Ion

1Ion Come, thou tender laurel-shoot, gathered from gardens divine to wait upon the glorious god, thou that sweepest clean the altar of Phoebus hard by his shrine, where holy founts, that ever gush with ceaseless flow, bedew the myrtle’s hallowed spray wherewith I cleanse the temple-floor the livelong day, so soon as the swift sun-god wings his flight on high, in my daily ministration. Hail Paean, prince of healing! blest, ah! doubly blest be thou, child of Latona!

1Ion Fair the service that I render to thee, Phoebus, before thy house, honouring thy seat of prophecy; a glorious task I count it, to serve not mortal man but deathless gods; wherefore I never weary of performing holy services. Phoebus is to me as the father that begot me, for as such I praise the god that gives me food. Whom I call by that helpful name of father, Tis Phoebus, who dwelleth in the temple, Hail Paean, healing god, good luck to thee and blessing, child of Latona!

1(First) Chorus It is not in holy Athens only that there are courts of the gods with fine colonnades, and the worship of Apollo, guardian of highways; but here, too, at the shrine of Loxias, son of Latona, shines the lovely eye of day on faces twain. (Second) Chorus Just look at this! here is the son of Zeus killing with his scimitar of gold the watersnake of Lerna. Do look at him, my friend!

1(First) Chorus Yes, I see. And close to him stands another with a blazing torch uplifted; who is he? Can this be the warrior Iolaus whose story is told on my broidery, who shares with the son of Zeus his labours and helps him in the moil? (Third) Chorus Oh! but look at this! a man mounted on a winged horse, killing a fire-breathing monster with three bodies.

2(First) Chorus I am turning my eyes in every direction. Behold the rout of the giants carved on these walls of stone. (Fourth) Chorus Yes, yes, good friends, I am looking. (Fifth) Chorus Dost see her standing over Enceladus brandishing her shield with the Gorgon’s head? (Sixth) Chorus I see Pallas, my own goddess. (Seventh) Chorus Again, dost see the massy thunderbolt all aflame in the far-darting hands of Zeus? (Eighth) Chorus I do;’tis blasting with its flame Mimas, that deadly foe. (Ninth) Chorus Bromius too, the god of revelry, is slaying another of the sons of Earth with his thyrsus of ivy, never meant for battle.

2(First) Chorus Thou that art stationed by this fane, to thee I do address me, may we pass the threshold of these vaults, with our fair white feet? Ion Nay, ye must not, stranger ladies. (Tenth) Chorus May I ask thee about something I have heard? Ion What wouldst thou ask? (Eleventh) Chorus Is it really true that the temple of Phoebus stands upon the centre of the world? Ion Aye, there it stands with garlands decked and gorgeous all around. (Twelfth) Chorus E'en so the legend saith. Ion If ye have offered a sacrificial cake before the shrine and have aught ye wish to ask Phoebus, approach the altar; but enter not the inmost sanctuary, save ye have sacrificed sheep. (Thirteenth) Chorus I understand; but we have ho mind to trespass against the god’s law; the pictures here without will amuse us. Ion Feast your eyes on all ye may. (Fourteenth) Chorus My mistress gave me leave to see these vaulted chambers. Ion Whose handmaids do ye avow yourselves? (Fifteenth) Chorus The temple, where Pallas dwells, is the nursing-home of my lords. But lo! here is she of whom thou askest.

1Chorus On thee I call, Athena mine, at whose birth-throes no kindly goddess lent her aid, delivered as thou wert by Titan Prometheus from the forehead of Zeus. Come, O lady Victory, come to the Pythian shrine, winging thy way from the gilded chambers of Olympus to the city’s streets, where Phoebus at his altar on the centre of the world brings his oracles to pass beside the dance-encircled tripod; come, too, thou daughter of Latona, together come, ye virgin goddesses, fair sisters of Phoebus! And be this your prayer, fair maidens, that the ancient house of Erechtheus may obtain by clear oracles the blessing of children, though late it come.

1Chorus For this brings to man a settled source of all-surpassing bliss, even to such as see in their ancestral halls a splendid race of strong young parents blest with offspring, to inherit from their sires their wealth in due succession after other children; yea, for they are a defence in time of trouble, and add a charm to weal, affording to their fatherland a saving help in battle. Give me before the pomp of wealth or royal marriages the careful nurture of noble children. The childless life I do abhor, and him who thinks it good I blame; to a happy life amongst my children, blest with moderate wealth, may I hold fast.

1Chorus Weeping and lamentation and the beginning of mourning I foresee, when my mistress shall see her lord blest with a son, while she is childless and forlorn. What was this oracle thou didst vouchsafe, prophetic son of Latona? Whence came this boy, thy foster-child who lingers in thy temple? who was his mother? I like not thy oracle; I fear there is some treachery. In terror I await the issue of this chance; for strange are these tidings and strange it is that the god declares them to me. There is guile connected with this waif’s fortune. All must allow that.

1Chorus Shall we, good friends, throw off disguise and tell our mistress this story about her husband in whom her all was centred and whose hopes, poor lady, she once shared? But now in misery is she plunged, while he enjoys the smiles of fortune; to hoary eld she drifteth fast, while he, her lord, pays no regard to his loved ones,—the wretch, who came an alien to her house to share great wealth and failed to guard her fortunes! Perdition catch this traitor to my lady! never may he succeed in offering to the gods upon their blazing altar a hallowed cake with flames that augur well! He shall know to his cost my regard for my mistress. Now are sire and new-found son bent on the approaching feast.

1Chorus Daughter of Demeter, goddess of highways, queen as thou art of haunting powers of darkness, oh! guide as well the hand that fills by day a cup of death, against those to whom my revered mistress is sending a philtre of the gore that dripped from hellish Gorgon’s severed head, yea,’gainst him who would obtrude upon the halls of the Erechthidae. Never may alien, from alien stock, lord it o’er my city, no! none save noble Erechtheus’ sons!

1Chorus For if this deadly deed and my lady’s aims pass unfulfilled, and the right moment for her daring go by, and with it the hope which now sustains her, either will she seize the whetted knife or fasten the noose about her neck, and by ending one sorrow by another will go down to other phases of existence. For never will that daughter of a noble line, while life is hers, endure within the sunshine of her eyes the sight of alien rulers in her halls.

2Chorus I blush for that god of song, if this stranger is to witness the torch-dance, that heralds in the twentieth dawn, around Callichorus’ fair springs, a sleepless votary in midnight revels, what time the star-lit firmament of Zeus, the moon, and Nereus’ fifty daughters, that trip it lightly o’er the sea and the eternal rivers’ tides, join the dance in honour of the maiden with the crown of gold and her majestic mother; where this vagabond, by Phoebus favoured, thinks to reign, entering into other men’s hard toil.

2Chorus Look to it, all ye bards, who, in malicious strains, expose our amours and unholy bonds of lawless love; see how far our virtue surpasses man’s disloyalty. Change the burden of your song and keep your spiteful verse to brand man’s faithlessness. For this scion of the stock of Zeus shows himself a heedless wight, denying to the mistress of his halls the lot of mutual offspring, and, paying all his court to some strange love, hath gotten him a bastard son.