlet-tinctured foot? or from my bow The lyre of Phoebus to thy notes attuned Will not protect thee; farther stretch thy wings; Go, wanton, skim along the Delian lake, Or wilt thou steep thy melody in blood.

Look, what strange bird comes onwards; wouldst thou fix Beneath the battlements thy straw-built nest?

My singing bow shall drive thee hence; begone, Or to the banks of Alpheus, gulfy stream, Or to the Isthmian grove; there hatch thy young; Mar not these pendent ornaments, nor soil The temple of the god: I would not kill you: ‘Twere pity, for to mortal man you bear The message of the gods; yet my due task Must be perform’d, and never will I cease My service to the god who nurtured me.

The CHORUS enters. The following lines between ION and the CHORUS are chanted responsively as they gaze admiringly at the decorations on the temple.

CHORUS

The stately column, and the gorgeous dome Raised to the gods, are not the boast alone Of our magnificent Athens; nor the statues That grace her streets; this temple of the god, Son of Latona, beauteous to behold, Beams the resplendent light of both her children.

ION

Turn thine eyes this way; look, the son of Jove Lops with his golden scimitar the heads Of the Lernean Hydra: view it well.

CHORUS

I see him.

ION

And this other standing nigh,

Who snatches from the fire the blazing brand.

CHORUS

What is his name? the subject, on the web Design’d, these hands have wrought in ductile gold.

ION

The shield-supporting Iolaus, who bears The toils in common with the son of Jove.

View now this hero; on his winged steed The triple-bodied monster’s dreadful force He conquers through the flames his jaws emit.

CHORUS

I view it all attentively.

ION

Observe

The battle of the giants, on the walls Sculptured in stone.

CHORUS

Let us note this, my friends.

ION

See where against Enceladus she shakes Her gorgon shield.

CHORUS

I see my goddess, Pallas.

ION

Mark the tempestuous thunder’s flaming bolt Launch’d by the hand of Jove.

CHORUS

The furious Mimas

Here blazes in the volley’d fires: and there Another earth-born monster falls beneath The wand of Bacchus wreathed with ivy round, No martial spear. But, as ‘tis thine to tend This temple, let me ask thee, is it lawful, Leaving our sandals, its interior parts To visit?

ION

Strangers, this is not permitted.

CHORUS

Yet may we make inquiries of thee?

ION

Speak;

What wouldst thou know?

CHORUS

Whether this temple’s site

Be the earth’s centre?

ION

Ay, with garlands hung,

And gorgons all around.

CHORUS

So fame reports.

ION

If at the gate the honey’d cake be offer’d, Would you consult the oracle, advance To the altar: till the hallow’d lamb has bled In sacrifice, approach not the recess.

CHORUS

I am instructed: what the god appoints As laws, we wish not to transgress: without Enough of ornament delights our eyes.

ION

Take a full view of all; that is allow’d.

CHORUS

To view the inmost shrine was our lord’s order.

ION

Who are you call’d? Attendants on what house?

CHORUS

Our lords inhabit the magnific domes Of Pallas.-But she comes, of whom thou askest.

CREUSA and attendants enter.

ION

Lady, whoe’er thou art, that liberal air Speaks an exalted mind: there is a grace, A dignity in those of noble birth, That marks their high rank. Yet I marvel much That from thy closed lids the trickling tear Water’d thy beauteous cheeks, soon as thine eye Beheld this chaste oracular seat of Phoebus.

What brings this sorrow, lady? All besides, Viewing the temple of the god, are struck With joy; thy melting eye o’erflows with tears.

CREUSA

Not without reason, stranger, art thou seized With wonder at my tears: this sacred dome Awakes the sad remembrance of things past.

I had my mind at home, though present here.

How wretched is our sex! And, O ye gods, What deeds are yours! Where may we hope for right, If by the injustice of your power undone?

ION

Why, lady, this inexplicable grief?

CREUSA

It matters not; my mind resumes its firmless: I say no more; cease thy concern for me.

ION

But say, who art thou? whence? what country boasts Thy birth? and by what name may we address thee?

CREUSA

Creusa is my name, drawn from Erechtheus My high-born lineage; Athens gave me birth.

Illustrious is thy state; thy ancestry So noble that I look with reverence on thee.

CREUSA

Happy indeed is this, in nothing farther.

ION

But tell me, is it true what fame has blazon’d?

CREUSA

What wouldst thou ask? Stranger, I wish to know.

ION

Sprung the first author of thy line from the earth?

CREUSA

Ay, Erichthonius; but my race avails not.

ION

And did Minerva raise him from the earth?

CREUSA

Held in her virgin hands: she bore him not.

ION

And gave him as the picture represents?

CREUSA

Daughters of Cecrops these, charged not to see him.

ION

The virgins ope’d the interdicted chest?

CREUSA

And died, distaining with their blood the rock.

ION

But tell me, is this truth, or a vain rumour?

CREUSA

What wouldst thou ask? I am not scant of time.

ION

Thy sisters did Erechtheus sacrifice?

CREUSA

He slew the virgins, victims for their country.

ION

And thou of all thy sisters saved alone?

CREUSA

I was an infant in my mother’s arms.

ION

And did the yawning earth swallow thy father?

CREUSA

By Neptune’s trident smote; and so he perish’d.

ION

And Macrai call you not the fatal place?

CREUSA

Why dost thou ask? What thoughts hast thou recall’d?, ION

Does Phoebus, do his lightnings honour it?

CREUSA

Honour! Why this? Would I had never seen it!

ION

Why? Dost thou hate the place dear to the god?

CREUSA

No: but for some base deed done in the cave.

ION

But what Athenian, lady, wedded thee?

CREUSA

Of Athens none, but one of foreign birth.

ION

What is his name? Noble he needs must be.

CREUSA

Xuthus, by Aeolus derived from Jove.

ION

How weds a stranger an Athenian born?

CREUSA

Euboea is a state neighbouring on Athens.

ION

A narrow sea flows, I have heard, between.

CREUSA

Joining the Athenian arms, that state he wasted.

ION

Confederate in the war, thence wedded thee?

CREUSA

The dowral meed of war, earn’d by his spear.

ION

Comest thou with him to Delphi, or alone?

CREUSA

With him, gone now to the Trophonian shrine.

ION

To view it, or consult the oracle?

CREUSA

Both that and this, anxious for one response.

ION

For the earth’s fruits consult you, or for children?

CREUSA

Though wedded long, yet childless is our bed.

ION

Hast thou ne’er borne a child, that thou hast none?

CREUSA

My state devoid of children Phoebus knows.

ION

Bless’d in all else, luckless in this alone.

CREUSA

But who art thou? Bless’d I pronounce thy mother.

ION

Call’d as I am the servant of the god.

CREUSA

Presented by some state, or sold to this?

ION

I know not aught save this, I am the god’s.

CREUSA

And in my turn, stranger, I pity thee.

ION

As knowing not my mother, or my lineage.

CREUSA

Hast thou thy dwelling here, or in some house?

ION

The temple is my house, ev’n when I sleep.

CREUSA

A child brought hither, or in riper years?

ION

An infant, as they say, who seem to know.

CREUSA

What Delphian dame sustain’d thee at her breast?

ION

I never knew a breast. She nourish’d me.

CREUSA

Who, hapless youth? Diseased, I find disease.

ION

The priestess: as a mother I esteem her.

CREUSA

Who to these manly years gave thee support?

ION

The altars, and the still-succeeding strangers.

CREUSA

Wretched, whoe’er she be, is she that bore thee.

ION

I to some woman am perchance a shame.

CREUSA

Are riches thine? Thou art well habited.

ION

Graced with these vestments by the god I serve.

CREUSA

Hast thou made no attempt to trace thy birth?

ION

I have no token, lady, for a proof.

CREUSA

Ah, like thy mother doth another suffer.

ION

Who? tell me: shouldst thou help me, what a joy CREUSA

One for whose sake I come before my husband.

ION

Say for what end, that I may serve thee, lady.

CREUSA

To ask a secret answer of the god.

ION

Speak it: my service shall procure the rest.

CREUSA

Hear then the tale: but Modesty restrains me.

ION

Ah, let her not; her power avails not here.

CREUSA

My friend then says that to the embrace of Phoebus-ION

A woman and a god! Say not so, stranger.

CREUSA

She bore a son: her father knew it not.

ION

Not so: a mortal’s baseness he disdains.

CREUSA

This she affirms; and this, poor wretch, she suffer’d.

ION

What follow’d, if she knew the god’s embrace?

CREUSA

The child, which hence had birth, she straight exposed.

ION

This exposed child, where is he? doth he live?

CREUSA

This no one knows; this wish I to inquire.

ION

If not alive, how probably destroyed?

CREUSA

Torn, she conjectures, by some beast of prey.

ION

What ground hath she on which to build that thought?

CREUSA

Returning to the place she found him not.

ION

Observed she drops of blood distain the path?

CREUSA

None, though with anxious heed she search’d around.

ION

What time hath pass’d since thus the child was lost?

CREUSA

Were he alive, his youth were such as thine.

ION

The god hath done him wrong: the unhappy mother-CREUSA

Hath not to any child been mother since.

ION

What if in secret Phoebus nurtures him!

CREUSA

Unjust to enjoy alone a common right.

ION

Ah me! this cruel fate accords with mine.

CREUSA

For thee too thy unhappy mother mourns.

ION

Ah, melt me not to griefs I would forget!

CREUSA

I will be silent: but impart thy aid.

ION

Seest thou what most the inquiry will suppress?

CREUSA

And to my wretched friend what is not ill?

ION

How shall the god what he would hide reveal?

CREUSA

As placed on the oracular seat of Greece.

ION

The deed must cause him shame: convict him not.

CREUSA

To the poor sufferer ‘tis the cause of grief.

ION

It cannot be; for who shall dare to give The oracle? With justice would the god, In his own dome affronted, pour on him Severest vengeance, who should answer thee.

Desist then, lady: it becomes us ill, In opposition to the god, to make Inquiries at his shrine; by sacrifice Before their altars, or the flight of birds, Should we attempt to force the unwilling gods To utter what they wish not, ‘twere the excess Of rudeness; what with violence we urge ‘Gainst their consent would to no good avail us: What their spontaneous grace confers on us, That, lady, as a blessing we esteem.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

How numberless the ills to mortal man, And various in their form! One single blessing By any one through life is scarcely found.

CREUSA

Nor here, nor there, O Phoebus, art thou just To her; though absent, yet her words are present.

Nor didst thou save thy son, whom it became thee To save; nor, though a prophet, wilt thou speak To the sad mother who inquires of thee; That, if he is no more, to him a tomb May rise; but, if he lives, that he may bless His mother’s eyes. But even thus behooves us To omit these things, if by the god denied To know what most I wish.-But, for I see The noble Xuthus this way bend, return’d From the Trophonian cave; before my husband Resume not, generous stranger, this discourse, Lest it might cause me shame that thus I act In secret, and perchance lead on to questions I would not have explain’d. Our hapless sex Oft feel our husbands’ rigour: with the bad The virtuous they confound, and treat us harshly.

XUTHUS and his retinue enter.

XUTHUS

With reverence to the god my first address I pay: Hail, Phoebus! Lady, next to thee: Absent so long, have I not caused thee fear?

CREUSA

Not much: as anxious thoughts ‘gan rise, thou’rt come.

But, tell me, from Trophonius what reply Bearest thou; what means whence offspring may arise?

XUTHUS

Unmeet he held it to anticipate

The answer of the god: one thing he told me.

That childless I should not return, nor thou, Home from the oracle.

CREUSA

Goddess revered,

Mother of Phoebus, be our coming hither In lucky hour; and our connubial bed Be by thy son made happier than before!

XUTHUS

It shall be so. But who is president here?

ION

Without, that charge is mine; within, devolved On others, stranger, seated near the tripod; The chiefs of Delphi these, chosen by lot.

XUTHUS

‘Tis well: all that I want is then complete.

Let me now enter: for the oracle Is given, I hear, in common to all strangers Before the shrine; on such a day, that falls Propitious thus, the answer of the god Would I receive: meanwhile, these laurel boughs Bear round the altars; lady, breathe thy prayers To every god, that from Apollo’s shrine I may bring back the promise of a son.

XUTHUS, after giving the laurel boughs to CREUSA, enters the temple.

CREUSA

It shall, it shall be so. Should Phoebus now At least be willing to redress the fault Of former times, he would not through the whole Be friendly to us: yet will I accept What he vouchsafes us, for he is a god.

CREUSA departs to the shrines in the outer precinct of the temple.

ION

Why does this stranger always thus revile With obscure speech the god? Is it through love Of her, for whom she asks? or to conceal Some secret of importance? But to me What is the daughter of Erechtheus? Naught Concerns it me. Then let me to my task, And sprinkle from the golden vase the dew.

Yet must I blame the god, if thus perforce He mounts the bed of virgins, and by stealth Becomes a father, leaving then his children To die, regardless of them. Do not thou Act thus; but, as thy power is great, respect The virtues; for whoe’er, of mortal men, Dares impious deeds, him the gods punish: how Is it then just that you, who gave the laws To mortals, should yourselves transgress those laws?, If (though it is not thus, yet will I urge The subject,)-if to mortals you shall pay The penalty of forced embraces, thou, Neptune, and Jove, that reigns supreme in heaven, Will leave your temples treasureless by paying The mulcts of your injustice: for unjust You are, your pleasures to grave temperance Preferring: and to men these deeds no more Can it be just to charge as crimes, these deeds If from the gods they imitate: on those Who gave the ill examples falls the charge.

ION goes out.

CHORUS singing

strophe

Thee prompt to yield thy lenient aid, And sooth a mother’s pain:

And thee, my Pallas, martial maid, I call: O, hear the strain!

Thou, whom the Titan from the head of Jove, Prometheus, drew, bright Victory, come, Descending from thy golden throne above; Haste, goddess, to the Pythian dome, Where Phoebus, from his central shrine, Gives the oracle divine,

By the raving maid repeated,

On the hallow’d tripod seated:

O haste thee, goddess, and with thee The daughter of Latona bring;

A virgin thou, a virgin she,

Sisters to the Delphian king;

Him, virgins, let your vows implore, That now his pure oracular power Will to Erechtheus’ ancient line declare The blessing of a long-expected heir!

antistrophe

To mortal man this promised grace Sublimest pleasure brings,

When round the father’s hearth a race In blooming lustre springs.

The wealth, the honours, from their high-drawn line From sire to son transmitted down, Shall with fresh glory through their offspring shine, And brighten with increased renown: A guard, when ills begin to lower, Dear in fortune’s happier hour;

For their country’s safety waking, Firm in fight the strong spear shaking; More than proud wealth’s exhaustless store, More than a monarch’s bride to reign, The dear delight, to virtue’s lore Careful the infant mind to train.

Doth any praise the childless state?

The joyless, loveless life I hate; No; my desires to moderate wealth I bound, But let me see my children smile around.

epode

Ye rustic seats, Pan’s dear delight; Ye caves of Macrai’s rocky height, Where oft the social virgins meet, And weave the dance with nimble feet; Descendants from Aglauros they

In the third line, with festive play, Minerva’s hallow’d fane before

The verdant plain light-tripping o’er, When thy pipe’s quick-varying sound Rings, O Pan, these caves around; Where, by Apollo’s love betray’d, Her child some hapless mother laid, Exposed to each night-prowling beast, Or to the ravenous birds a feast; For never have I heard it told,

Nor wrought it in historic gold, That happiness attends the race, When gods with mortals mix the embrace.

ION re-enters.

ION

Ye female train, that place yourselves around This incense-breathing temple’s base, your lord Awaiting, hath he left the sacred tripod And oracle, or stays he in the shrine, Making inquiries of his childless state?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Yet in the temple, stranger, he remains.

ION

But he comes forth; the sounding doors announce His near approach; behold, our lord is here.

XUTHUS enters from the temple. He rushes to greet ION.

XUTHUS

Health to my son! This first address is proper.

ION

I have my health: be in thy senses thou, And both are well.

XUTHUS

O let me kiss thy hand,

And throw mine arms around thee.

ION

Art thou, stranger,

Well in thy wits? or hath the god’s displeasure Bereft thee of thy reason?

XUTHUS

Reason bids,

That which is dearest being found, to wish A fond embrace.

ION

Off, touch me not; thy hands

Will mar the garlands of the god.

XUTHUS

My touch

Asserts no pledge: my own, and that most dear, I find.

ION

Wilt thou not keep thee distant, ere Thou hast my arrow in thy heart?

XUTHUS

Why fly me,

When thou shouldst own what is most fond of thee?

ION

I am not fond of curing wayward strangers, And madmen.

XUTHUS

Kill me, raise my funeral pyre;

But, if thou kill me, thou wilt kill thy father.

ION

My father thou! how so? it makes me laugh To hear thee.

XUTHUS

This my words may soon explain.

ION

What wilt thou say to me?

XUTHUS

I am thy father,

And thou my son.

ION

Who declares this?

XUTHUS

The god,

That nurtured thee, though mine.

ION

Thou to thyself

Art witness.

XUTHUS

By the oracle inform’d.

ION

Misled by some dark answer.

XUTHUS

Well I heard it.

ION

What were the words of Phoebus?

XUTHUS

That who first

Should meet me-

ION

How?-what meeting?

XUTHUS

As I pass’d.

Forth from the temple.

ION

What the event to him?

XUTHUS

He is my son.

ION

Born so, or by some other

Presented?

XUTHUS

Though a present, born my son.

ION

And didst thou first meet me?

XUTHUS

None else, my son.

ION

This fortune whence?

XUTHUS

At that we marvel both.

ION

Who is my mother?

XUTHUS

That I cannot say.

ION

Did not the god inform thee?

XUTHUS

Through my joy,

For this I ask’d not.

ION

Haply from the earth

I sprung, my mother.

XUTHUS

No, the earth no sons

Produces.

ION

How then am I thine?

XUTHUS

I know not.

To Phoebus I appeal.

ION

Be this discourse

Chang’d to some other.

XUTHUS

This delights me most.

ION

Hast thou e’er mounted an unlawful bed?

XUTHUS

In foolishness of youth.

ION

Was that before

Thy marriage with the daughter of Erechtheus?

XUTHUS

Since never.

ION

Owe I then my birth to that?

XUTHUS

The time agrees.

ION

How came I hither then?

XUTHUS

I can form no conjecture.

ION

Was I brought

From some far distant part?

XUTHUS

That fills my mind

With doubtful musing.

ION

Didst thou e’er before

Visit the Pythian rock?

XUTHUS

Once, at the feast

Of Bacchus.

ION

By some public host received?

XUTHUS

Who with the Delphian damsels-

ION

To the orgies

Led thee, or how?

XUTHUS

And with the Maenades

Of Bacchus-

ION

In the temperate hour, or warm

With wine?

XUTHUS

Amid the revels of the god.

ION

From thence I date my birth.

XUTHUS

And fate, my son,

Hath found thee.

ION

How then came I to the temple?

XUTHUS

Perchance exposed.

ION

The state of servitude

Have I escaped.

XUTHUS

Thy father now, my son,

Receive.

ION

Indecent were it in the god

Not to confide.

XUTHUS

Thy thoughts are just.

ION

What else

Would we?

XUTHUS

Thou seest what thou oughtst to see.

ION

Am I the son then of the son of Jove?

XUTHUS

Such is thy fortune.

ION

Those that gave me birth

Do I embrace?

XUTHUS

Obedient to the god.

ION

My father, hail!

XUTHUS

That dear name I accept

With joy.

ION

This present day-

XUTHUS

Hath made me happy.

ION

O my dear mother, when shall I behold Thy face? Whoe’er thou art, more wish I now To see thee than before; but thou perchance Art dead, and nothing our desires avail.

LEADER

We in the blessing of our house rejoice.

Yet wish we that our mistress too were happy In children, and the lineage of Erechtheus.

XUTHUS

Well hath the god accomplish’d this, my son, Discovering thee, well hath he joined thee to me; And thou hast found the most endearing ties, To which, before this hour, thou wast a stranger.

And the warm wish, which thou hast well conceived, Is likewise mine, that thou mayst find thy mother; I from what woman thou derivest thy birth.

This, left to time, may haply be discover’d.

Now quit this hallow’d earth, the god no more Attending, and to mine accord thy mind, To visit Athens, where thy father’s sceptre, No mean one, waits thee, and abundant wealth: Nor, though thou grieve one parent yet unknown, Shalt thou be censured as ignobly born, Or poor: no, thou art noble, and thy state Adorn’d with rich possessions. Thou art silent.

Why is thine eye thus fixed upon the ground?

Why on thy brow that cloud? The smile of joy Vanish’d, thou strikest thy father’s heart with fear.

ION

Far other things appear when nigh, than seen At distance. I indeed embrace my fortune, In thee my father found. But hear what now Wakes sad reflections. Proud of their high race Are your Athenians, natives of the land, Not drawn from foreign lineage: I to them Shall come unwelcome, in two points defective, My father not a native, and myself Of spurious birth: loaded with this reproach, If destitute of power, I shall be held Abject and worthless: should I rush among The highest order of the state, and wish To appear important, inferior ranks Will hate me; aught above them gives disgust.

The good, the wise, men form’d to serve the state, Are silent, nor at public honours aim Too hastily: by such, were I not quiet In such a bustling state, I should be deem’d Ridiculous, and proverb’d for a fool.

Should I attain the dignity of those, Whose approved worth hath raised them to the height Of public honours, by such suffrage more Should I be watch’d; for they that hold in states Rule and pre-eminence, bear hostile minds To all that vie with them. And should I come To a strange house a stranger, to a woman Childless herself, who that misfortune shared Before with thee, now sees it her sole lot, And feels it bitterly, would she not hate me, And that with justice? When I stand before them.

With what an eye would she, who hath no child, Look on thy child? In tenderness to her, Thy wife, thou must forsake me, or embroil Thy house in discord, if thou favour me.

What murderous means, what poisonous drugs for men Have women with inventive rage prepared!

Besides, I have much pity for thy wife, Now growing old without a child, that grief Unmerited, the last of her high race, The exterior face indeed of royalty, So causelessly commended, bath its brightness; Within, all gloom: for what sweet peace of mind, What happiness is his, whose years are pass’d In comfortless suspicion, and the dread Of violence? Be mine the humble blessings Of private life, rather than be a king, From the flagitious forced to choose my friends, And hate the virtuous through the fear of death.

Gold, thou mayst tell me, hath o’er things like these A sovereign power, and riches give delight: I have no pleasure in this noisy pomp, Nor, while I guard my riches, in the toil: Be mine a modest mean that knows not care.

And now, my father, hear the happy state I here enjoy’d; and first, to mortal man That dearest blessing, leisure, and no bustle To cause disturbance: me no ruffian force Shoved from the way: it is not to be borne, When every insolent and worthless wretch Makes you give place. The worship of the god Employ’d my life, or (no unpleasing task) Service to men well pleased: the parting guest I bade farewell-welcomed the new-arrived.

Thus something always new made every hour Glide sweetly on; and to the human mind That dearest wish, though some regard it not, To be, what duty and my nature made me, Just to the god: revolving this, my father, I wish not for thy Athens to exchange This state; permit me to myself to live; Dear to the mind pleasures that arise From humble life, as those which greatness brings.

LEADER

Well hast thou said, if those whom my soul holds Most dear shall in thy words find happiness.

XUTHUS

No more of this discourse; learn to be happy.

It is my will that thou begin it here, Where first I found thee, son: a general feast Will I provide, and make a sacrifice, Which at thy birth I made not: at my table Will I receive thee as a welcome guest, And cheer thee with the banquet, then conduct the To Athens with me as a visitant, Not as my son: for, mid my happiness, I would not grieve my wife, who hath no child.

ION

But I will watch the occasions time may bring, And so present thee, and obtain her leave That thou mayst hold the sceptre which I bear.

Ion I name thee, as befits thy fortune, As first thou met’st me from the hallow’d shrine As I came forth; assemble then thy friends, Invite them all to share the joyful feast, Since thou art soon to leave the Delphic state.

And you, ye females, keep, I charge you, keep This secret; she that tells my wife shall die.

ION

Let us then go; yet one thing to my fortune Is wanting: if I find not her that bore me, Life hath no joy. Might I indulge a wish, It were to find her an Athenian dame, That from my mother I might dare to assume Some confidence; for he whose fortune leads him To a free state proud of their unmix’d race, Though call’d a citizen, must close his lips With servile awe, for freedom is not his.

XUTHUS and ION go out.

CHORUS singing

strophe

Yes, sisters, yes, the streaming eye, The swelling heart I see, the bursting sigh, When thus rejoicing in his son

Our queen her royal lord shall find, And give to grief her anguish’d mind, Afflicted, childless, and alone.

What means this voice divine,

Son of Latona, fate-declaring power?

Whence is this youth, so fondly graced, That to ripe manhood, from his infant hour, Hath in thy hallow’d courts been plac’d And nurtured at thy shrine?

Thy dark reply delights not me;

Lurking beneath close fraud I see: Where will this end? I fear, I fear-

‘Tis strange, and strange events must hence ensue: But grateful sounds it to his ear, The youth, that in another’s state (Who sees not that my words are true?) Enjoys the fraud, and triumphs in his fate.

antistrophe

Say, sisters, say, with duteous zeal Shall we this secret to our queen reveal?

She, to her royal lord resign’d, With equal hope, with equal care, Form’d her his joys, his griefs to share, And gave him an her willing mind.

But joys are his alone;

While she, poor mourner, with a weight of woes, To hoary age advancing, bends;

He the bright smile of prosperous fortune knows.

Ev’n thus, unhonour’d by his friends, Plac’d on another’s throne,

Mischance and ruin on him wait,

Who fails to guard its happy state.

Him may mischance and ruin seize, Who round my lov’d queen spreads his wily trains.

No god may his oblation please,

No favouring flame to him ascend!

To her my faith, my zeal remains, Known to her ancient royal house a friend.

epode

Now the father and the new-found son The festive table haste to spread, Where to the skies Parnassus lifts his head, And deep beneath the hanging stone Forms in its rudely-rifted side

A cavern wild and wide;

Where Bacchus, shaking high his midnight flames, In many a light fantastic round

Dances o’er the craggy ground,

And revels with his frantic dames.

Ne’er to my city let him come,

This youth: no, rather let him die, And sink into an early tomb!

With an indignant eye

Athens would view the stranger’s pride Within her gates triumphant ride: Enough for her the honour’d race that springs From old Erechtheus and her line of kings.

CREUSA and her aged TUTOR enter.

CREUSA

Thou venerable man, whose guiding voice My father, while he lived, revered, advance Up to the oracular seat thy aged steps; That, if the royal Phoebus should pronounce Promise of offspring, thou with me mayst share The joy; for pleasing is it when with friends Good fortune we receive; if aught of ill (Avert it, Heaven!) befalls, a friend’s kind eye Beams comfort; thee, as once thou didst revere My father, though thy queen, I now revere.

TUTOR

In thee, my child, the nobleness of manners Which graced thy royal ancestors yet lives; Thou never wilt disgrace thy high-born lineage.

Lead me, then, lead me to the shrine, support me: High is the oracular seat, and steep the ascent; Be thou assistant to the foot of age.

CREUSA

Follow; be heedful where thou set thy steps.

TUTOR

I am: my foot is slow, my heart hath wings.

CREUSA

Fix thy staff firm on this loose-rolling ground.

TUTOR

That hath no eyes; and dim indeed my sight.

CREUSA

Well hast thou said; on cheerful then, and faint not.

TUTOR

I have the will, but o’er constraint no power.

CREUSA

Ye females, on my richly-broider’d works Faithful attendants, say, respecting children, For which we came, what fortune hath my lord Borne hence? if good, declare it: you shall find That to no thankless masters you give joy.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

O fortune!

CREUSA

To thy speech this is a proem

Not tuned to happiness.

LEADER

Unhappy fortune!

But why distress me for the oracle Given to our lords? Be that as fate requires In things which threaten death, what shall we do?

CREUSA

What means this strain of woe? Whence are these fears?

LEADER

What! shall we speak, or bury this in silence?

CREUSA

Speak, though thy words bring wretchedness to me.

LEADER

It shall be spoken, were I twice to die.

To thee, my queen, it is not given to clasp In thy fond arms a child, or at thy breast To hold it.

TUTOR

O my child, would I were dead!

CREUSA

Yes, this is wretchedness indeed, a grief That makes life joyless.

TUTOR

This is ruin to us.

CREUSA

Unhappy me! this is a piercing grief, That rends my heart with anguish.

TUTOR

Groan not yet.

CREUSA

Yet is the affliction present.

TUTOR

Till we learn-

CREUSA

To me what tidings?

TUTOR

If a common fate

Await our lord, partaker of thy griefs, Or thou alone art thus unfortunate.

LEADER

To him, old man, the god hath given a son, And happiness is his unknown to her.

CREUSA

To ill this adds the deepest ill, a grief For me to mourn.

TUTOR

Born of some other woman

Is this child yet to come, or did the god Declare one now in being?

LEADER

One advanced

To manhood’s prime he gave him: I was present.

CREUSA

What hast thou said? Thy words denounce to me Sorrows past speech, past utterance.

TUTOR

And to me.

CREUSA

How was this oracle accomplish’d? Tell me With clearest circumstance: who is this youth?

LEADER

Him as a son Apollo gave, whom first, Departing from the god, thy lord should meet.

CREUSA

O my unhappy fate! I then am left Childless to pass my life, childless, alone, Amid my lonely house! Who was declared?

Whom did the husband of this wretch first meet?

How meet him? Where behold him? Tell me all.

LEADER

Dost thou, my honoured mistress, call to mind The youth that swept the temple? This is he.

CREUSA

O, through the liquid air that I could fly, Far from the land of Greece, ev’n to the stars Fix’d in the western sky! Ah me, what grief, What piercing grief is mine I

TUTOR

Say, by what name

Did he address his son, if thou hast heard it?

Or does it rest in silence, yet unknown?

LEADER

Ion, for that he first advanced to meet him.

TUTOR

And of what mother?

LEADER

That I could not learn:

Abrupt was his departure (to inform thee Of all I know, old man) to sacrifice, With hospitable rites, a birthday feast; And in the hallow’d cave, from her apart, With his new son to share the common banquet.

TUTOR

Lady, we by thy husband are betrayed, For I with thee am grieved, with contrived fraud Insulted, from thy father’s house cast forth.

I speak not this in hatred to thy lord, But that I love thee more: a stranger he Came to the city and thy royal house, And wedded thee, all thy inheritance Receiving, by some other woman now Discover’d to have children privately: How privately I’ll tell thee: when he saw Thou hadst no child, it pleased him not to bear A fate like thine; but by some favourite slave, His paramour by stealth, he hath a son.

Him to some Delphian gave he, distant far, To educate; who to this sacred house Consign’d, as secret here, received his nurture.

He knowing this, and that his son advanced To manhood, urged thee to attend him hither, Pleading thy childless state. Nor hath the god Deceived thee: he deceived thee, and long since Contrived this wily plan to rear his son, That, if convicted, he might charge the god, Himself excusing: should the fraud succeed, He would observe the times when he might safely Consign to him the empire of thy land.

And this new name was at his leisure form’d, Ion, for that he came by chance to meet him.

I hate those ill-designing men, that form Plans of injustice, and then gild them over With artificial ornament: to me

Far dearer is the honest simple friend, Than one whose quicker wit is train’d to ill.

And to complete this fraud, thou shalt be urged To take into thy house, to lord it there, This low-born youth, this offspring of a slave.

Though ill, it had been open, had he pleaded Thy want of children, and, thy leave obtain’d, Brought to thy house a son that could have boasted His mother noble; or, if that displeased thee, He might have sought a wife from Aeolus.

Behooves thee then to act a woman’s part, Or grasp the sword, or drug the poison’d bowl, Or plan some deep design to kill thy husband, And this his son, before thou find thy death From them: if thou delay, thy life is lost: For when beneath one roof two foes are met, The one must perish. I with ready zeal Will aid thee in this work, and kill the youth, Entering the grot where he prepares the feast; Indifferent in my choice, so that I pay What to my lords I owe, to live or die.

If there is aught that causes slaves to blush, It is the name; in all else than the free The slave is nothing worse, if he be virtuous.

I too, my honour’d queen, with cheerful mind Will share thy fate, or die, or live with honour.

CREUSA chanting

How, o my soul, shall I be silent, how Disclose this secret? Can I bid farewell To modesty? What else restrains my tongue?

To how severe a trial am I brought!

Hath not my husband wrong’d me? Of my house I am deprived, deprived of children; hope Is vanish’d, which my heart could not resign, With many an honest wish this furtive bed Concealing, this lamented bed concealing.

But by the star-bespangled throne of Jove, And by the goddess high above my rocks Enshrined, by the moist banks that bend around The hallow’d lake by Triton form’d, no longer Will I conceal this bed, but ease my breast, The oppressive load discharged. Mine eyes drop tears, My soul is rent, to wretchedness ensnared By men, by gods, whom I will now disclose, Unkind betrayers of the beds they forced.

O thou, that wakest on thy seven-string’d lyre Sweet notes, that from the rustic lifeless horn Enchant the ear with heavenly melody, Son of Latona, thee before this light Will I reprove. Thou camest to me, with gold Thy locks all glittering, as the vermeil flowers I gather’d in my vest to deck my bosom With the spring’s glowing hues; in my white hand Thy hand enlocking, to the cavern’d rock Thou led’st me; naught avail’d my cries, that call’d My mother; on thou led’st me, wanton god, Immodestly, to Venus paying homage.

A son I bare thee, O my wretched fate!

Him (for I fear’d my mother) in thy cave I placed, where I unhappy was undone By thy unhappy love. Woe, woe is me!

And now my son and thine, ill-fated babe, Is rent by ravenous vultures; thou, meanwhile, Art to thy lyre attuning strains of joy.

Set of Latona, thee I call aloud Who from thy golden seat, thy central throne, Utterest thine oracle: my voice shall reach Thine ear: ungrateful lover, to my husband, No grace requiting, thou hast given a son To bless his house; my son and thine, unown’d, Perish’d a prey to birds; the robes that wrapp’d The infant’s limbs, his mother’s work, lost with him.

Delos abhors thee, and the laurel boughs With the soft foliage of the palm o’erhung, Grasping whose round trunk with her hands divine, Latona thee, her hallow’d offspring, bore.

LEADER

Ah, what a mighty treasury of ills Is open’d here, a copious source of tears!

TUTOR

Never, my daughter, can I sate my eyes With looking on thy face: astonishment Bears me beyond my senses. I had stemm’d One tide of evils, when another flood High-surging overwhelm’d me from the words Which thou hast utter’d, from the present ills To an ill train of other woes transferr’d.

What say’st thou? Of what charge dost thou implead The god? What son hast thou brought forth? Where placed him A feast for vultures? Tell me all again.

CREUSA

Though I must blush, old man, yet I will speak.

TUTOR

I mourn with generous grief at a friend’s woes.

CREUSA

Hear then: the northward-pointing cave thou knowest, And the Cecropian rocks, which we call Macrai.

TUTOR

Where stands a shrine to Pan, and altars nigh.

CREUSA

There in a dreadful conflict I engaged.

TUTOR

What! my tears rise ready to meet thy words.

CREUSA

By Phoebus drawn reluctant to his bed.

TUTOR

Was this, my daughter, such as I suppose?

CREUSA

I know not: but if truth, I will confess it.

TUTOR

Didst thou in silence mourn this secret ill?

CREUSA

This was the grief I now disclose to thee.

TUTOR

This love of Phoebus how didst thou conceal?

CREUSA

I bore a son. Hear me, old man, with patience.

TUTOR

Where? who assisted? or wast thou alone?

CREUSA

Alone, in the same cave where compress’d.

TUTOR

Where is thy son, that childless now no more CREUSA

Dead, good old man, to beasts of prey exposed.

TUTOR

Dead! and the ungrateful Phoebus gives no aid?

CREUSA

None: in the house of Pluto a young guest.

TUTOR

Whose hands exposed him? Surely not thine own.

CREUSA

Mine, in the shades of night, wrapp’d in his vests.

TUTOR

Hadst thou none with thee conscious to this deed?

CREUSA

My misery, and the secret place alone.

TUTOR

How durst thou in a cavern leave thy son?

CREUSA

How? uttering many sad and plaintive words.

TUTOR

Ah, cruel was thy deed, the god more cruel.

CREUSA

Hadst thou but seen him stretch his little hands!

TUTOR

Seeking the breast, or reaching to thine arms?

CREUSA

To this, deprived of which he suffer’d wrong.

TUTOR

And what induced thee to expose thy child?

CREUSA

Hope that the god’s kind care would save his son.

TUTOR

How are the glories of thy house destroy’d!

CREUSA

Why, thine head cover’d, dost thou pour these tears?

TUTOR

To see thee and thy father thus unhappy.

CREUSA

This is the state of man: nothing stands firm.

TUTOR

No longer then, my child, let grief oppress us.

CREUSA

What should I do? In misery all is doubt.

TUTOR

First on the god that wrong’d thee be avenged.

CREUSA

How shall a mortal ‘gainst a god prevail?

TUTOR

Set this revered oracular shrine on fire.

CREUSA

I fear: ev’n now I have enough of ills.

TUTOR

Attempt what may be done then; kill thy husband.

CREUSA

The nuptial bed I reverence, and his goodness.

TUTOR

This son then, which is now brought forth against thee.

CREUSA

How? Could that be, how warmly should I wish it.

TUTOR

Thy train hath swords: instruct them to the deed.

CREUSA

I go with speed: but where shall it be done?

TUTOR

In the hallow’d tent, where now he feasts his friends.

CREUSA

An open murder, and with coward slaves!

TUTOR

If mine displease, propose thou some design.

CREUSA

I have it, close and easy to achieve.

TUTOR

In both my faithful services are thine.

CREUSA

Hear then: not strange to thee the giants’ war.

TUTOR

When they in Phlegra fought against the gods.

CREUSA

There the earth brought forth the Gorgon, horrid monster.

TUTOR

In succour of her sons to annoy the gods?

CREUSA

Ev’n so: her Pallas slew, daughter of Jove.

TUTOR

What fierce and dreadful form did she then wear?

CREUSA

Her breastplate arm’d with vipers wreathed around.

TUTOR

A well-known story; often have I heard it.

CREUSA

Her spoils before her breast Minerva wore.

TUTOR

The aegis; so they call the vest of Pallas.

CREUSA

So named, when in the war she join’d the gods.

TUTOR

But how can this, my child, annoy thy foes?

CREUSA

Thou canst not but remember Erichthonius.

TUTOR

Whom first of thy high race the earth brought forth.

CREUSA

To him while yet an infant Pallas gave-TUTOR

What? Thy slow preface raises expectation.

CREUSA

Two drops of blood that from the Gorgon fell.

TUTOR

And on the human frame what power have these?

CREUSA

The one works death, the other heals disease.

TUTOR

In what around the infant’s body hung?

CREUSA

Enclosed in gold: he gave them to my father.

TUTOR

At his decease then they devolved to thee?

CREUSA

Ay, and I wear it as a bracelet; look.

TUTOR

Their double qualities how temper’d, say.

CREUSA

This drop, which from her hollow vein distill’d,-

TUTOR

To what effect applied? What is its power?

CREUSA

Medicinal, of sovereign use to life.

TUTOR

The other drop, what faculties hath that?

CREUSA

It kills, the poison of the Gorgon dragons.

TUTOR

And dost thou bear this gore blended in one?

CREUSA

No, separate; for with ill good mixes not.

TUTOR

O my dear child, thou hast whate’er we want.

CREUSA

With this the boy shall die, and thou shalt kill him.

TUTOR

Where? How? ‘Tis thine to speak, to dare be mine.

CREUSA

At Athens, when he comes beneath my roof.

TUTOR

I like not this; what I proposed displeased.

CREUSA

Dost thou surmise what enters now my thoughts?

TUTOR

Suspicion waits thee, though thou kill him not.

CREUSA

Thou hast judged well: a stepdame’s hate is proverb’d.

TUTOR

Then kill him here; thou mayst disown the deed.

CREUSA

My mind ev’n now anticipates the pleasure.

TUTOR

Thus shalt thou meet thy husband’s wiles with wiles CREUSA

This shalt thou do: this little golden casket Take from my hand, Minerva’s gift of old; To where my husband secretly prepares The sacrifice, bear this beneath thy vest.

That supper ended, when they are to pour Libations to the gods, thou mayst infuse In the youth’s goblet this: but take good heed, Let none observe thee; drug his cup alone Who thinks to lord it in my house: if once It pass his lips, his foot shall never reach Illustrious Athens: death awaits him here.

She gives him the casket.

TUTOR

Go thou then to the hospitable house Prepared for thy reception: be it mine, Obedient to thy word to do this deed.

Come then, my aged foot, be once more young In act, though not in years, for past recall That time is fled: kill him, and bear him forth.

Well may the prosperous harbour virtuous thought; But when thou wouldst avenge thee on thy foes, There is no law of weight to hinder thee.

They both go out.