Heracleidae (440-547)

Whither shall we turn? for what god’s altar have we left uncrowned? to what fenced city have we failed to go? Ruin and surrender are our instant lot, poor children! If I must die, ’tis naught to me, save that thereby I give those foes of mine some cause for joy.

But you, children, I lament and pity, and that aged mother of your sire, Alcmena. Ah, woe is thee for thy long span of life! and woe is me for all my idle toil! ’Twas after all our destined doom to fall into the hands of our hated foe,

and die a death of shame and misery. But lend me thine aid, thou knowest how; for all hope of these children’s safety has not yet left me. Give me up instead of them to the Argives, O king; run no risk, but let me save

the children; to love my life becomes me not; let it pass. Me[*] will Eurystheus be most glad to take and treat despitefully, as I was Heracles’ companion; for the man is but a boor; wherefore wise men ought to pray to get a wise man for their foe, and not a proud senseless fool;

for so, even if by fortune[*] flouted, one would meet with much consideration.

Old man, blame[*] not this city; for though perhaps a gain[*] to us, yet would it be a foul reproach that we betrayed strangers.

A generous scheme is thine, but impossible.

’Tis not in quest of thee yon king comes marching hither; what would Eurystheus gain by the death of one so old? Nay, ’tis these children’s blood he wants. For there is danger to a foe in the youthful scions of a noble race, whose memory dwells upon their father’s wrongs;

all this Eurystheus must foresee. But if thou hast any scheme besides, that better suits the time, be ready with it, for, since I heard that oracle, I am at a loss and full of fear. [Exit Demophon.

Sirs, impute not boldness to me, because

I venture forth; this shall be my first request, for a woman’s fairest crown is this, to practise silence and discretion, and abide at home in peace. But when I heard thy lamentations, Iolaus, I came forth, albeit I was not appointed to take the lead in my family.

Still in some sense am I fit to do so, for these my brothers are my chiefest care, and I fain would ask, as touching myself, whether some new trouble, added to the former woes, is gnawing at thy heart.

My daughter, ’tis nothing new that I should praise thee, as I justly may,

above all the children of Heracles. Our house seemed to be prospering, when back it fell again into a hopeless state; for the king declares the prophets signify that he must order the sacrifice, not of bull or heifer, but of some tender maid

of noble lineage, if we and this city are to exist. Herein is our perplexity; the king refuses either to sacrifice his own or any other’s child. [*] Wherefore, though he use not terms express, yet doth he hint,

that, unless we find some way out of this perplexity, we must seek some other land, for he this country fain would save.

Are these indeed the terms on which our safety depends?

Yea, on these; if, that is, we are successful otherwise.

No longer then cower before the hated Argive spear; for I, of my own free will, or ever they bid me, am ready to die and offer myself as a victim. For what excuse have we, if, while this city deems it right to incur a great danger on our behalf,

we, though we might save ourselves, fly from death, by foisting our trouble on others? No! indeed, ’twere surely most ridiculous to sit and mourn as suppliants of the gods, and show ourselves but cowards, children as we are of that illustrious sire.

Where among the brave is such conduct seen? Better, I suppose, this city should be taken and I (which Heaven forefend!) fall into the hands of the enemy, and then, for all I am my noble father’s child, meet an awful doom, and face the Death-god none the less.

Shall I wander as an exile from this land? Shall I not feel shame then, when someone says, as say they will, Why are ye come hither with suppliant boughs, loving your lives too well? Begone from our land! for we will not succour cowards.

Nay, if these be slain and I alone be saved, I have no hope in any wise of being happy, though many ere now have in this hope betrayed their friends. For who will care to wed a lonely maid or make me mother of his children?

’Tis better I should die than meet such treatment, [*] little as I merit it. This were fitter treatment for some other, one that is not born to fame as I am. Conduct me to the scene of death, [*] crown me with garlands, and begin the rites, if so it please you;

then be victorious o’er the foe, for here I offer my life freely and without constraint, and for my brothers and myself I undertake to die. [*] For I, by loving not my life too well, have found a treasure very fair, a glorious means to leave it.

Ah, what shall I say on hearing the maid’s brave words, she that is ready to die for her brothers? Who can speak more noble words or do more noble deeds henceforth for ever?

Daughter, thou art his own true child, no other man’s but Heracles’,

that godlike soul; proud am I of thy words, though I sorrow for thy lot. Yet will I propose a fairer method: ’tis right to summon hither all the sisters of this maiden,

and then let her, on whom the lot shall fall, die for her family; for that thou shouldst die without the lot is not just.

My death shall no chance lot decide; there is no graciousness in that; peace! old friend. But if ye accept and will avail you