Book of illustrations : Ancient Tragedy

His friends, his father, e'en the aged dame {19}
That gave him birth were asked in vain: not one
Was found, his wife except.

The dreadful day has come, and Alcestis is at this moment breathing her last in the arms of her husband: and he himself must leave his loved friend, for Deity may not abide in the neighborhood of death's pollution. {27}

Suddenly, the hideous Phantom of Death becomes visible, ascending the Steps of the Dead [from below the Orchestra on to the Stage]: his pace never flags, yet he cowers, like all things of darkness, before the Bow of Apollo.

Death reproaches Apollo with haunting the dwellings of mortals, and with seeking by that Bow of his to defraud the Infernal Powers of their due. Apollo defends himself: he is but visiting friends he loves: he has no thought of using force. But would he could persuade Death to choose his victims according to the law of nature, and slay ripe lingering age instead of youth!

Death. Greater my glory when the youthful die! {58}

Apollo appeals to self-interest: more sumptuous obsequies await the aged dead. – That, answers Death, were to make laws in favor of the rich. —Apollo condescends to ask mercy for his friend as a favor; but favors, Death sneers, are not in keeping with his manners; and taunts Apollo with his helplessness to resist fate. The taunt rouses Apollo to a flash of prophecy (which is one of his attributes), giving (as the Greek stage loved to do) a glimpse into the end of the story.

Apollo. Yet, ruthless as thou art, soon wilt thou cease {67}
This contest; such a man to Pherae's house
Comes… He, in this house
A welcome guest to Admetus, will by force
Take his wife from thee; and no thanks from me
Will be thy due; yet what I now entreat
Then thou wilt yield, and I shall hate thee still.

Apollo moves away and disappears in the distance [by Left Side-door], while Death, hurling defiance after him, waves his fatal sword and crosses the threshold. {81}

PARODE, OR CHORUS-ENTRY

Enter the Orchestra [by the Right Archway, as from the neighborhood] the Chorus: Old Men of Pherae, come to enquire how it is with the Queen on the morning of this appointed day of her death. As usual in such Chorus-Entries their chanting is accompanied with music and gesture-dance to a rhythm traditionally associated with marching. But by a very unusual effect they enter in disordered ranks, moving in two loosely-formed bodies towards the Central Altar. {82}

1st Semichorus. What a silence encloses the Palace!
What a hush in the house of Admetus!
2nd Semichorus. Not a soul is at hand of the household
To answer our friendly enquiry —
Is it over, all over but weeping?
Or sees she the light awhile longer,
Our Queen, brightest pattern of women
The wide world through,
Most devoted of wives, our Alcestis?

Arriving at the Altar they fall for a time into compact order, and exchange their marching rhythm for the elaborate Choral ritual, the evolutions taking them to the Right of the Orchestra. {89}

Strophe

Full Chorus. Listen for the heavy groan,
Smitten breast and piercing moan,
Ringing out that life is gone.
The house forgets its royal state,
And not a slave attends the gate.
Our sea of woe runs high: – ah, mid the waves
Appear, Great Healer, Apollo!

They break again into loose order and marching rhythm, remaining on the Right of the Orchestra.

1st Semi. Were she dead, could they keep such a silence? {94}
2nd Semi. May it be – she is gone from the Palace?
1st Semi. Never!
2nd Semi. Nay, why so confident answer?
1st Semi. To so precious a corpse could Admetus
Give burial bare of its honours?

They reunite in Choral order and work back to the Altar.

Antistrophe

Full Chorus. Lo, no bath the porch below, {99}
Nor the cleansing fountain's flow,
Gloomy rite for house of woe.
The threshold lacks its locks of hair,
Clipp'd for the dead in death's despair.
Who hears the wailing voice and thud of hands,
The seemly woe of the maidens?

At the Altar they again break up and fall into marching rhythm.

2nd Semi. Yet to-day is the dread day appointed – {105}
1st Semi. Speak not the word!
2nd Semi. The day she must pass into Hades —
1st Semi. I am cut to the heart!
I am cut to the soul!
2nd Semi. When the righteous endure tribulation,
Avails nought long-tried love
Nought is left to the friendly – but mourning!

Accordingly they address themselves to a Full Choral Ode, the evolutions carrying them to the extreme Left of the Orchestra in the Strophe, and in the Antistrophe back to the Altar.

CHORAL INTERLUDE I

Strophe

In vain – our pious vows are vain – {111}
Make we the flying sail our care,
The light bark bounding o'er the main;
To what new realm shall we repair?
To Lycia's hallow'd strand?
Or where in solitary state,
Mid thirsty deserts wild and wide
That close him round on every side,
Prophetic Ammon holds his awful seat?
What charm, what potent hand
Shall save her from the realms beneath?
He comes, the ruthless tyrant Death: