Eumenides

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 360 sections

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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.
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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 lakeand ridge of Delos,
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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.
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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.
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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 Corycianrock is hollow, the delight of birds and haunt of gods. Bromius has held the region —I do not forget him—
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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.
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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
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Horrors to tell, horrors for my eyes to see, have sent me back from the house of Loxias,
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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;
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I saw on the center-stonea 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,
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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.
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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;
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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.
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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
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No! I will not abandon you. Your guardian to the end,
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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
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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.
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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,
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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.
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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.
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Remember, do not let fear overpower your heart. You, Hermes, my blood brother, born of the same father,
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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.
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Sleep on! Aha! Yet what need is there of sleepers?
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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.
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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,
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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.
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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,
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awake to consciousness, goddesses of the underworld! For in a dream I, Clytaemestra, now invoke you.
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(whine) The Chorus begins to move uneasily, uttering a whining sound.
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Whine, if you will! But the man is gone, fled far away. For he has friends that are not like mine!
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(whine) The Chorus continues to whine.
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You are too drowsy and do not pity my suffering. Orestes, the murderer of me, his mother, is gone!
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(moan) The Chorus begins to moan
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You moan, you drowse—will you not get up at once? Is it your destiny to do anything other than cause harm?
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(moan) The Chorus continues to moan.
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Sleep and toil, effective conspirators, have destroyed the force of the dreadful dragoness.
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Catch him! Catch him! Catch him! Catch him! Look sharp!
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In a dream you are hunting your prey, and are barking like a dog that never leaves off its keenness for the work. What are you doing? Get up; do not let fatigue overpower you, and do not ignore my misery because you have been softened by sleep.
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Sting your heart with merited reproaches; for reproach becomes a spur to the right-minded. Send after him a gust of bloody breath, shrivel him with the vapor, the fire from your guts, follow him, wither him with fresh pursuit! The Ghost of Clytaemestra disappears; the Furies, roused by their leader, awake one after the other.
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Awake! Wake her up, as I wake you.Still asleep? Get up, shake off sleep, let us see if any part of this beginningis in vain.
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Oh, oh! Alas! We have suffered, friends. Indeed I have suffered much and all in vain.
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We have suffered very painfully, oh! an unbearable evil. The beast has escaped from our nets and is gone. Overcome by sleep, I have lost my prey.
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Oh! Child of Zeus, you have become a thief—
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you, a youth, have ridden down old divinities—by showing respect to your suppliant, a godless man and cruel to a parent; although you are a god, you have stolen away a man that killed his mother. What is there here that anyone shall call just?
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Reproach, coming to me in a dream, struck me like a charioteer with goad held tight, under my heart, under my vitals.
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I can feel the cruel, the very cruel chill of the executioner’s destroying scourge.
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They do such things, the younger gods, who rule, wholly beyond justice, a throne dripping blood,
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about its foot, about its head. I can see the center-stone of the earth defiled with a terrible pollution of blood.
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Although he is a prophet, he has stained his sanctuary
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with pollution at its hearth, at his own urging, at his own bidding; against the law of the gods, he has honored mortal things and caused the ancient allotments to decay.
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And he brings distress to me too, but he shall not win his release;
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even if he escapes beneath the earth, he is never set free. A suppliant, he will acquire another avenger from his family.
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Out, I order you! Go away from this house at once,
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leave my prophetic sanctuary, so that you may not be struck by a winged glistening snake shot forth from a golden bow-string, and painfully release black foam, vomiting the clots of blood you have drained from mortals.
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It is not right for you to approach this house; no, your place is where the punishments are beheading, gouging out of eyes, cutting of throats, and where young men’s virility is ruined by destruction of seed; where there is mutilation and stoning, and where those who are impaled beneath their spine moan long and piteously.
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Do you hear what sort of feast is your delight? You are detested by the gods for it. The whole fashion of your form sets it forth. Creatures like you should live in the den of a blood-drinking lion, and not inflict pollution
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on all near you in this oracular shrine. Be gone, you goats without a herdsman! No god loves such a flock.
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Lord Apollo, hear our reply in turn. You yourself are not partially guilty of this deed;
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you alone have done it all, and are wholly guilty.
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What do you mean? Draw out the length of your speech this much.
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Through your oracle, you directed the stranger to kill his mother.
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Through my oracle, I directed him to exact vengeance for his father. What of it?
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And then you agreed to take the fresh blood on yourself.
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And I ordered him to turn for expiation to this house.
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And do you then rebuke us, the ones who escorted him here?
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Yes, for you are not fit to approach this house.
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But this has been assigned to us—
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What is this office of yours? Boast of your fine privilege!
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We drive matricides from their homes.
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But what about a wife who kills her husband?
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That would not be murder of a relative by blood.
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Then truly you dishonor and bring to nothing the pledges of Hera, the Fulfiller, and Zeus.
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Cypris too is cast aside, dishonored by this argument, and from her come the dearest things for mortals. For marriage ordained by fate for a man and a woman is greater than an oath and guarded by Justice. If, then, one should kill the other and you are so lenient
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as not to punish or visit them with anger, I claim that you unjustly banish Orestes from his home. For I see you taking the one cause very much to heart, but clearly acting more leniently about the other. But the goddess Pallas will oversee the pleadings in this case.
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I will never, never leave that man!
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Pursue him then and get more trouble for yourself.
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Do not cut short my privileges by your words.
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I would not take your privileges as a gift.
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No, for in any case you are called great at the throne of Zeus.
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But as for me—since a mother’s blood leads me, I will pursue my case against this man and I will hunt him down. Exeunt.
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And I will aid my suppliant and rescue him! For the wrath of the one who seeks purification is terrible among mortals and gods, if I intentionally abandon him. Enters the Sanctuary.
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Lady Athena, at Loxias’ command I have come. Receive kindly an accursed wretch, not one who seeks purification, or with unclean hand, but with my guilt’s edge already blunted and worn away at other homes and in the travelled paths of men.
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Going over land and sea alike, keeping the commands of Loxias’ oracle, I now approach your house and image, goddess. Here I will keep watch and await the result of my trial.
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Aha! This is a clear sign of the man. Follow the hints of a voiceless informer. For as a hound tracks a wounded fawn, so we track him by the drops of blood. My lungs pant from many tiring struggles, for I have roamed over the whole earth,
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and I have come over the sea in wingless flight, pursuing him, no slower than a ship. And now he is here somewhere, cowering. The smell of human blood gives me a smiling welcome.
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Look! Look again!
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Look everywhere, so that the matricide will not escape by secret flight, with his debt unpaid! Yes, here he is again with a defense; his arms twisted around the image of the immortal goddess,
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he wishes to be tried for his debt. But that is not possible; a mother’s blood upon the earth is hard to recover—alas, the liquid poured on the ground is gone. But you must allow me in return to suck
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the red blood from your living limbs. May I feed on you—a gruesome drink! I will wither you alive and drag you down, so that you pay atonement for your murdered mother’s agony. And you will see any other mortal who has sinned by not honoring
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a god or a stranger or dear parents, each having a just punishment. For Hades is mighty in holding mortals to account under the earth,
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and he observes all things and within his mind inscribes them.
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Taught by misery, I know many purification rituals, and I know where it is right to speak and equally to be silent; and in this case, I have been ordered to speak by a wise teacher.
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For the blood is slumbering and fading from my hand, the pollution of matricide is washed away; while it was still fresh, it was driven away at the hearth of the god Phoebus by purifying sacrifices of swine. It would be a long story to tell from the beginning,
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how many people I have visited, with no harm from association with me. Time purges all things, aging with them. So now with a pure mouth I piously invoke Athena, lady of this land, to come to my aid. Without the spear,
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she will win me and my land and the Argive people as faithful and true allies for all time. But whether in some region of the Libyan land, near the waters of Triton, her native stream, she is in action or at rest,
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aiding those whom she loves, or whether, like a bold marshal, she is surveying the Phlegraean plain, oh, let her come—as a goddess, she hears even from far away—to be my deliverer from distress!
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Come now, let us also join the dance, since we are resolved to display our hated song
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and to declare our allotted office, how our party directs the affairs of men. We claim to be just and upright. No wrath from us will come stealthily to the one who holds out clean hands,
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and he will go through life unharmed; but whoever sins, as this man has, and hides his blood-stained hands, as avengers of bloodshed we appear against him to the end, presenting ourselves as upright witnesses for the dead.
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O mother Night, hear me, mother who gave birth to me as a retribution for the blind and the seeing. For Leto’s son dishonors me

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0085.tlg007.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0. Source.