Stasimon 3
[Episode]
and drive us from Erechtheus’ halls. And this I say not from any hatred of thy lord but because I bear thee more love than him; for he, after coming as a stranger to thy city and thy home, and wedding thee, and of thy heritage taking full possession,
810
Old Servant
has been detected in a secret marriage with another woman, by whom he hath children. His secret will I now disclose; when he found thee barren, he was not content to share with thee thy hard lot, but took to himself a slave to be his stealthy paramour
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and thus begat a son, whom he sent abroad, giving him to some Delphian maid to nurse; and, to escape detection, the child was dedicated to the god and reared in his temple. But when he heard his boy was grown to manhood, he persuaded thee to come hither to inquire about thy childless state.
820
And after this, ’twas not the god that lied, but thy husband, who long had been rearing the child, and he it was that wove this tissue of falsehood, intending, if he were detected, to refer it to the god, whereas if he escaped exposure, to repel all odium, he meant to vest the sovereignty in this son of his.
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Likewise he devised anew his name, coined to suit the circumstances, Ion, because, as he asserts, he met him on his way.
830
Chorus
Ah! how I ever hate the wicked
who plot unrighteousness and then cunningly trick it out. Far rather would I have a virtuous friend of no great intellect than a knave of subtler wit.
835
Old Servant
Of all thy wretched fate this will be the crowning sorrow, the bringing to thy house to be its lord some slave-girl’s child, whose mother is unknown, himself of no account. For this evil had been to itself confined,
had he persuaded thee, pleading thy childlessness, to let him establish in the house some high-born mother’s son; or if this had displeased thee, he ought to have sought a daughter of Aeolus in marriage. Wherefore must thou now put thy woman’s wit to work; either take the dagger, or by guile
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or poison slay thy husband and his son, ere they deal out death to thee; since if thou spare him, thou wilt lose thy own life; for when two foes meet beneath one roof, one or the other must rue it.
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Myself too am ready to share this labour with thee, and to help destroy the child when I have made my way into the chamber where he is furnishing the feast, and so repaying my masters for my maintenance I am willing either to die or still behold the light of life. ’Tis but a single thing that brands the slave with shame—
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his name; in all else no upright slave is a whit worse than freeborn men.
855
Chorus
I too, beloved mistress, am ready to share thy fate, be it death or victory.
Creusa
Ah! my suffering soul! how am I to keep silence?
Am I to disclose the secrets of my love and lose all claim to modesty? What is there to keep me back any longer? With whom have I to pit myself in virtue’s lists? Hath not my husband proved untrue?
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Home and children, both are torn from me; all hope is dead; I have not realized my wish to set the matter straight, by hushing up my former union and saying naught about my son of sorrow.
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No! by the starry seat of Zeus, by her whose home is on my rocks, and by the hallowed strand of Triton’s mere with brimming flood, I will no more conceal my love; for if
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I can lift that burden from my breast I shall rest easier. With tears my eyes are streaming and my heart is wrung with anguish for the treacherous counsels both of men and gods,—traitors they! as I will show,
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ungrateful traitors to their loves!
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O! thou who dost awake that tuneful lyre with seven strings till to its sweet note of music the lifeless pegs of wild ox-hom resound again,
thou child of Latona, to yon 293 bright orb of thine will I publish thy reproach. Yes, I saw thee come, the glint of gold upon thy locks, as I was gathering in my folded robe the saffron blooms
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that blazed like flowers of gold; and by my lily wrist didst thou catch me and ledst me to the cavern’s bed, what time I cried aloud upon my mother’s name,—thou a god
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to mate with me in shameless wise to pleasure lady Cypris! Then to my sorrow I bore thee a son, whom, though anguish thrilled my mother’s breast, I cast upon that bed of thine,
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where thou didst join in woful wedlock this unhappy maid. Ah! woe is me! that poor babe I bare thee is now no more; winged fowls have tom and devoured him,
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but thou art gaily carolling unto thy lyre some song of joy.
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Hark! thou son of Latona, to thee I call, for that thou dispensest warnings; there at thy golden throne
on earth’s centre planted will I proclaim a word into thy ear. O! thou wicked bridegroom who art bringing to my husband’s house an heir, though from him thou hast received no boon;
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while that child of thine and mine hath died unrecognized, a prey to carrion birds, his mother’s swaddling-clothes all lost. Delos hates thee now, thy bay-tree loves thee not,
whose branches sprout beside the tufted palm, where in holy throes Latona, big with child by Zeus, gave birth to thee.
920
Chorus
Ah me! what store of sorrows is here disclosed, enough to draw a tear from every eye!
