Untouched of lucre, terrible to smite,
And swift and merciful, a guard to keep
Vigil above my people while they sleep.
Which here I establish. Let these words advise
My city evermore.—I charge you, rise
And lift your stones of doom and judge, alway
Your oath remembering. I have said my say. The Judges rise and go one by one past the two urns, casting their stones as they pass.
Behold, an awful presence moveth yet
Within your land, which mock not nor forget!
The will of Zeus, by my lips ministered,
I charge you make not fruitless nor unfeared!
And what wouldst thou with blood, having therein
No place? Henceforth thine altars are unclean!
Did Zeus, then, sin, who bowed his head to spare
Blood-red Ixion for his burning prayer?
Thou speakest: but my Law, if it be broke,
Shall come again in wrath to haunt this folk.
Thou hast no honour more ’mid things divine,
Or old or new: the victory shall be mine.
So in Admêtus’ House thou didst betray
The Fates, to make man deathless past his day.
Shall not a god regard his worshipper
Then chiefliest, when in peril and in prayer?
The ancient boundaries thou didst desecrate,
Thou mad’st a drunkard of Eternal Fate!
True Justice thou canst know not. Thou shalt spue
Thy venom forth, and none give heed thereto.
Women are we, and old; and thou dost ride
Above us, trampling, in thy youth and pride.
Howbeit, I wait to know the end, being still
In doubt to work this City good or ill.
One judgement still remains. I, at the last,
To set Orestes free this stone will cast:
For, lo, no mother bare me: I approve
In all—save only that I know not love—
The man’s way. Flesh and spirit I am His
Who gave me life. And in this coil it is
No dire deed that a woman, who had slain
Her mate and house-lord, should be quelled again.
Wherefore I judge that here, if equal be
The votes ye cast, Orestes shall go free.
Ye judges, haste: on you this office turns:
And cast the gathered sea-stones from the urns.
Apollo, Lord, what shall the issue be?
O Night, O dark-eyed Mother, dost thou see?
Is it the noose of death, or life and light?
My law down-trodden or enthroned in right?
Divide the fallen sea-stones as is due,
Strangers, and in the count see all be true.
An absent voice hath made life ruinous,
And one cast pebble42 built a fallen house. The scrutineers bring their results to Athena.
This prisoner, since the stones for ill and good
Are equal, hath escaped the doom of blood.43
O Pallas, O deliverer of my race,
Thou hast led back the wanderer to his place,
The homeless to his home; and men shall say
“Once more he is an Argive, and this day
Dwells in his father’s riches, by the word
Of Pallas, Loxias, and Zeus the Third,
Who saveth all and all accomplisheth.”
’Twas He of old who saw my father’s death,
And pitied; He who saw pursuing me
My mother’s ministers, and set me free.
Pallas, to this thy people and thy clime
Through all the long years of ensuing Time
I swear, ere I depart to mine own land,
This oath. No captain of an Argive band
Shall ever against Athens raise his spear.
Yea, and if any break this law, I swear
Myself out of the grave bewilderment
Shall set before their host, and discontent,
Disheartened roads and rivers evil-starred,
Till back they turn, bowed down by toils too hard
For bearing. But if still with vow unbroke,
Through storm or shine, for Pallas and her folk
Their lance is lifted, then to Argos too
My love shall be the greater, and hold true.
And fare thee well, O Pallas; fare you well,
All that within her ancient rampart dwell;
Iron may your grasp against all evil be,
And strong to save, and big with victory! Exit Orestes.
Woe on you, woe, ye younger gods!
Ye have trampled the great Laws of old
Beneath your chariots! Ye have broke the rods
Of justice, yea and torn them from my hold!
Mine office gone, unhappy and angered sore,
I rage alone. What have I any more
To do? Or be? Shall not mine injury turn
And crush this people? Shall not poison rain
Upon them, even the poison of this pain
Wherewith my heart doth burn?
And up therefrom there shall a lichen creep,
A leafless, childless, blight,
A stain in the earth man-slaying. … O just
Throne of Right!
Have ye not suffered deep,
Deep, ye unhappy children of old Night,
Born to be scorned and weep!
I pray you, nay! Make not this bitter moan;44
Ye are not conquered. Equal, stone for stone,
The judgement fell, in honesty of thought,
Not scorn of thee. From Zeus on high was brought
A shining witness; and the god, who gave
The word to slay, himself was here to save,
Lest this man for obedience to his will
Should perish. … And for this ye fain would spill
Your poison? Ah, take thought! Nor on our heads
Rain the strange dew a spirit’s anger sheds,
Seed-ravening blight and mildews merciless,
Till all the land lie waste in fruitlessness.
Spare us, and, lo, I promise: here shall be
A home your own, a caverned mystery,
Where alway ye shall sit, enthroned in pride
And shining, by my people glorified.
Woe on you, woe, ye younger gods!45
Ye have trampled the great Laws of old
Beneath your chariots! Ye have broke the rods
Of justice, yea and torn them from my hold!
Mine office gone, unhappy and angered sore,
I rage alone. What have I any more
To do? Or be? Shall not mine injury turn
And crush this people? Shall not poison rain
Upon them, even the poison of this pain
Wherewith my heart doth burn?
And up therefrom there shall a lichen creep,
A leafless, childless, blight,
A stain in the earth man-slaying. … O just
Throne of Right!
Have ye not suffered deep,
Deep, ye unhappy children of old Night,
Born to
