: Aeschylus
: The Seven Plays of Aeschylus
: Seltzer Books
: 9781455393107
: 1
: CHF 0.70
:
: Dramatik
: English
: 503
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
This file includes: AGAMEMNON, THE LIBATION-BEARERS, THE FURIES, THE SUPPLIANT MAIDENS, THE PERSIANS, THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, and THE PROMETHEUS BOUND; all translated by E.D.A. MORSHEAD. According to Wikipedia: 'Aeschylus ( c. 525 BC/524 BC - c. 456 BC/455 BC) was an ancient Greek playwright. He is often recognized as the father of tragedy, and is the earliest of the three Greek tragedians whose plays survive, the others being Sophocles and Euripides. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in plays to allow for conflict among them; previously, characters interacted only with the chorus. Only seven of an estimated seventy to ninety plays by Aeschylus have survived into modern times; one of these plays, Prometheus Bound, is widely thought to be the work of a later author. At least one of Aeschylus' works was influenced by the Persian invasion of Greece, which took place during his lifetime. His play The Persians remains a good primary source of information about this period in Greek history. The war was so important to the Greeks and to Aeschylus himself that, upon his death around 456 BC, his epitaph commemorated his participation in the Greek victory at Marathon rather than to his success as a playwright.'

THE LIBATION-BEARERS


 

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

 

ORESTES

CHORUS OF CAPTIVE WOMEN

ELECTRA

A NURSE

CLYTEMNESTRA

AEGISTHUS

AN ATTENDANT

PYLADES

 

The Scene is the Tomb of Agamemnon at Mycenae; afterwards, the Palace of Atreus, hard by the Tomb.

 

Orestes

 

 

Lord of the shades and patron of the realm

That erst my father swayed, list now my prayer,

Hermes, and save me with thine aiding arm,

Me who from banishment returning stand

On this my country; lo, my foot is set

On this grave-mound, and herald-like, as thou,

Once and again, I bid my father hear.

And these twin locks, from mine head shorn, I bring,

And one to Inachus the river-god,

My young life's nurturer, I dedicate,

And one in sign of mourning unfulfilled

I lay, though late, on this my father's grave.

For O my father, not beside thy corse

Stood I to wail thy death, nor was my hand

Stretched out to bear thee forth to burial.

 

What sight is yonder? what this woman-throng

Hitherward coming, by their sable garb

Made manifest as mourners?   What hath chanced?

Doth some new sorrow hap within the home?

Or rightly may I deem that they draw near

Bearing libations, such as soothe the ire

Of dead men angered, to my father's grave?

Nay, such they are indeed; for I descry

Electra mine own sister pacing hither,

In moody grief conspicuous. Grant, O Zeus,

Grant me my father's murder to avenge--

Be thou my willing champion!

                              Pylades,

Pass we aside, till rightly I discern

Wherefore these women throng in suppliance.

 

[Exeunt Pylades and Orestes; enter the Chorus bearing vessels for

libation; Electra follows them; they pace slowly towards the tomb of

Agamemnon.

 

CHORUS

 

Forth from the royal halls by high command

  I bear libations for the dead.

Rings on my smitten breast my smiting hand,

  And all my cheek is rent and red,

Fresh-furrowed by my nails, and all my soul

This many a day doth feed on cries of dole.

  And trailing tatters of my vest,

In looped and windowed raggedness forlorn,

  Hang rent around my breast,

Even as I, by blows of Fate most stern

  Saddened and torn.

 

  Oracular thro' visions, ghastly clear,

Bearing a blast of wrath from realms below,

And stiffening each rising hair with dread,

  Came out of dream-land Fear,