Alcestis (785-845)

for Fortune’s issues are not in our ken, beyond the teacher’s rule they lie, no art can master them. Hearken then to this and learn of me, be merry, drink thy cup, and count the present day thine own, the rest to Fortune yield.

And to Cypris too, sweetest of the gods by far to man, thy tribute pay, for kindly is her mood. Let be those other cares, and heed my counsel if thou think’st I speak aright; methinks I do. Come, banish this excessive grief,

and drink a cup with me when thou hast passed beyond these doors and wreathed thy brow; and I feel sure the plash of wine within the cup will bring thee to a better haven from this crabbed mood, this cabined state of mind.[*] Mortals we are, and mortals’ thoughts should have;

for all they who frown and scowl do miss,—leastways I think so,—the true life and get themselves misfortune.

I know all that, but our present state has little claim on revelry or laughter.

The dead was a stranger woman; grieve not to excess; for the rulers of thy house are living.

How, living? Thou knowest not the trouble in the house.

I do, unless thy master did in aught deceive me.

Too hospitable is he.

Was I to miss good cheer because a stranger had died?

A stranger surely! quite a stranger she!

Is there some trouble that he withheld from me?

Farewell, go thy way! my master’s troubles are my care.

This word of thine heralds not a grief for strangers felt.

Had it been, the sight of thy merriment had not grieved me so.

Can[*] it be mine host hath strangely wronged me?

Thou earnest at no proper time for our house to welcome thee, for sorrow is come upon us; lo! thou seest our shorn heads and robes of sable hue.

Who is it that is dead?

Is it a child or his aged sire that hat hath passed away?

Nay, sir guest, ’tis Admetus’ wife that is no more.

What sayest thou? and did ye then in spite of that admit me to your cheer?

Yes, for his regard would not let him send thee from his door.

Unhappy husband, what a wife hast thou lost!

We are all undone, not she alone.

I knew it when I saw his streaming eye, shorn head and downcast look, yet did he persuade me, saying it was a stranger he was bearing to burial. So I did constrain myself and passed his gates

and sat drinking in his hospitable halls, when he was suffering thus. And have I wreathed my head and do I revel still? But—thou to hold thy peace when such a crushing sorrow lay upon the house! Where is he burying her? Whither shall I go to find her?

Beside the road that leadeth straight to Larissa, shalt thou see her carved tomb outside the suburb.

O heart, O soul, both sufferers oft, now show the mettle of that son Tirynthian Alcmena, daughter of Electryon, bare to Zeus.

For I must save this woman, dead but now, setting Alcestis once again within this house, and to Admetus this kind service render. So I will go and watch for death the black-robed monarch of the dead, and him methinks I shall find

as he drinks of the blood-offering near the tomb. And if, from ambush rushing, once I catch and fold him in my arms’ embrace, none shall ever wrest him thence with smarting ribs, ere he give up the woman unto me.