That to ripe manhood from his infant hour
Hath in thy hallow'd courts been plac'd,
And nurtur'd at thy shrine ?
Thy dark reply delights not me;
Lurking beneath close fraud I see:
Where will this end? I fear, I fear-
'Tis strange, and strange events must hence ensue :
But grateful sounds it to his ear.
The youth, that in another's state
(Who sees not that my words are true?)
Enjoys the fraud, and triumphs in his fate.
Say, sisters, say, with duteous zeal
Shall we this secret to our queen reveal?
She to her royal lord resign'd,
With equal hope, with equal care,
Form'd her his joys, his griefs to share,
And gave him all her willing mind.
But joys are his alone;
Whilst she, poor mourner, with a weight of woes,
To hoary age advancing, bends;
He the bright smile of prosp'rous fortune knows.
E'en thus, unhonour'd by his friends,
Plac'd on another's throne
Mischance and ruin on him wait,
Who fails to guard its happy state.
Him may mischance and ruin seize,
Who round my lov'd queen spreads his wily trains :
No god may his oblation please,
No favouring flame to him ascend!
To her my faith, my zeal remains,
Known to her ancient royal house a friend.
EPOD. Now the new father and the new-found son
The festive table haste to spread,
Where to the skies Parnassus lifts his head,
And deep beneath the hanging stone
Forms in its rudely-rifted side
A cavern wild and wide:
Where Bacchus, shaking high his midnight flames,
In many a light fantastic round
Dances o'er the craggy ground,
And revels with his frentic dames.
Ne'er to my city let him come,
This youth; no, rather let him die,
And sink into an early tomb!
With an indignant eye
Athens would view the stranger's pride
Within her gates triumphant ride;
Enough for her the honour'd race that springs
From old Erectheus and her line of kings.
CREUSA, TUTOR, CHORUS. CREU. Thou venerable man, whose guiding voice My father, whilst he liv'd, rever'd, advance Up to th' oracular seat thy aged steps; That, if the royal Phoebus should pronounce Promise of offspring, thou with me may'st share The joy; for pleasing is it when with friends Good fortune we receive: if aught of ill, Avert it heav'n! befalls, a friend's kind eye Beams comfort; thee, as once thou didst revere My father, though thy queen I now revere. In thee, my child, the nobleness of manners, Which grac'd thy royal ancestors, yet lives; Thou never wilt disgrace thy high-born lineage. Lead me then, lead me to the shrine, support me, High is th' oracular seat, and steep th'ascent; Be thou assistant to the foot of age.
CREU. Follow; be heedful where thou set thy steps.
TUT. I am: my foot is slow, my heart hath wings.
CREU. Fix thy staff firm on this loose-rolling ground.
TUT. That hath no eyes; and dim indeed my sight.
CREU. Well hast thou said: on cheerful then, and faint not.
TUT. I have the will, but o'er constraint no pow'r.
CREU. Ye females on my richly-broider'd works
Faithful attendants, say, respecting children
For which we came, what fortune hath my lord
Borne hence? If good, declare it; you shall find
That to no thankless masters you give joy.
But why distress me for the oracle
Giv'n to our lords! Be that as fate requires.
In things, which threaten death, what shall we do?
CREU. What means this strain of woe? Whence are these fears?
CHOR. What, shall we speak, or bury this in silence?
CREU. Speak, though thy words bring wretchedness to me.
CHOR. It shall be spoken, were I twice to die.
To thee, my queen, it is not giv'n to clasp
In thy fond arms a child, or at thy breast
To hold it.
O my child, would I were dead!
CREU. Yes, this is wretchedness indeed, a grief
That makes life joyless.
CREU. Unhappy me! this is a piercing grief,
That rends my heart with anguish.
Await our lord, partaker of thy griefs,
Or thou alone art thus unfortunate.
CHOR. To him, old man, the god hath giv'n a son,
And happiness is his unknown to her.
CREU. To ill this adds the deepest ill, a grief
For me to mourn.
Born of some other woman
Is this child yet to come, or did the god
Declare one now in being?
To manhood's prime he gave him: I was present.
CREU. What hast thou said? Thy words denounce to me Sorrows past speech, past utterance.
And to me. CREU. How was this oracle accomplish'd? Tell me With clearest circumstance: who is this youth? CHOR. Him as a son Apollo gave, whom first
Departing from the god thy lord should meet. CREU. O my unhappy fate! I then am left
Childless to pass my life, childless, alone,
Amidst my lonely house. Who was declared? Whom did the husband of this wretch first meet? How meet him? Where behold him? Tell me all. CHOR. Dost thou, my honour'd mistress, call to mind The youth that swept the temple? This is he. CREU. O, through the liquid air that I could fly
Far, from the land of Greece, e'en to the stars
Fix'd in the western sky! Ah me, what grief,
What piercing grief is mine!
Say by what name
Did he address his son, if thou hast heard it;
Or does it rest in silence, yet unknown?
CHOR. Ion: for that he first advanc'd to meet him.
And of what mother?
That I could not learn:
Abrupt was his departure (to inform thee
Of all I know, old man) to sacrifice
With hospitable rites, a birth-day feast,
And in the hallow'd cave, from her apart,
With his new son to share the common banquet.
Lady, we by thy husband are betray'd,
For I with thee am griev'd, with contrived fraud
Insulted, from thy father's house cast forth:
I speak not this in hatred to thy lord,
But that I love thee more; a stranger he
Came to the city and thy royal house,
And wedded thee, all thy inheritance
Receiving by some other woman now
Discover'd to have children privately:
How privately, I'll tell thee; when he saw
Thou hadst no child, it pleas'd him not to bear
A fate like thine; but by some favourite slave,
His paramour by stealth, he hath a son.
Him to some Delphian gave he, distant far
To educate; who to this sacred house
Consign'd, as secret here, receiv'd his nurture.
He knowing this, and that his son advanc'd
To manhood, urg'd thee to attend him hither,
Pleading thy childless state. Nor hath the god
Deceiv'd thee; he deceiv'd thee, and long since
Contriv'd this wily plan to rear his son.
That, if convicted, he might charge the god,
Himself excusing: should the fraud succeed,
He would observe the times when he might safely
Consign to him the empire of thy land.
And this new name was at his leisure form'd,
Ion, for that he came by chance to meet him.
I hate those ill-designing men, that form
Plans of injustice, and then gild them over
With artificial ornament: to me
Far dearer is the honest simple friend,
Than one, whose quicker wit is train❜d to ill.
And to complete this fraud, thou shalt be urg'd
To take into thy house, to lord it there,
This low-born youth, this offspring of a slave.
Though ill, it had been open, had he pleaded
Thy want of children, and, thy leave obtain❜d,
Brought to thy house a son that could have boasted
His mother noble, or, if that displeas'd thee,
He might have sought a wife from Æolus.
Behoves thee then to act a woman's part,
Or grasp the sword, or drug the poison'd bowl,
Or plan some deep design to kill thy husband,
And this his son, before thou find thy death
From them: if thou delay, thy life is lost.
For when beneath one roof two foes are met,
The one must perish. I with ready zeal
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