Alcestis (1020-1092)

This lady take and keep for me until I come bringing hither the steeds of Thrace, after I have slain the lord of the Bistones. But should I fare as fare I fain would not, I give her to thee to serve within thy halls.

With no small toil she came into my hands. ’Twas thus: I found folk just appointing an open contest for athletes, well worth a struggle, and there I won her as a prize and brought her thence; now those who were successful in the lighter contests had

horses for their prize, but those who conquered in severer feats, in boxing and wrestling, won herds of oxen, and this woman was to be added thereto; with such a chance ’twere shame indeed to pass so fair a guerdon by.

So thou must take her in thy charge, as I said; for not by theft but honest toil I won the prize I bring; and maybe e’en thou in time wilt thank me.

’Twas not because of any slight or unkind thought of thee that I concealed my wife’s sad fate; but this were adding grief to grief

if thou hadst gone from hence to the halls of some other friend; and it sufficed that I should mourn my sorrow. But I do beseech thee, prince, if ’tis possible, bid some other Thessalian, one who hath not suffered as I have, keep the maiden for thee,—and thou hast many

friends in Pherae; remind me not of my misfortune. For I could not see her in my house and stay my tears. Oh! add not new affliction to my stricken heart, for sure by sorrow am I bowed enough. And where within my halls could a tender maiden live?

for such she is, as her dress and vesture show. Is she to dwell where men consort? Then how shall she retain her maiden purity, if ’mid our youths she come and go? O Heracles, it is no easy task to check a young man’s fancy, and I am anxious for thy sake.

Or am I to take her to my dead wife’s bower and care for her? How can I bring her there to fill the other’s bed? Twofold reproach I fear; first, some fellow-townsman may taunt me with betraying my benefactress in eagerness to wed a new young bride;

next, there is my dead wife, whom I should much regard, for she doth merit all my reverence. Thou too, lady, whosoe’er thou art, believe me, art the very counterfeit presentment of Alcestis, the picture of her form, ah me! O take this maiden, I conjure thee, from my sight;

slay me not already slain. For in her I seem once more to see my wife; and my heart is darkly troubled, and the fountains of my eyes are loosed. Ah, woe is me! Now do I taste the bitterness of this my grief.

Indeed I cannot call thy fortune blest, yet heaven’s gift must thou endure, whoe’er the god that comes to bring it.

Would I had the power to bring thy wife up to the light from the halls of death, and confer this kindness on thee!

Right well I know thou wouldst. But what of that? The dead can never come to life again.

Do not exceed the mark, but bear thy grief with moderation.

’Tis easier to advise than to suffer and endure.

Yet what thy gain, if thou for aye wilt mourn?

I too know that myself, but some strange yearning leads me on.

Love for the dead compels a tear.

Her death was mine, more than any words of mine can tell.

Thou hast lost a noble wife; who shall gainsay it?

Life henceforth hath lost all charm for me.

Time will soothe the smart; as yet thy grief is young.

Time! use that word, if death and time are one.

A new wife and a longing for a fresh marriage will stay thy sorrow.

Peace! What words are thine? I ne’er of thee had thought it.

What! wilt never wed, but preserve thy widowed state?

There is no woman living that shall share my couch.

Dost think that this will help the dead at all?

My reverence she deserves, where’er she is.