Eumenides (1-118)

First, in this prayer of mine, I give the place of highest honor among the gods to the first prophet, Earth; and after her to Themis, for she was the second to take this oracular seat of her mother, as legend tells.

And in the third allotment, with Themis’ consent and not by force, another Titan, child of Earth, Phoebe, took her seat here. She gave it as a birthday gift to Phoebus, who has his name from Phoebe. Leaving the lake[*]and ridge of Delos,

he landed on Pallas’ ship-frequented shores, and came to this region and the dwelling places on Parnassus. The children of Hephaistos,[*]road-builders taming the wildness of the untamed land, escorted him with mighty reverence.

And at his arrival, the people and Delphus, helmsman and lord of this land, made a great celebration for him. Zeus inspired his heart with prophetic skill and established him as the fourth prophet on this throne; but Loxias is the spokesman of Zeus, his father.

These are the gods I place in the beginning of my prayer. And Pallas who stands before the temple[*] is honored in my words; and I worship the Nymphs where the Corycian[*]rock is hollow, the delight of birds and haunt of gods. Bromius has held the region —I do not forget him—

ever since he, as a god, led the Bacchantes in war, and contrived for Pentheus death as of a hunted hare. I call on the streams of Pleistus and the strength of Poseidon, and highest Zeus, the Fulfiller; and then I take my seat as prophetess upon my throne.

And may they allow me now to have the best fortune, far better than on my previous entrances. And if there are any from among the Hellenes here, let them enter, in turn, by lot, as is the custom. For I prophesy as the god leads. She enters the temple and after a brief interval returns terror-stricken

Horrors to tell, horrors for my eyes to see, have sent me back from the house of Loxias,

so that I have no strength and I cannot walk upright. I am running on hands and knees, with no quickness in my limbs; for an old woman, overcome with fright, is nothing, or rather she is like a child. I was on my way to the inner shrine, decked with wreaths;

I saw on the center-stone[*]a man defiled in the eyes of the gods, occupying the seat of suppliants. His hands were dripping blood; he held a sword just drawn and an olive-branch, from the top of the tree, decorously crowned with a large tuft of wool,

a shining fleece; for as to this I can speak clearly. Before this man an extraordinary band of women slept, seated on thrones. No! Not women, but rather Gorgons I call them; and yet I cannot compare them to forms of Gorgons either.

Once before I saw some creatures in a painting,[*]carrying off the feast of Phineus; but these are wingless in appearance, black, altogether disgusting; they snore with repulsive breaths, they drip from their eyes hateful drops;

their attire is not fit to bring either before the statues of the gods or into the homes of men.I have never seen the tribe that produced this company, nor the land that boasts of rearing this brood with impunity and does not grieve for its labor afterwards.

Let what is to come now be the concern of the master of this house, powerful Loxias himself. He is a prophet of healing, a reader of portents, and for others a purifier of homes. Exit

No! I will not abandon you. Your guardian to the end,

close by your side or far removed, I will not be gentle to your enemies. So now you see these mad women overcome; these loathsome maidens have fallen asleep, old women, ancient children, with whom

no god or man or beast ever mingles. They were even born for evil, since they live in evil gloom and in Tartarus under the earth, creatures hateful to men and to the Olympian gods. Nevertheless, escape and do not be cowardly.

For as you go always over the earth that wanderers tread, they will drive you on, even across the wide mainland, beyond the sea and the island cities. Do not grow weary too soon, brooding on this labor, but when you have come to Pallas’ city,

sit down and hold in your arms her ancient image. And there, with judges of your case and speeches of persuasive charm, we shall find means to release you completely from your labors. For I persuaded you to take your mother’s life.

Lord Apollo, you know how to do no wrong; and, since you know this, learn not to be neglectful also. For your power to do good is assured.

Remember, do not let fear overpower your heart. You, Hermes, my blood brother, born of the same father,

watch over him; true to your name, be his guide,[*]shepherding this suppliant of mine—truly Zeus respects this right of outlaws—as he is sped on towards mortals with the fortune of a good escort. Exit. Orestes departs escorted by Hermes. The Ghost of Clytaemestra appears.

Sleep on! Aha! Yet what need is there of sleepers?

It is due to you that I am thus dishonored among the other dead; because of those I killed the dead never cease to reproach me, and I wander in disgrace. I tell you that I am most greatly accused by them.

And yet, although I have suffered cruelly in this way from my nearest kin, no divine power is angry on my behalf, slaughtered as I have been by the hands of a matricide. See these gashes in my heart, and from where they came! For the sleeping mind has clear vision,

but in the daytime the fate of mortals is unforeseeable. Truly, you have lapped up many of my offerings—wineless libations, a sober appeasement; and I have sacrificed banquets in the solemn night upon a hearth of fire at an hour unshared by any god.

I see all this trampled under foot. But he has escaped and is gone, like a fawn; lightly indeed, from the middle of snares, he has rushed away mocking at you. Hear me, since I plead for my life,

awake to consciousness, goddesses of the underworld! For in a dream I, Clytaemestra, now invoke you.

(whine) The Chorus begins to move uneasily, uttering a whining sound.

Whine, if you will! But the man is gone, fled far away. For he has friends that are not like mine!