APOLLO, with his bow and quiver, appears on the stage.

Apol. Ah, hospitable roof! where, though a god,
I condescended to the hireling's board:

Zeus was the cause, who, with the lightning's flame,
Transfixed my dear son Esculapius;

Whereon I slew the Cyclops, in my rage,
The one-eyed forgers of his fiery bolts;
In punishment whereof the Sire ordained
I should for wages serve a mortal man.
Here was my service done, and in this land
I tended for my host his flocks and herds,
And up to this day have preserved his house,
The holy dwelling of a holy man,

Admetus; for whose sake I tricked the Fates,
And won their promise he should escape the death,
Then near his door, if he could substitute

One willing, in his stead, to satisfy
Expectant Hades. But not one he found,
Although he went the round of all his friends,
Father nor mother, none except his wife,
That willing was to encounter death for him,
And look upon the pleasant light no more.
E'en now, within there, in his arms sustained,
She heaves her breath, fast drawing to her end;
For on this day she must depart from life.
But I have left the dear and friendly roof,
To avoid pollution. Lo! here cometh Death,
Priest of the dead, at his appointed time,
To lead her downward to the shades below.

DEATH enters.

Death. Ho! ho! what art thou doing here?

Why art thou walking to and fro?

To rob again of awe and fear,

And honour due, the Powers below?

Was it not enough for thee to cheat us,

And put a trick upon the Fates,

Deferring for thy loved Admetus

His passage through the gloomy gates?
But now again, with bow and quiver,
Art mounting guard to save the wife,
That undertook then to deliver

Her husband, giving life for life?

Apol. Fear not I hold to justice, and just pleas.
Death. In that case, why this bow?

Apol.

To carry it.

It is my wont

Death. And to aid this house unjustly.

Apol. I am touched at the distress of one I love.
Death. Wilt rob me of a second victim now?
Apol. No! neither did I rescue him by force.
Death. How is he, then, above, not under ground.
Apol. By substituting her, for whom thou art come.
Death. Ay, and I will take her.
Apol.
Take her, then, and go:-
Though fain, I know not if I can persuade the-
Death. To slay the victim due? it is my task.
Apol. Nay, but to lay thy hand on lingering age.
Death. I understand thy meaning and thy wish.
Apol. Is it possible Alcestis may survive,

At age arriving?

Death.

It is not; consider,

I too have pleasure in the dues of power.

Apol. Thy business here is only with one life.
Death. When the young die, the greater glory mine.
Apol. Should she die old, a richer burial hers.
Death. Thy law is all in favour of the rich.

Apol. What? thou a sophist, none suspecting it?
Death. They'd buy delay of death till they were old.
Apol. Wilt thou grant me this favour?

Death.

I will not;

And thou art well acquainted with my mood.

Apol. Hostile to mortals, hateful to the gods.

Death. Thou canst not have all things thou shouldst not have.
Apol. Though fierce, yet shalt thou stop in this proceeding;

For such a man, by King Eurystheus sent

To bring him chariot steeds from wintry Thrace,
Will hither come, and in this house be guest,
That shall from thee this woman take by force.
I'll owe thee then no thanks, but hate instead,

And thou wilt have to do what now I ask.

Death. For all thy words thy gain is nothing more;
This woman shall descend to Hades' house.

I'll now advance on her, and with this sword
Begin the consecration; when this blade
Has lopt the doomed hair of any head,
That soul is sacred to the gods below.

APOLLO quits the scene.

DEATH enters the PALACE.

The CHORUS then enter in two divisions.

1st Semich. Why this silence so profound,

In the house, and all around?

2d Semich. Why is there none to let us know If for the dead our tears should flow;

Or if the queen, so dear to sight,
Yet lives and looks upon the light,
The wife that is, by common fame,
The best that ever had the name?

1st Semich. Does any hear a lamentation

As of a house in desolation,

Sobs or sounds that hands awaken

In grief for one by death o'ertaken?

2d Semich. No! nor is a servant near:

Mid the woe's o'erwhelming wave,
Pean! at our wish appear,

Healing god! appear to save!

1st Semich. The silence, of itself alone,

Is token plain she is not gone.

2d Semich. We have not this hope of yours:

Whence is it? Speak, and make it ours.

1st Semich. How could Admetus, hid from all, Have made his consort's funeral?

2d Semich. Before the gates I do not see The lustral water wont to be

So placed, whene'er a corse doth lie;
Nor in the vestibule descry

The locks in sign of sorrow shorn
By them that for a dead one mourn;
Nor for the young, cut off by fate,
The women's hands reverberate.

1st Semich. Yet this is the appointed day

2d Semich. What's that? What is it that you say? 1st Semich. In which she downward should depart. 2d Semich. Ye've touched my soul, ye've touched my All that in life true virtue cherish

Must mourn whene'er the virtuous perish.

Chorus. There is no spot on all earth round,

To which a winged ship can bound,
Nor Lycia, nor the thirsty plain
Of Ammon's immemorial fane,
By sending whither one can save
This hapless lady from the grave;
For fate abrupt is near at hand :—
Of them that by the altars stand,
And make the blood of victims flow,
I know not unto whom to go.

Only the son of Phoebus might
Recover her again to light,

If he yet lived: the dead he raised,
Till from the hand of Zeus out-blazed
The levin-brand and laid him low.
What hope for her life can I know?
All could be done the king has done :-
Of all the gods the altars run

With blood of victims--but this ill

Is, notwithstanding, cureless still.

heart.

A Female Servant is seen coming from the Palace.

But from the house a weeping woman comes.
What shall we hear? when our lords suffer aught,
Our mournful sympathy is justified;

We fain would learn if she be dead or not.
Serv. Ye may now call her both alive and dead.
Chor. How can one be alive and dead at once?
Serv. She's as it were laid out, near her last gasp.
Chor. Ah, wretched husband, losing what a wife!
Serv. He knows not yet, but soon will feel the loss.
Chor. Is there no longer hope of saving her?

Serv. It is the day appointed her to die.

Chor. Are not the fitting preparations made?
Serv. The pomp is ready for her burial.

Chor. Let her then know she dies with best renown,

As noblest wife of all beneath the sun.

Serv. Who will deny it? Oh! what must she be

That can outparagon her excellence?

How can a wife show greater proof of love
Than giving her own life to save her lord's?
But this the country round already knows;
Ye'll be astonished more at what I'll tell you.
When she perceived the appointed day was come,
She bathed in water from the running stream,
And from the cedar chest took rich attire,
Her lovely person carefully arraying,

And standing at the sacred hearth, exclaimed:-
"Queen Vesta! I am going now below,

And kneel and pray to thee the latest time,
To guard the children I leave motherless;
A loving consort for the boy provide,
And for the girl a brave and noble spouse;
Nor let them die untimely as I do,
But with all blessings in their fatherland
Bring to completion a life full of joy."
And then she went, and every altar crowned,
Stripping the foliage from the myrtle boughs,
And prayed without a tear, without a groan;
Nor did the coming wo change in the least
Her bright complexion. To the bridal room,
And bed, she next advanced, but there she wept,
And said, "O bed, where virgin to his arms

66

I came, for whom I die to-day, farewell!

I hate thee not, though thou hast brought me death; Loth was I to betray my lord and thee.

Thee will another after me possess,

Not chaster, but perchance more fortunate."
Then on the bed she flung herself, and kissed it,
And from her eyes let fall a flood of tears;
At last she rose and turned to leave the room,
Oft made the attempt, and often she returned,
And cast herself again upon the bed.

Her children, clinging to her garments, wept;
She took them in her arms, and kissed them both,
First one, then the other, as about to die :
The servants, pitying her, were all in tears;
She gave her hand to all, was spoken to,
And for the meanest had a parting word.
Such wo is working in our master's house!
But had he died, twould have been o'er with him;
Escaping death he has a lifelong grief.

Chor. Surely Admetus groans, with grief opprest, If he must lose so excellent a wife.

Serv. He weeps indeed, sustains her in his arms,
And prays her not to leave him, asking for
What cannot be; for she is going fast,
And visibly droops and sinks, passing away.
She hangs a languid burden on his arm;

Yet still, though faintly gasping out her breath,
She would behold the bright rays of the sun,
As what she never more shall see again,
But for the latest time will look upon

Light's glorious orb. I'll go and say ye are here.
For not all subjects wish well to their lords,
Nor with them grieving truly sympathize;
But to my master ye are friends of old.
Chor. Oh Zeus, can there be any way

Of escaping from this wo to-day?
Or any refuge for our master
From his foreseen and worst disaster?
Our hair must we in sorrow shear,
And the black robes of mourning wear.
Tis plain, tis plain, this grief must be,
But let us, friends, still bend the knee;
The gods, indeed, have mighty power :-
King Pæn! hear us, in this hour
Of his distress thy good-will show,
And save Admetus from his wo.
Find out some help for him-as thou
Hast done before-oh find it now!

Arrest the stroke of Death, and save
The best of women from the grave.
Ah, son of Pheres! joy-forsaken,
Since from thee thy wife is taken-
Sufficient cause to raise the knife,
Or fix the noose, against one's life.
For thou to-day must see lie dead
Thy dear, more dear than can be said.
Behold her with her mate forlorn!
O land of Pheres, cry and mourn
For this best woman downward taken,
To Hades' mansion subterrane.
I'll never say tis my belief

That wedlock's joy exceeds the grief:
This ere to-day twas mine to learn,
And in the king's case I discern,
Who'll lead, when he has lost his wife,
A life-not worth the name of life.

ALCESTIS enters, supported by ADMETUS, and accompanied by their two children.

Alc. O sun! and light, and clouds of Heaven,

In fleecy rolls revolved and driven !

Adm. That sun beholds two wretched creatures here, Who have done nothing wherefore thou shouldst die. Alc. O earth! and palace, and thou bed,

For my espousals whilom spread!

Adm. Cheer up, unhappy consort; leave me not,

But pray the sovereign gods to pity us.

Alc. I see the two-oared boat! I see

The ferryman of all the dead!

With pole in hand, he calls for me—
Tis Charon calls, with accent dread,

And vehemently chides my stay,

"Come quickly, come! why this delay ?"

Adm. Wretch that I am! oh cruelest voyage to me!

My dearest, doomed wife! what wo is ours!

Alc. Some winged Hades pulls me now

Unto the dead! do you not see?

From underneath his sable brow

The King of Terrors glares at me!

What wilt thou do? unhand me! oh!

Loose me! on what a path I go!

Adm. Path dismal to thy friends, and most to me,

And to these children, sharers of my grief.

Alc. Lay me down! I cannot stand;

Hades now is near at hand;

O'er mine eyes the last of sleeps,
The long night of darkness creeps.
Children! now my life is o'er,
And your mother is no more;
May your lives with joy be bright,

May ye long behold the light!

Adm. Ah, woful speech for me to hear,
Harder than any death to bear!
Oh by the gods, and by these ties,
Motherless, when their mother dies,
Forsake me not! arise, dear wife!
While I have thee, I still have life;
Without thy being mine is o'er,
So much I love thee and adore.