Sacred-texts  Classics  Euripides

 By Euripides
 Translated by Robert Potter
 Dramatis Personae
 CREUSA, daughter of Erechtheus
 XUTHUS, husband of CREUSA
 Before the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. The sun is about to rise. MERCURY
 MERCURY Atlas, that on his brazen shoulders rolls 
 Yon heaven, the ancient mansion of the gods, 
 Was by a goddess sire to Maia; she 
 To supreme Jove bore me, and call'd me Hermes; 
 Attendant on the king, his high behests 
 I execute. To Delphi am I come, 
 This land where Phoebus from his central throne 
 Utters to mortals his high strain, declaring 
 The present and the future; this is the cause; 
 Greece hath a city of distinguish'd glory, 
 Which from the goddess of the golden lance 
 Received its name; Erechtheus was its king; 
 His daughter, call'd Creusa, to the embrace 
 Of nuptial love Apollo strain'd perforce, 
 Where northward points the rock beneath the heights 
 Crown'd with the Athenian citadel of Pallas, 
 Call'd Macrai by the lords of Attica. 
 Her growing burden, to her sire unknown 
 (Such was the pleasure of the god,) she bore, 
 Till in her secret chamber to a son 
 The rolling months gave birth: to the same cave, 
 Where by the enamour'd god she was compress'd, 
 Creusa bore the infant: there for death 
 Exposed him in a well-compacted ark 
 Of circular form, observant of the customs 
 Drawn from her great progenitors, and chief 
 From Erichthonius, who from the Attic earth 
 Deriv'd his origin: to him as guards 
 Minerva gave two dragons, and in charge 
 Consign'd him to the daughters of Aglauros: 
 This rite to the Erechthidae hence remains, 
 Mid serpents wreathed in ductile gold to nurse 
 Their children. What of ornament she had 
 She hung around her son, and left him thus 
 To perish. But to me his earnest prayer 
 Phoebus applied, "To the high-lineaged sons 
 Of glorious Athens go, my brother; well 
 Thou know'st the city of Pallas; from the cave 
 Deep in the hollow rock a new-born babe, 
 Laid as he is, and all his vestments with him; 
 Bring to thy brother to my shrine, and place 
 At the entrance of my temple; of the rest 
 (For, know, the child is mine) I will take care." 
 To gratify my brother thence I bore 
 The osier-woven ark, and placed the boy 
 Here at the temple's base, the wreathed lid 
 Uncovering, that the infant might be seen. 
 It chanced, as the orient sun the steep of heav'n 
 Ascended, to the god's oracular seat 
 The priestess entering, on the infant cast 
 Her eye, and marvelled, deeming that some nymph 
 Of Delphi at the fane had dared to lay 
 The secret burden of her womb: this thought 
 Prompts her to move it from the shrine: but soon 
 To pity she resign'd the harsh intent; 
 The impulse of the god secretly acting 
 In favour of the child, that in his temple 
 It might abide; her gentle hand then took it, 
 And gave it nurture; yet conceived she not 
 That Phoebus was the sire, nor who the mother 
 Knew aught, nor of his parents could the child 
 Give information. All his youthful years 
 Sportive he wandered round the shrine, and there 
 Was fed: but when his firmer age advanced 
 To manhood, o'er the treasures of the god 
 The Delphians placed him, to his faithful care 
 Consigning all; and in this royal dome 
 His hallow'd life he to this hour hath pass'd. 
 Meantime Creusa, mother of the child, 
 To Xuthus was espoused, the occasion this:- 
 On Athens from Euboean Chalcis roll'd 
 The waves of war; be join'd their martial toil, 
 And with his spear repell'd the foe; for this 
 To the proud honour of Creusa's bed 
 Advanc'd; no native, in Achaea sprung 
 From Aeolus, the son of Jove. Long time 
 Unbless'd with children, to the oracular shrine 
 Of Phoebus are they come, through fond desire 
 Of progeny: to this the god hath brought 
 The fortune of his son, nor, as was deem'd, 
 Forgets him; but to Xuthus, when he stands 
 This sacred seat consulting, will he give 
 That son, declared his offspring; that the child, 
 When to Creusa's house brought back, by her 
 May be agnized; the bridal rites of Phoebus 
 Kept secret, that the youth may claim the state 
 Due to his birth, through all the states of Greece 
 Named Ion, founder of the colonies 
 On the Asiatic coast. The laurell'd cave 
 Now will I visit, there to learn what fortune 
 Is to the boy appointed, for I see 
 This son of Phoebus issuing forth to adorn 
 The gates before the shrine with laurel boughs. 
 First of the gods I hail him by the name 
 Of Ion, which his fortune soon will give him.  (MERCURY vanishes.
 ION and the attendants of the temple enter.)  
 ION  (chanting) Now flames this radiant chariot of the sun
 High o'er the earth, at whose ethereal fire 
 The stars into the sacred night retreat: 
 O'er the Parnassian cliffs the ascending wheels 
 To mortals roll the beams of day; the wreaths 
 Of incense-breathing myrrh mount to the roof 
 Of Phoebus' fane; the Delphic priestess now 
 Assumes her seat, and from the hallow'd tripod 
 Pronounces to the Greeks the oracular strains 
 Which the god dictates. Haste, ye Delphic train, 
 Haste to Castalia's silver-streaming fount; 
 Bathed in its chaste dews to the temple go; 
 There from your guarded mouths no sound be heard 
 But of good omen, that to those who crave 
 Admission to the oracle, your voice 
 May with auspicious words expound the answers. 
 My task, which from my early infancy 
 Hath been my charge, shall be with laurel boughs 
 And sacred wreaths to cleanse the vestibule 
 Of Phoebus, on the pavement moistening dews 
 To rain, and with my bow to chase the birds 
 Which would defile the hallow'd ornaments. 
 A mother's fondness, and a father's care 
 I never knew: the temple of the god 
 Claims then my service, for it nurtured me.  (The attendants leave.
 ION busies himself before the temple as he continues to sing., strophe)
 Haste, thou verdant new-sprung bough, 
 Haste, thy early office know; 
 Branch of beauteous laurel come, 
 Sweep Apollo's sacred dome, 
 Cropp'd this temple's base beneath, 
 Where the immortal gardens breathe, 
 And eternal dews that round 
 Water the delicious ground, 
 Bathe the myrtle's tresses fair. 
 Lightly thus, with constant care, 
 The pavement of the god I sweep, 
 When over the Parnassian steep 
 Flames the bright sun's mounting ray; 
 This my task each rising day. 
 Son of Latona, Paean, Paean, hail! 
 Never, O never may thy honours fail! 
 Grateful is my task, who wait 
 Serving, Phoebus, at thy gate; 
 Honouring thus thy hallow'd shrine, 
 Honour for the task is mine. 
 Labouring with unwilling hands, 
 Me no mortal man commands: 
 But, immortal gods, to you 
 All my pleasing toil is due. 
 Phoebus is to me a sire; 
 Grateful thoughts my soul inspire; 
 Nurtured by thy bounty here, 
 Thee, Apollo, I revere; 
 As a father's I repeat. 
 Son of Latona, Paean, Paean, hail! 
 Never, O never may thy honours fail! 
 Now from this labour with the laurel bough 
 I cease; and sprinkling from the golden vase 
 The chaste drops which Castalia's fountain rolls, 
 Bedew the pavement. Never may I quit 
 This office to the god; or, if I quit it, 
 Be it, good Fortune, at thy favouring call! 
 But see, the early birds have left their nests, 
 And this way from Parnassus wing their flight. 
 Come not, I charge you, near the battlements, 
 Nor near the golden dome. Herald of Jove, 
 Strong though thy beak beyond the feather'd kind, 
 My bow shall reach thee. Towards the altar, see, 
 A swan comes sailing: elsewhere wilt thou move 
 Thy scarlet-tinctured foot? or from my bow 
 The lyre of Phoebus to thy notes attuned 
 Will not protect thee; farther stretch thy wings; 
 Go, wanton, skim along the Delian lake, 
 Or wilt thou steep thy melody in blood. 
 Look, what strange bird comes onwards; wouldst thou fix 
 Beneath the battlements thy straw-built nest? 
 My singing bow shall drive thee hence; begone, 
 Or to the banks of Alpheus, gulfy stream, 
 Or to the Isthmian grove; there hatch thy young; 
 Mar not these pendent ornaments, nor soil 
 The temple of the god: I would not kill you: 
 'Twere pity, for to mortal man you bear 
 The message of the gods; yet my due task 
 Must be perform'd, and never will I cease 
 My service to the god who nurtured me.  (The CHORUS enters. The following
 lines between ION and the CHORUS are chanted responsively as they
 gaze admiringly at the decorations on the temple.)  
 CHORUS The stately column, and the gorgeous dome 
 Raised to the gods, are not the boast alone 
 Of our magnificent Athens; nor the statues 
 That grace her streets; this temple of the god, 
 Son of Latona, beauteous to behold, 
 Beams the resplendent light of both her children. 
 ION Turn thine eyes this way; look, the son of Jove 
 Lops with his golden scimitar the heads 
 Of the Lernean Hydra: view it well. 
 CHORUS I see him. 
 ION And this other standing nigh, 
 Who snatches from the fire the blazing brand. 
 CHORUS What is his name? the subject, on the web 
 Design'd, these hands have wrought in ductile gold. 
 ION The shield-supporting Iolaus, who bears 
 The toils in common with the son of Jove. 
 View now this hero; on his winged steed 
 The triple-bodied monster's dreadful force 
 He conquers through the flames his jaws emit. 
 CHORUS I view it all attentively. 
 ION Observe 
 The battle of the giants, on the walls 
 Sculptured in stone. 
 CHORUS Let us note this, my friends. 
 ION See where against Enceladus she shakes 
 Her gorgon shield. 
 CHORUS I see my goddess, Pallas. 
 ION Mark the tempestuous thunder's flaming bolt 
 Launch'd by the hand of Jove. 
 CHORUS The furious Mimas 
 Here blazes in the volley'd fires: and there 
 Another earth-born monster falls beneath 
 The wand of Bacchus wreathed with ivy round, 
 No martial spear. But, as 'tis thine to tend 
 This temple, let me ask thee, is it lawful, 
 Leaving our sandals, its interior parts 
 To visit? 
 ION Strangers, this is not permitted. 
 CHORUS Yet may we make inquiries of thee? 
 ION Speak; 
 What wouldst thou know? 
 CHORUS Whether this temple's site 
 Be the earth's centre? 
 ION Ay, with garlands hung, 
 And gorgons all around. 
 CHORUS So fame reports. 
 ION If at the gate the honey'd cake be offer'd, 
 Would you consult the oracle, advance 
 To the altar: till the hallow'd lamb has bled 
 In sacrifice, approach not the recess. 
 CHORUS I am instructed: what the god appoints 
 As laws, we wish not to transgress: without 
 Enough of ornament delights our eyes. 
 ION Take a full view of all; that is allow'd. 
 CHORUS To view the inmost shrine was our lord's order. 
 ION Who are you call'd? Attendants on what house? 
 CHORUS Our lords inhabit the magnific domes 
 Of Pallas.-But she comes, of whom thou askest.  (CREUSA and attendants
 ION Lady, whoe'er thou art, that liberal air 
 Speaks an exalted mind: there is a grace, 
 A dignity in those of noble birth, 
 That marks their high rank. Yet I marvel much 
 That from thy closed lids the trickling tear 
 Water'd thy beauteous cheeks, soon as thine eye 
 Beheld this chaste oracular seat of Phoebus. 
 What brings this sorrow, lady? All besides, 
 Viewing the temple of the god, are struck 
 With joy; thy melting eye o'erflows with tears. 
 CREUSA Not without reason, stranger, art thou seized 
 With wonder at my tears: this sacred dome 
 Awakes the sad remembrance of things past. 
 I had my mind at home, though present here. 
 How wretched is our sex! And, O ye gods, 
 What deeds are yours! Where may we hope for right, 
 If by the injustice of your power undone? 
 ION Why, lady, this inexplicable grief? 
 CREUSA It matters not; my mind resumes its firmless: 
 I say no more; cease thy concern for me. 
 ION But say, who art thou? whence? what country boasts 
 Thy birth? and by what name may we address thee? 
 CREUSA Creusa is my name, drawn from Erechtheus 
 My high-born lineage; Athens gave me birth. 
 Illustrious is thy state; thy ancestry 
 So noble that I look with reverence on thee. 
 CREUSA Happy indeed is this, in nothing farther. 
 ION But tell me, is it true what fame has blazon'd? 
 CREUSA What wouldst thou ask? Stranger, I wish to know.
 ION Sprung the first author of thy line from the earth?
 CREUSA Ay, Erichthonius; but my race avails not. 
 ION And did Minerva raise him from the earth? 
 CREUSA Held in her virgin hands: she bore him not. 
 ION And gave him as the picture represents? 
 CREUSA Daughters of Cecrops these, charged not to see him.
 ION The virgins ope'd the interdicted chest? 
 CREUSA And died, distaining with their blood the rock. 
 ION But tell me, is this truth, or a vain rumour? 
 CREUSA What wouldst thou ask? I am not scant of time. 
 ION Thy sisters did Erechtheus sacrifice? 
 CREUSA He slew the virgins, victims for their country. 
 ION And thou of all thy sisters saved alone? 
 CREUSA I was an infant in my mother's arms. 
 ION And did the yawning earth swallow thy father? 
 CREUSA By Neptune's trident smote; and so he perish'd. 
 ION And Macrai call you not the fatal place? 
 CREUSA Why dost thou ask? What thoughts hast thou recall'd?,
 ION Does Phoebus, do his lightnings honour it? 
 CREUSA Honour! Why this? Would I had never seen it! 
 ION Why? Dost thou hate the place dear to the god? 
 CREUSA No: but for some base deed done in the cave. 
 ION But what Athenian, lady, wedded thee? 
 CREUSA Of Athens none, but one of foreign birth. 
 ION What is his name? Noble he needs must be. 
 CREUSA Xuthus, by Aeolus derived from Jove. 
 ION How weds a stranger an Athenian born? 
 CREUSA Euboea is a state neighbouring on Athens. 
 ION A narrow sea flows, I have heard, between. 
 CREUSA Joining the Athenian arms, that state he wasted.
 ION Confederate in the war, thence wedded thee? 
 CREUSA The dowral meed of war, earn'd by his spear. 
 ION Comest thou with him to Delphi, or alone? 
 CREUSA With him, gone now to the Trophonian shrine. 
 ION To view it, or consult the oracle? 
 CREUSA Both that and this, anxious for one response. 
 ION For the earth's fruits consult you, or for children?
 CREUSA Though wedded long, yet childless is our bed. 
 ION Hast thou ne'er borne a child, that thou hast none?
 CREUSA My state devoid of children Phoebus knows. 
 ION Bless'd in all else, luckless in this alone. 
 CREUSA But who art thou? Bless'd I pronounce thy mother.
 ION Call'd as I am the servant of the god. 
 CREUSA Presented by some state, or sold to this? 
 ION I know not aught save this, I am the god's. 
 CREUSA And in my turn, stranger, I pity thee. 
 ION As knowing not my mother, or my lineage. 
 CREUSA Hast thou thy dwelling here, or in some house? 
 ION The temple is my house, ev'n when I sleep. 
 CREUSA A child brought hither, or in riper years? 
 ION An infant, as they say, who seem to know. 
 CREUSA What Delphian dame sustain'd thee at her breast?
 ION I never knew a breast. She nourish'd me. 
 CREUSA Who, hapless youth? Diseased, I find disease. 
 ION The priestess: as a mother I esteem her. 
 CREUSA Who to these manly years gave thee support? 
 ION The altars, and the still-succeeding strangers. 
 CREUSA Wretched, whoe'er she be, is she that bore thee.
 ION I to some woman am perchance a shame. 
 CREUSA Are riches thine? Thou art well habited. 
 ION Graced with these vestments by the god I serve. 
 CREUSA Hast thou made no attempt to trace thy birth? 
 ION I have no token, lady, for a proof. 
 CREUSA Ah, like thy mother doth another suffer. 
 ION Who? tell me: shouldst thou help me, what a joy 
 CREUSA One for whose sake I come before my husband. 
 ION Say for what end, that I may serve thee, lady. 
 CREUSA To ask a secret answer of the god. 
 ION Speak it: my service shall procure the rest. 
 CREUSA Hear then the tale: but Modesty restrains me. 
 ION Ah, let her not; her power avails not here. 
 CREUSA My friend then says that to the embrace of Phoebus-
 ION A woman and a god! Say not so, stranger. 
 CREUSA She bore a son: her father knew it not. 
 ION Not so: a mortal's baseness he disdains. 
 CREUSA This she affirms; and this, poor wretch, she suffer'd.
 ION What follow'd, if she knew the god's embrace? 
 CREUSA The child, which hence had birth, she straight exposed.
 ION This exposed child, where is he? doth he live? 
 CREUSA This no one knows; this wish I to inquire. 
 ION If not alive, how probably destroyed? 
 CREUSA Torn, she conjectures, by some beast of prey. 
 ION What ground hath she on which to build that thought?
 CREUSA Returning to the place she found him not. 
 ION Observed she drops of blood distain the path? 
 CREUSA None, though with anxious heed she search'd around.
 ION What time hath pass'd since thus the child was lost?
 CREUSA Were he alive, his youth were such as thine. 
 ION The god hath done him wrong: the unhappy mother- 
 CREUSA Hath not to any child been mother since. 
 ION What if in secret Phoebus nurtures him! 
 CREUSA Unjust to enjoy alone a common right. 
 ION Ah me! this cruel fate accords with mine. 
 CREUSA For thee too thy unhappy mother mourns. 
 ION Ah, melt me not to griefs I would forget! 
 CREUSA I will be silent: but impart thy aid. 
 ION Seest thou what most the inquiry will suppress? 
 CREUSA And to my wretched friend what is not ill? 
 ION How shall the god what he would hide reveal? 
 CREUSA As placed on the oracular seat of Greece. 
 ION The deed must cause him shame: convict him not. 
 CREUSA To the poor sufferer 'tis the cause of grief. 
 ION It cannot be; for who shall dare to give 
 The oracle? With justice would the god, 
 In his own dome affronted, pour on him 
 Severest vengeance, who should answer thee. 
 Desist then, lady: it becomes us ill, 
 In opposition to the god, to make 
 Inquiries at his shrine; by sacrifice 
 Before their altars, or the flight of birds, 
 Should we attempt to force the unwilling gods 
 To utter what they wish not, 'twere the excess 
 Of rudeness; what with violence we urge 
 'Gainst their consent would to no good avail us: 
 What their spontaneous grace confers on us, 
 That, lady, as a blessing we esteem. 
 LEADER OF THE CHORUS How numberless the ills to mortal man,
 And various in their form! One single blessing 
 By any one through life is scarcely found. 
 CREUSA Nor here, nor there, O Phoebus, art thou just 
 To her; though absent, yet her words are present. 
 Nor didst thou save thy son, whom it became thee 
 To save; nor, though a prophet, wilt thou speak 
 To the sad mother who inquires of thee; 
 That, if he is no more, to him a tomb 
 May rise; but, if he lives, that he may bless 
 His mother's eyes. But even thus behooves us 
 To omit these things, if by the god denied 
 To know what most I wish.-But, for I see 
 The noble Xuthus this way bend, return'd 
 From the Trophonian cave; before my husband 
 Resume not, generous stranger, this discourse, 
 Lest it might cause me shame that thus I act 
 In secret, and perchance lead on to questions 
 I would not have explain'd. Our hapless sex 
 Oft feel our husbands' rigour: with the bad 
 The virtuous they confound, and treat us harshly.  (XUTHUS and his
 retinue enter.)  
 XUTHUS With reverence to the god my first address 
 I pay: Hail, Phoebus! Lady, next to thee: 
 Absent so long, have I not caused thee fear? 
 CREUSA Not much: as anxious thoughts 'gan rise, thou'rt come.
 But, tell me, from Trophonius what reply 
 Bearest thou; what means whence offspring may arise? 
 XUTHUS Unmeet he held it to anticipate 
 The answer of the god: one thing he told me. 
 That childless I should not return, nor thou, 
 Home from the oracle. 
 CREUSA Goddess revered, 
 Mother of Phoebus, be our coming hither 
 In lucky hour; and our connubial bed 
 Be by thy son made happier than before! 
 XUTHUS It shall be so. But who is president here? 
 ION Without, that charge is mine; within, devolved 
 On others, stranger, seated near the tripod; 
 The chiefs of Delphi these, chosen by lot. 
 XUTHUS 'Tis well: all that I want is then complete. 
 Let me now enter: for the oracle 
 Is given, I hear, in common to all strangers 
 Before the shrine; on such a day, that falls 
 Propitious thus, the answer of the god 
 Would I receive: meanwhile, these laurel boughs 
 Bear round the altars; lady, breathe thy prayers 
 To every god, that from Apollo's shrine 
 I may bring back the promise of a son.  (XUTHUS, after giving the
 laurel boughs to CREUSA, enters the temple.)  
 CREUSA It shall, it shall be so. Should Phoebus now 
 At least be willing to redress the fault 
 Of former times, he would not through the whole 
 Be friendly to us: yet will I accept 
 What he vouchsafes us, for he is a god.  (CREUSA departs to the shrines
 in the outer precinct of the temple.)  
 ION Why does this stranger always thus revile 
 With obscure speech the god? Is it through love 
 Of her, for whom she asks? or to conceal 
 Some secret of importance? But to me 
 What is the daughter of Erechtheus? Naught 
 Concerns it me. Then let me to my task, 
 And sprinkle from the golden vase the dew. 
 Yet must I blame the god, if thus perforce 
 He mounts the bed of virgins, and by stealth 
 Becomes a father, leaving then his children 
 To die, regardless of them. Do not thou 
 Act thus; but, as thy power is great, respect 
 The virtues; for whoe'er, of mortal men, 
 Dares impious deeds, him the gods punish: how 
 Is it then just that you, who gave the laws 
 To mortals, should yourselves transgress those laws?, 
 If (though it is not thus, yet will I urge 
 The subject,)-if to mortals you shall pay 
 The penalty of forced embraces, thou, 
 Neptune, and Jove, that reigns supreme in heaven, 
 Will leave your temples treasureless by paying 
 The mulcts of your injustice: for unjust 
 You are, your pleasures to grave temperance 
 Preferring: and to men these deeds no more 
 Can it be just to charge as crimes, these deeds 
 If from the gods they imitate: on those 
 Who gave the ill examples falls the charge.  (ION goes out.)
 CHORUS  (singing, strophe)
 Thee prompt to yield thy lenient aid, 
 And sooth a mother's pain: 
 And thee, my Pallas, martial maid, 
 I call: O, hear the strain! 
 Thou, whom the Titan from the head of Jove, 
 Prometheus, drew, bright Victory, come, 
 Descending from thy golden throne above; 
 Haste, goddess, to the Pythian dome, 
 Where Phoebus, from his central shrine, 
 Gives the oracle divine, 
 By the raving maid repeated, 
 On the hallow'd tripod seated: 
 O haste thee, goddess, and with thee 
 The daughter of Latona bring; 
 A virgin thou, a virgin she, 
 Sisters to the Delphian king; 
 Him, virgins, let your vows implore, 
 That now his pure oracular power 
 Will to Erechtheus' ancient line declare 
 The blessing of a long-expected heir! 
 To mortal man this promised grace 
 Sublimest pleasure brings, 
 When round the father's hearth a race 
 In blooming lustre springs. 
 The wealth, the honours, from their high-drawn line 
 From sire to son transmitted down, 
 Shall with fresh glory through their offspring shine, 
 And brighten with increased renown: 
 A guard, when ills begin to lower, 
 Dear in fortune's happier hour; 
 For their country's safety waking, 
 Firm in fight the strong spear shaking; 
 More than proud wealth's exhaustless store, 
 More than a monarch's bride to reign, 
 The dear delight, to virtue's lore 
 Careful the infant mind to train. 
 Doth any praise the childless state? 
 The joyless, loveless life I hate; 
 No; my desires to moderate wealth I bound, 
 But let me see my children smile around. 
 Ye rustic seats, Pan's dear delight; 
 Ye caves of Macrai's rocky height, 
 Where oft the social virgins meet, 
 And weave the dance with nimble feet; 
 Descendants from Aglauros they 
 In the third line, with festive play, 
 Minerva's hallow'd fane before 
 The verdant plain light-tripping o'er, 
 When thy pipe's quick-varying sound 
 Rings, O Pan, these caves around; 
 Where, by Apollo's love betray'd, 
 Her child some hapless mother laid, 
 Exposed to each night-prowling beast, 
 Or to the ravenous birds a feast; 
 For never have I heard it told, 
 Nor wrought it in historic gold, 
 That happiness attends the race, 
 When gods with mortals mix the embrace.  (ION re-enters.)
 ION Ye female train, that place yourselves around 
 This incense-breathing temple's base, your lord 
 Awaiting, hath he left the sacred tripod 
 And oracle, or stays he in the shrine, 
 Making inquiries of his childless state? 
 LEADER OF THE CHORUS Yet in the temple, stranger, he remains.
 ION But he comes forth; the sounding doors announce 
 His near approach; behold, our lord is here.  (XUTHUS enters from
 the temple. He rushes to greet ION.)  
 XUTHUS Health to my son! This first address is proper. 
 ION I have my health: be in thy senses thou, 
 And both are well. 
 XUTHUS O let me kiss thy hand, 
 And throw mine arms around thee. 
 ION Art thou, stranger, 
 Well in thy wits? or hath the god's displeasure 
 Bereft thee of thy reason? 
 XUTHUS Reason bids, 
 That which is dearest being found, to wish 
 A fond embrace. 
 ION Off, touch me not; thy hands 
 Will mar the garlands of the god. 
 XUTHUS My touch 
 Asserts no pledge: my own, and that most dear, 
 I find. 
 ION Wilt thou not keep thee distant, ere 
 Thou hast my arrow in thy heart? 
 XUTHUS Why fly me, 
 When thou shouldst own what is most fond of thee? 
 ION I am not fond of curing wayward strangers, 
 And madmen. 
 XUTHUS Kill me, raise my funeral pyre; 
 But, if thou kill me, thou wilt kill thy father. 
 ION My father thou! how so? it makes me laugh 
 To hear thee. 
 XUTHUS This my words may soon explain. 
 ION What wilt thou say to me? 
 XUTHUS I am thy father, 
 And thou my son. 
 ION Who declares this? 
 XUTHUS The god, 
 That nurtured thee, though mine. 
 ION Thou to thyself 
 Art witness. 
 XUTHUS By the oracle inform'd. 
 ION Misled by some dark answer. 
 XUTHUS Well I heard it. 
 ION What were the words of Phoebus? 
 XUTHUS That who first 
 Should meet me- 
 ION How?-what meeting? 
 XUTHUS As I pass'd. 
 Forth from the temple. 
 ION What the event to him? 
 XUTHUS He is my son. 
 ION Born so, or by some other 
 XUTHUS Though a present, born my son. 
 ION And didst thou first meet me? 
 XUTHUS None else, my son. 
 ION This fortune whence? 
 XUTHUS At that we marvel both. 
 ION Who is my mother? 
 XUTHUS That I cannot say. 
 ION Did not the god inform thee? 
 XUTHUS Through my joy, 
 For this I ask'd not. 
 ION Haply from the earth 
 I sprung, my mother. 
 XUTHUS No, the earth no sons 
 ION How then am I thine? 
 XUTHUS I know not. 
 To Phoebus I appeal. 
 ION Be this discourse 
 Chang'd to some other. 
 XUTHUS This delights me most. 
 ION Hast thou e'er mounted an unlawful bed? 
 XUTHUS In foolishness of youth. 
 ION Was that before 
 Thy marriage with the daughter of Erechtheus? 
 XUTHUS Since never. 
 ION Owe I then my birth to that? 
 XUTHUS The time agrees. 
 ION How came I hither then? 
 XUTHUS I can form no conjecture. 
 ION Was I brought 
 From some far distant part? 
 XUTHUS That fills my mind 
 With doubtful musing. 
 ION Didst thou e'er before 
 Visit the Pythian rock? 
 XUTHUS Once, at the feast 
 Of Bacchus. 
 ION By some public host received? 
 XUTHUS Who with the Delphian damsels- 
 ION To the orgies 
 Led thee, or how? 
 XUTHUS And with the Maenades 
 Of Bacchus- 
 ION In the temperate hour, or warm 
 With wine? 
 XUTHUS Amid the revels of the god. 
 ION From thence I date my birth. 
 XUTHUS And fate, my son, 
 Hath found thee. 
 ION How then came I to the temple? 
 XUTHUS Perchance exposed. 
 ION The state of servitude 
 Have I escaped. 
 XUTHUS Thy father now, my son, 
 ION Indecent were it in the god 
 Not to confide. 
 XUTHUS Thy thoughts are just. 
 ION What else 
 Would we? 
 XUTHUS Thou seest what thou oughtst to see. 
 ION Am I the son then of the son of Jove? 
 XUTHUS Such is thy fortune. 
 ION Those that gave me birth 
 Do I embrace? 
 XUTHUS Obedient to the god. 
 ION My father, hail! 
 XUTHUS That dear name I accept 
 With joy. 
 ION This present day- 
 XUTHUS Hath made me happy. 
 ION O my dear mother, when shall I behold 
 Thy face? Whoe'er thou art, more wish I now 
 To see thee than before; but thou perchance 
 Art dead, and nothing our desires avail. 
 LEADER We in the blessing of our house rejoice. 
 Yet wish we that our mistress too were happy 
 In children, and the lineage of Erechtheus. 
 XUTHUS Well hath the god accomplish'd this, my son, 
 Discovering thee, well hath he joined thee to me; 
 And thou hast found the most endearing ties, 
 To which, before this hour, thou wast a stranger. 
 And the warm wish, which thou hast well conceived, 
 Is likewise mine, that thou mayst find thy mother; 
 I from what woman thou derivest thy birth. 
 This, left to time, may haply be discover'd. 
 Now quit this hallow'd earth, the god no more 
 Attending, and to mine accord thy mind, 
 To visit Athens, where thy father's sceptre, 
 No mean one, waits thee, and abundant wealth: 
 Nor, though thou grieve one parent yet unknown, 
 Shalt thou be censured as ignobly born, 
 Or poor: no, thou art noble, and thy state 
 Adorn'd with rich possessions. Thou art silent. 
 Why is thine eye thus fixed upon the ground? 
 Why on thy brow that cloud? The smile of joy 
 Vanish'd, thou strikest thy father's heart with fear. 
 ION Far other things appear when nigh, than seen 
 At distance. I indeed embrace my fortune, 
 In thee my father found. But hear what now 
 Wakes sad reflections. Proud of their high race 
 Are your Athenians, natives of the land, 
 Not drawn from foreign lineage: I to them 
 Shall come unwelcome, in two points defective, 
 My father not a native, and myself 
 Of spurious birth: loaded with this reproach, 
 If destitute of power, I shall be held 
 Abject and worthless: should I rush among 
 The highest order of the state, and wish 
 To appear important, inferior ranks 
 Will hate me; aught above them gives disgust. 
 The good, the wise, men form'd to serve the state, 
 Are silent, nor at public honours aim 
 Too hastily: by such, were I not quiet 
 In such a bustling state, I should be deem'd 
 Ridiculous, and proverb'd for a fool. 
 Should I attain the dignity of those, 
 Whose approved worth hath raised them to the height 
 Of public honours, by such suffrage more 
 Should I be watch'd; for they that hold in states 
 Rule and pre-eminence, bear hostile minds 
 To all that vie with them. And should I come 
 To a strange house a stranger, to a woman 
 Childless herself, who that misfortune shared 
 Before with thee, now sees it her sole lot, 
 And feels it bitterly, would she not hate me, 
 And that with justice? When I stand before them. 
 With what an eye would she, who hath no child, 
 Look on thy child? In tenderness to her, 
 Thy wife, thou must forsake me, or embroil 
 Thy house in discord, if thou favour me. 
 What murderous means, what poisonous drugs for men 
 Have women with inventive rage prepared! 
 Besides, I have much pity for thy wife, 
 Now growing old without a child, that grief 
 Unmerited, the last of her high race, 
 The exterior face indeed of royalty, 
 So causelessly commended, bath its brightness; 
 Within, all gloom: for what sweet peace of mind, 
 What happiness is his, whose years are pass'd 
 In comfortless suspicion, and the dread 
 Of violence? Be mine the humble blessings 
 Of private life, rather than be a king, 
 From the flagitious forced to choose my friends, 
 And hate the virtuous through the fear of death. 
 Gold, thou mayst tell me, hath o'er things like these 
 A sovereign power, and riches give delight: 
 I have no pleasure in this noisy pomp, 
 Nor, while I guard my riches, in the toil: 
 Be mine a modest mean that knows not care. 
 And now, my father, hear the happy state 
 I here enjoy'd; and first, to mortal man 
 That dearest blessing, leisure, and no bustle 
 To cause disturbance: me no ruffian force 
 Shoved from the way: it is not to be borne, 
 When every insolent and worthless wretch 
 Makes you give place. The worship of the god 
 Employ'd my life, or (no unpleasing task) 
 Service to men well pleased: the parting guest 
 I bade farewell-welcomed the new-arrived. 
 Thus something always new made every hour 
 Glide sweetly on; and to the human mind 
 That dearest wish, though some regard it not, 
 To be, what duty and my nature made me, 
 Just to the god: revolving this, my father, 
 I wish not for thy Athens to exchange 
 This state; permit me to myself to live; 
 Dear to the mind pleasures that arise 
 From humble life, as those which greatness brings. 
 LEADER Well hast thou said, if those whom my soul holds
 Most dear shall in thy words find happiness. 
 XUTHUS No more of this discourse; learn to be happy. 
 It is my will that thou begin it here, 
 Where first I found thee, son: a general feast 
 Will I provide, and make a sacrifice, 
 Which at thy birth I made not: at my table 
 Will I receive thee as a welcome guest, 
 And cheer thee with the banquet, then conduct the 
 To Athens with me as a visitant, 
 Not as my son: for, mid my happiness, 
 I would not grieve my wife, who hath no child. 
 ION But I will watch the occasions time may bring, 
 And so present thee, and obtain her leave 
 That thou mayst hold the sceptre which I bear. 
 Ion I name thee, as befits thy fortune, 
 As first thou met'st me from the hallow'd shrine 
 As I came forth; assemble then thy friends, 
 Invite them all to share the joyful feast, 
 Since thou art soon to leave the Delphic state. 
 And you, ye females, keep, I charge you, keep 
 This secret; she that tells my wife shall die. 
 ION Let us then go; yet one thing to my fortune 
 Is wanting: if I find not her that bore me, 
 Life hath no joy. Might I indulge a wish, 
 It were to find her an Athenian dame, 
 That from my mother I might dare to assume 
 Some confidence; for he whose fortune leads him 
 To a free state proud of their unmix'd race, 
 Though call'd a citizen, must close his lips 
 With servile awe, for freedom is not his.  (XUTHUS and ION go out.)
 CHORUS  (singing, strophe)
 Yes, sisters, yes, the streaming eye, 
 The swelling heart I see, the bursting sigh, 
 When thus rejoicing in his son 
 Our queen her royal lord shall find, 
 And give to grief her anguish'd mind, 
 Afflicted, childless, and alone. 
 What means this voice divine, 
 Son of Latona, fate-declaring power? 
 Whence is this youth, so fondly graced, 
 That to ripe manhood, from his infant hour, 
 Hath in thy hallow'd courts been plac'd 
 And nurtured 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 an her willing mind. 
 But joys are his alone; 
 While she, poor mourner, with a weight of woes, 
 To hoary age advancing, bends; 
 He the bright smile of prosperous fortune knows. 
 Ev'n 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. 
 Now the 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 frantic 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 Erechtheus and her line of kings.  (CREUSA and her aged TUTOR
 CREUSA Thou venerable man, whose guiding voice 
 My father, while he lived, revered, advance 
 Up to the oracular seat thy aged steps; 
 That, if the royal Phoebus should pronounce 
 Promise of offspring, thou with me mayst share 
 The joy; for pleasing is it when with friends 
 Good fortune we receive; if aught of ill 
 (Avert it, Heaven!) befalls, a friend's kind eye 
 Beams comfort; thee, as once thou didst revere 
 My father, though thy queen, I now revere. 
 TUTOR In thee, my child, the nobleness of manners 
 Which graced 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 the oracular seat, and steep the ascent; 
 Be thou assistant to the foot of age. 
 CREUSA Follow; be heedful where thou set thy steps. 
 TUTOR I am: my foot is slow, my heart hath wings. 
 CREUSA Fix thy staff firm on this loose-rolling ground.
 TUTOR That hath no eyes; and dim indeed my sight. 
 CREUSA Well hast thou said; on cheerful then, and faint not.
 TUTOR I have the will, but o'er constraint no power. 
 CREUSA 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. 
 CREUSA To thy speech this is a proem 
 Not tuned to happiness. 
 LEADER Unhappy fortune! 
 But why distress me for the oracle 
 Given to our lords? Be that as fate requires 
 In things which threaten death, what shall we do? 
 CREUSA What means this strain of woe? Whence are these fears?
 LEADER What! shall we speak, or bury this in silence? 
 CREUSA Speak, though thy words bring wretchedness to me.
 LEADER It shall be spoken, were I twice to die. 
 To thee, my queen, it is not given to clasp 
 In thy fond arms a child, or at thy breast 
 To hold it. 
 TUTOR O my child, would I were dead! 
 CREUSA Yes, this is wretchedness indeed, a grief 
 That makes life joyless. 
 TUTOR This is ruin to us. 
 CREUSA Unhappy me! this is a piercing grief, 
 That rends my heart with anguish. 
 TUTOR Groan not yet. 
 CREUSA Yet is the affliction present. 
 TUTOR Till we learn- 
 CREUSA To me what tidings? 
 TUTOR If a common fate 
 Await our lord, partaker of thy griefs, 
 Or thou alone art thus unfortunate. 
 LEADER To him, old man, the god hath given a son, 
 And happiness is his unknown to her. 
 CREUSA To ill this adds the deepest ill, a grief 
 For me to mourn. 
 TUTOR Born of some other woman 
 Is this child yet to come, or did the god 
 Declare one now in being? 
 LEADER One advanced 
 To manhood's prime he gave him: I was present. 
 CREUSA What hast thou said? Thy words denounce to me 
 Sorrows past speech, past utterance. 
 TUTOR And to me. 
 CREUSA How was this oracle accomplish'd? Tell me 
 With clearest circumstance: who is this youth? 
 LEADER Him as a son Apollo gave, whom first, 
 Departing from the god, thy lord should meet. 
 CREUSA O my unhappy fate! I then am left 
 Childless to pass my life, childless, alone, 
 Amid my lonely house! Who was declared? 
 Whom did the husband of this wretch first meet? 
 How meet him? Where behold him? Tell me all. 
 LEADER Dost thou, my honoured mistress, call to mind 
 The youth that swept the temple? This is he. 
 CREUSA O, through the liquid air that I could fly, 
 Far from the land of Greece, ev'n to the stars 
 Fix'd in the western sky! Ah me, what grief, 
 What piercing grief is mine I 
 TUTOR Say, by what name 
 Did he address his son, if thou hast heard it? 
 Or does it rest in silence, yet unknown? 
 LEADER Ion, for that he first advanced to meet him. 
 TUTOR And of what mother? 
 LEADER That I could not learn: 
 Abrupt was his departure (to inform thee 
 Of all I know, old man) to sacrifice, 
 With hospitable rites, a birthday feast; 
 And in the hallow'd cave, from her apart, 
 With his new son to share the common banquet. 
 TUTOR Lady, we by thy husband are betrayed, 
 For I with thee am grieved, 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 pleased 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, received his nurture. 
 He knowing this, and that his son advanced 
 To manhood, urged thee to attend him hither, 
 Pleading thy childless state. Nor hath the god 
 Deceived thee: he deceived thee, and long since 
 Contrived 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 urged 
 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 displeased thee, 
 He might have sought a wife from Aeolus. 
 Behooves 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 
 Will aid thee in this work, and kill the youth, 
 Entering the grot where he prepares the feast; 
 Indifferent in my choice, so that I pay 
 What to my lords I owe, to live or die. 
 If there is aught that causes slaves to blush, 
 It is the name; in all else than the free 
 The slave is nothing worse, if he be virtuous. 
 I too, my honour'd queen, with cheerful mind 
 Will share thy fate, or die, or live with honour. 
 CREUSA  (chanting) How, o my soul, shall I be silent, how
 Disclose this secret? Can I bid farewell 
 To modesty? What else restrains my tongue? 
 To how severe a trial am I brought! 
 Hath not my husband wrong'd me? Of my house 
 I am deprived, deprived of children; hope 
 Is vanish'd, which my heart could not resign, 
 With many an honest wish this furtive bed 
 Concealing, this lamented bed concealing. 
 But by the star-bespangled throne of Jove, 
 And by the goddess high above my rocks 
 Enshrined, by the moist banks that bend around 
 The hallow'd lake by Triton form'd, no longer 
 Will I conceal this bed, but ease my breast, 
 The oppressive load discharged. Mine eyes drop tears, 
 My soul is rent, to wretchedness ensnared 
 By men, by gods, whom I will now disclose, 
 Unkind betrayers of the beds they forced. 
 O thou, that wakest on thy seven-string'd lyre 
 Sweet notes, that from the rustic lifeless horn 
 Enchant the ear with heavenly melody, 
 Son of Latona, thee before this light 
 Will I reprove. Thou camest to me, with gold 
 Thy locks all glittering, as the vermeil flowers 
 I gather'd in my vest to deck my bosom 
 With the spring's glowing hues; in my white hand 
 Thy hand enlocking, to the cavern'd rock 
 Thou led'st me; naught avail'd my cries, that call'd 
 My mother; on thou led'st me, wanton god, 
 Immodestly, to Venus paying homage. 
 A son I bare thee, O my wretched fate! 
 Him (for I fear'd my mother) in thy cave 
 I placed, where I unhappy was undone 
 By thy unhappy love. Woe, woe is me! 
 And now my son and thine, ill-fated babe, 
 Is rent by ravenous vultures; thou, meanwhile, 
 Art to thy lyre attuning strains of joy. 
 Set of Latona, thee I call aloud 
 Who from thy golden seat, thy central throne, 
 Utterest thine oracle: my voice shall reach 
 Thine ear: ungrateful lover, to my husband, 
 No grace requiting, thou hast given a son 
 To bless his house; my son and thine, unown'd, 
 Perish'd a prey to birds; the robes that wrapp'd 
 The infant's limbs, his mother's work, lost with him. 
 Delos abhors thee, and the laurel boughs 
 With the soft foliage of the palm o'erhung, 
 Grasping whose round trunk with her hands divine, 
 Latona thee, her hallow'd offspring, bore. 
 LEADER Ah, what a mighty treasury of ills 
 Is open'd here, a copious source of tears! 
 TUTOR Never, my daughter, can I sate my eyes 
 With looking on thy face: astonishment 
 Bears me beyond my senses. I had stemm'd 
 One tide of evils, when another flood 
 High-surging overwhelm'd me from the words 
 Which thou hast utter'd, from the present ills 
 To an ill train of other woes transferr'd. 
 What say'st thou? Of what charge dost thou implead 
 The god? What son hast thou brought forth? Where placed him
 A feast for vultures? Tell me all again. 
 CREUSA Though I must blush, old man, yet I will speak. 
 TUTOR I mourn with generous grief at a friend's woes. 
 CREUSA Hear then: the northward-pointing cave thou knowest,
 And the Cecropian rocks, which we call Macrai. 
 TUTOR Where stands a shrine to Pan, and altars nigh. 
 CREUSA There in a dreadful conflict I engaged. 
 TUTOR What! my tears rise ready to meet thy words. 
 CREUSA By Phoebus drawn reluctant to his bed. 
 TUTOR Was this, my daughter, such as I suppose? 
 CREUSA I know not: but if truth, I will confess it. 
 TUTOR Didst thou in silence mourn this secret ill? 
 CREUSA This was the grief I now disclose to thee. 
 TUTOR This love of Phoebus how didst thou conceal? 
 CREUSA I bore a son. Hear me, old man, with patience. 
 TUTOR Where? who assisted? or wast thou alone? 
 CREUSA Alone, in the same cave where compress'd. 
 TUTOR Where is thy son, that childless now no more 
 CREUSA Dead, good old man, to beasts of prey exposed. 
 TUTOR Dead! and the ungrateful Phoebus gives no aid? 
 CREUSA None: in the house of Pluto a young guest. 
 TUTOR Whose hands exposed him? Surely not thine own. 
 CREUSA Mine, in the shades of night, wrapp'd in his vests.
 TUTOR Hadst thou none with thee conscious to this deed?
 CREUSA My misery, and the secret place alone. 
 TUTOR How durst thou in a cavern leave thy son? 
 CREUSA How? uttering many sad and plaintive words. 
 TUTOR Ah, cruel was thy deed, the god more cruel. 
 CREUSA Hadst thou but seen him stretch his little hands!
 TUTOR Seeking the breast, or reaching to thine arms? 
 CREUSA To this, deprived of which he suffer'd wrong. 
 TUTOR And what induced thee to expose thy child? 
 CREUSA Hope that the god's kind care would save his son.
 TUTOR How are the glories of thy house destroy'd! 
 CREUSA Why, thine head cover'd, dost thou pour these tears?
 TUTOR To see thee and thy father thus unhappy. 
 CREUSA This is the state of man: nothing stands firm. 
 TUTOR No longer then, my child, let grief oppress us. 
 CREUSA What should I do? In misery all is doubt. 
 TUTOR First on the god that wrong'd thee be avenged. 
 CREUSA How shall a mortal 'gainst a god prevail? 
 TUTOR Set this revered oracular shrine on fire. 
 CREUSA I fear: ev'n now I have enough of ills. 
 TUTOR Attempt what may be done then; kill thy husband. 
 CREUSA The nuptial bed I reverence, and his goodness. 
 TUTOR This son then, which is now brought forth against thee.
 CREUSA How? Could that be, how warmly should I wish it.
 TUTOR Thy train hath swords: instruct them to the deed.
 CREUSA I go with speed: but where shall it be done? 
 TUTOR In the hallow'd tent, where now he feasts his friends.
 CREUSA An open murder, and with coward slaves! 
 TUTOR If mine displease, propose thou some design. 
 CREUSA I have it, close and easy to achieve. 
 TUTOR In both my faithful services are thine. 
 CREUSA Hear then: not strange to thee the giants' war. 
 TUTOR When they in Phlegra fought against the gods. 
 CREUSA There the earth brought forth the Gorgon, horrid monster.
 TUTOR In succour of her sons to annoy the gods? 
 CREUSA Ev'n so: her Pallas slew, daughter of Jove. 
 TUTOR What fierce and dreadful form did she then wear? 
 CREUSA Her breastplate arm'd with vipers wreathed around.
 TUTOR A well-known story; often have I heard it. 
 CREUSA Her spoils before her breast Minerva wore. 
 TUTOR The aegis; so they call the vest of Pallas. 
 CREUSA So named, when in the war she join'd the gods. 
 TUTOR But how can this, my child, annoy thy foes? 
 CREUSA Thou canst not but remember Erichthonius. 
 TUTOR Whom first of thy high race the earth brought forth.
 CREUSA To him while yet an infant Pallas gave- 
 TUTOR What? Thy slow preface raises expectation. 
 CREUSA Two drops of blood that from the Gorgon fell. 
 TUTOR And on the human frame what power have these? 
 CREUSA The one works death, the other heals disease. 
 TUTOR In what around the infant's body hung? 
 CREUSA Enclosed in gold: he gave them to my father. 
 TUTOR At his decease then they devolved to thee? 
 CREUSA Ay, and I wear it as a bracelet; look. 
 TUTOR Their double qualities how temper'd, say. 
 CREUSA This drop, which from her hollow vein distill'd,-
 TUTOR To what effect applied? What is its power? 
 CREUSA Medicinal, of sovereign use to life. 
 TUTOR The other drop, what faculties hath that? 
 CREUSA It kills, the poison of the Gorgon dragons. 
 TUTOR And dost thou bear this gore blended in one? 
 CREUSA No, separate; for with ill good mixes not. 
 TUTOR O my dear child, thou hast whate'er we want. 
 CREUSA With this the boy shall die, and thou shalt kill him.
 TUTOR Where? How? 'Tis thine to speak, to dare be mine.
 CREUSA At Athens, when he comes beneath my roof. 
 TUTOR I like not this; what I proposed displeased. 
 CREUSA Dost thou surmise what enters now my thoughts? 
 TUTOR Suspicion waits thee, though thou kill him not. 
 CREUSA Thou hast judged well: a stepdame's hate is proverb'd.
 TUTOR Then kill him here; thou mayst disown the deed. 
 CREUSA My mind ev'n now anticipates the pleasure. 
 TUTOR Thus shalt thou meet thy husband's wiles with wiles
 CREUSA This shalt thou do: this little golden casket 
 Take from my hand, Minerva's gift of old; 
 To where my husband secretly prepares 
 The sacrifice, bear this beneath thy vest. 
 That supper ended, when they are to pour 
 Libations to the gods, thou mayst infuse 
 In the youth's goblet this: but take good heed, 
 Let none observe thee; drug his cup alone 
 Who thinks to lord it in my house: if once 
 It pass his lips, his foot shall never reach 
 Illustrious Athens: death awaits him here.  (She gives him the casket.)
 TUTOR Go thou then to the hospitable house 
 Prepared for thy reception: be it mine, 
 Obedient to thy word to do this deed. 
 Come then, my aged foot, be once more young 
 In act, though not in years, for past recall 
 That time is fled: kill him, and bear him forth. 
 Well may the prosperous harbour virtuous thought; 
 But when thou wouldst avenge thee on thy foes, 
 There is no law of weight to hinder thee.  (They both go out.)
 CHORUS  (singing, strophe 1)
 Daughter of Ceres, Trivia hear, 
 Propitious regent of each public way 
 Amid the brightness of the day, 
 Nor less when night's dark hour engenders fear; 
 The fulness of this goblet guide 
 To check with death this stripling's pride, 
 For whom my queen this fatal draught prepares, 
 Tinged with the Gorgon's venom'd gore: 
 That seat, which mid Erechtheus' royal heirs 
 His pride claims, it shall claim no more: 
 Never may one of alien blood disgrace 
 The imperial honours of that high-born race! 
 (antistrophe 1)
 Should not this work of fate succeed, 
 Nor the just vengeance of my queen prevail; 
 Should this apt time of daring fail, 
 And hope, that flatters now, desert the deed; 
 Slaughter shall other means afford, 
 The strangling cord, the piercing sword; 
 For rage from disappointed rage shall flow, 
 And try each. various form of death; 
 For never shall my queen this torment know; 
 Ne'er while she draws this vital breath, 
 Brook in her house that foreign lords should shine, 
 Clothed with the splendours of her ancient line. 
 (strophe 2)
 Thou whom the various hymn delights, 
 Then thy bright choir of beauteous dames among, 
 Dancing the stream's soft brink along, 
 Thou seest the guardian of thy mystic rites, 
 Thy torch its midnight vigils keep, 
 Thine eye meantime disdaining sleep; 
 While with thee dances Jove's star-spangled plain. 
 And the moon dances up the sky: 
 Ye nymphs, that lead to grots your frolic train, 
 Beneath the gulfy founts that lie: 
 Thou gold-crown'd queen, through night's dark regions fear'd,
 And thou, her mother, power revered, 
 How should I blush to see this youth unknown! 
 This Delphic vagrant, hope to seize the throne. 
 (antistrophe 2)
 You, who the melting soul to move, 
 In loose, dishonest airs the Muse employ 
 To celebrate love's wanton joy, 
 The joy of unallow'd, unholy love, 
 See how our pure and modest law 
 Can lavish man's lewd deeds o'erawe! 
 Ye shameless bards, revoke each wanton air; 
 No more these melting measures frame; 
 Bid the chaste muse in Virtue's cause declare, 
 And mark man's lawless bed with shame! 
 Ungrateful is this Jove-descended lord; 
 For, his wife's childless bed abhorr'd, 
 Lewdly he courts the embrace of other dames, 
 And with a spurious son his pride inflames.  (An ATTENDANT of CREUSA
 ATTENDANT Athenian dames, where shall I find our queen,
 The daughter of Erechtheus? Seeking her, 
 This city have I walked around in vain. 
 LEADER OF THE CHORUS And for what cause, my fellow-slave? What means
 Thy hasty foot? What tidings dost thou bring? 
 ATTENDANT We are discover'd; and the rulers here 
 Seek her, that she may die o'erwhelm'd with stones. 
 LEADER Ah me! what wouldst thou say? Are our designs 
 Of secret ruin to this youth disclosed? 
 ATTENDANT They are; and know, the worst of ills await you.
 LEADER How were our dark devices brought to light? 
 ATTENDANT The god, that justice might receive no stain 
 Caused it to triumph o'er defeated wrong. 
 LEADER How? as a suppliant, I conjure thee, tell me 
 Of this inform'd, if we must die, more freely 
 Wish we to die than see the light of heaven. 
 ATTENDANT Soon as the husband of Creusa left 
 The god's oracular shrine, this new-found son 
 He to the feast, and sacrifice prepared 
 To the high gods, led with him. Xuthus then 
 Went where the hallow'd flame of Bacchus mounts, 
 That on each rock's high point the victim's blood 
 Might flow, a grateful offering for his son 
 Thus recognised, to whom he gave in charge, 
 "Stay thou, and with the artist's expert aid 
 Erect the sheltering tent: my rites perform'd 
 To the kind gods that o'er the genial bed 
 Preside, should I be there detain'd too long, 
 Spread the rich table to my present friends." 
 This said, he led the victims to the rocks. 
 Meanwhile with reverent heed the son 'gan rear 
 On firm supporters the wide tent, whose sides 
 No masonry require, yet framed to exclude 
 The mid-day sun's hot beams, or his last rays 
 When sinking in the west: the lengthen'd lines 
 Equally distant comprehend a square 
 Of twice five thousand feet (the skilful thus 
 Compute it), space to feast (for so he will'd) 
 All Delphi: from the treasures of the god 
 He took the sacred tapestry, and around 
 Hung the rich shade, on which the admiring eye 
 Gazes with fix'd delight: first over head, 
 Like a broad pennon spread the extended woof, 
 Which from the Amazonian spoils the son 
 Of Jove, Alcides, hallow'd to the god; 
 In its bright texture interwov'n a sky 
 Gathering the stars in its ethereal round, 
 While downwards to the western wave the sun 
 His steeds declines, and to his station high 
 Draws up the radiant flame of Hesperus. 
 Meanwhile the Night robed in her sable stole, 
 Her unreign'd car advances; on her state 
 The stars attend; the Pleiads mounting high, 
 And with his glittering sword Orion arm'd; 
 Above, Arcturus to the golden pole 
 Inclines; full-orb'd the month-dividing moon 
 Takes her bright station, and the Hyades 
 Marked by the sailor: distant in the rear, 
 Aurora ready to relume the day, 
 And put the stars to flight. The sides were graced 
 With various textures of the historic woof, 
 Barbaric arguments; in gallant trim 
 Against the fleet of Greece the hostile fleet 
 Rides proudly on. Here monstrous forms portray'd 
 Human and brutal mix'd: the Thracian steeds 
 Are seized, the hinds, and the adventurous chase 
 Of savage lions: figured nigh the doors, 
 Cecrops, attended by his daughter's, roll'd 
 His serpent train: in the ample space within 
 He spread the festal table, richly deck'd 
 With golden goblets. Now the herald walk'd 
 His round, each native that inclined to grace 
 The feast inviting: to the crowded tent 
 They hasten, crown'd with garlands, and partake 
 The exquisite repast. The pleasured sense 
 Now satiate, in the midst an old man stood, 
 Officious in his ministry, which raised 
 Much mirth among the guests; for from the urns 
 He fill'd the lavers, and with fragrant myrrh 
 Incensed the place; the golden bowls he claim'd 
 His charge. When now the jocund pipes 'gan breathe 
 Harmonious airs, and the fresh goblet stood 
 Ready to walk its round, the old man said, 
 "Away with these penurious cups, and bring 
 Capacious bowls; so shall you quickly bathe 
 Your spirits in delight." With speed were brought 
 Goblets of gold and silver: one he took 
 Of choicer frame; and, seemingly intent 
 To do his young lord honour, the full vase 
 Gave to his hands, but in the wine infused 
 A drug of poisonous power, which, it is said, 
 His queen supplied, that the new son no more 
 Might view the light of heav'n; but unobserved 
 He mix'd it. As the youth among the rest 
 Pour'd the libation, 'mid the attendant slaves 
 Words of reproach one utter'd: he, as train'd 
 Within the temple and with expert seers, 
 Deem'd them of evil omen, and required 
 Another goblet to be filled afresh- 
 The former a libation to the god, 
 He cast upon the ground, instructing all 
 To pour, like him, the untasted liquor down. 
 Silence ensued: the sacred bowls we fill 
 With wines of Byblos; when a troop of doves 
 Came fluttering in, for undisturb'd they haunt 
 The dome of Phoebus: in the floating wine 
 They dipp'd their bills to drink, then raised their heads,
 Gurgling it down their beauteous-plumed throats. 
 Harmless to all the spilt wine, save to her 
 That lighted where the youth had pour'd his bowl: 
 She drank, and straight convulsive shiverings seized 
 Her beauteous plumes; around in giddy rings 
 She whirl'd, and in a strange and mournful note 
 Seem'd to lament: amazement seized the guests, 
 Seeing the poor bird's pangs: her heart heaved thick, 
 And stretching out her scarlet legs, she died. 
 Rending his robes, the son of Phoebus given 
 Sprung from the table, and aloud exclaim'd,- 
 "What wretch design'd to kill me? Speak, old man: 
 Officious was thy ministry; the bowl 
 I from thy hand received." Then straight he seized 
 His aged arm, and to the question held him, 
 As in the fact discover'd: he thus caught, 
 Reluctant and constrain'd, own'd the bold deed, 
 The deadly goblet by Creusa drugg'd. 
 Forth from the tent, the guests attending, rush'd 
 The youth announced by Phoebus, and amid 
 The Pythian regents says,-"O hallow'd land! 
 This stranger dame, this daughter of Erechtheus 
 Attempts my life by poison." Then decreed 
 The Delphian lords (nor did one voice dissent) 
 That she should die, my mistress, from the rock 
 Cast headlong, as the deed was aim'd against 
 A sacred life, and impiously presumed 
 This hallow'd place with murder to profane. 
 Demanded by the state, she this way bends 
 Her wretched steps. Unhappy to this shrine 
 She came through fond desire of children; here, 
 Together with her hopes, her life is lost. 
 CHORUS  (singing) None, there is none, from death no flight,
 To me no refuge; our dark deed 
 Betray'd, betray'd to open light; 
 The festive bowl, with sprightly wine that flow'd 
 Mix'd with the Gorgon's viperous blood, 
 An offering to the dead decreed, 
 All is betray'd to light: and I, 
 Cast headlong from the rock, must die. 
 What flight shall save me from this death, 
 Borne on swift pinions through the air, 
 Sunk to the darksome cave beneath, 
 Or mounted on the rapid car? 
 Or shall the flying bark unfurl its sails? 
 Alas, my queen, no flight avails, 
 Save when some god's auspicious power 
 Shall snatch us from the dangerous hour. 
 Unhappy queen, what pangs shall rend thy heart! 
 Shall we, who plann'd the deathful deed, 
 Be caught within the toils we spread, 
 While justice claims severe her chast'ning part?  (CREUSA rushes in.)
 CREUSA I am pursued, ye faithful females, doom'd 
 To death: the Pythian council hath decreed it: 
 My life is forfeited. 
 LEADER OF THE CHORUS Unhappy lady, 
 We know the dreadful ills that close thee round. 
 CREUSA Ah, whither shall I fly? From instant death 
 Scarce hath my foot sped hither, from my foes 
 By stealth escaping. 
 LEADER Whither wouldst thou fly, 
 But to this altar? 
 CREUSA What will that avail me? 
 LEADER To kill a suppliant there the law forbids. 
 CREUSA But by the law I perish. 
 LEADER If their hands 
 Had seized thee. 
 CREUSA Dreadful contest, with drawn swords 
 They hastily advance. 
 LEADER Now take thy seat 
 At the altar: shouldst thou die ev'n there, thy blood 
 Will call the vengeance of the god on those 
 That spilt it: but our fortune we must bear.  (She takes refuge at
 the altar as ION, guards, and Delphians enter.)  
 ION Bull-visaged sire Cephisus, what a viper 
 Hast thou produced? a dragon from her eyes 
 Glaring pernicious flame. Each daring deed 
 Is hers: less venomous the Gorgon's blood, 
 With which she purposed to have poison'd me. 
 Seize her, that the Parnassian rocks may tease 
 Those nice-adjusted ringlets of her hair, 
 As down the craggy precipice she bounds. 
 Here my good genius saved me, e'er I came 
 To Athens, there beneath my stepdame's wiles 
 To fall; amid my friends thy fell intents 
 Have I unravell'd, what a pest to me, 
 Thy hate how deadly: had thy toils inclosed me 
 In thine own house, thou wouldst at once have sent me 
 With complete ruin to the shades below. 
 But nor the altar nor Apollo's shrine 
 Shall save thee. Pity, might her voice be heard, 
 Would rather plead for me and for my mother, 
 She absent, yet the name remains with me. 
 Behold that sorceress; with what art she wove 
 Wile after wile; the altar of the god 
 Impress'd her not with awe, as if secure. 
 No vengeance waited her unhallow'd deeds. 
 CREUSA I charge thee, kill me not, in my own right, 
 And in the god's, whose suppliant here I stand. 
 ION What right hast thou to plead Apollo's name? 
 CREUSA My person hallow'd to the god I offer. 
 ION Yet wouldst thou poison one that is the god's. 
 CREUSA Thou wast no more Apollo's, but thy father's. 
 ION I have been, of a father's wealth I speak. 
 CREUSA And now I am: thou hast that claim no more. 
 ION But thou art impious: pious were my deeds. 
 CREUSA As hostile to my house, I would have kill'd thee.
 ION Did I against thy country march in arms? 
 CREUSA And more; thou wouldst have fired Erechtheus' house.
 ION What torch, what brands, what flames had I prepared?
 CREUSA There wouldst thou fix, seizing my right by force.
 ION The land which he possess'd, my father gave me. 
 CREUSA What claim hath there the race of Aeolus? 
 ION He was its guardian, not with words but arms. 
 CREUSA Its soldier then; an inmate, not its lord. 
 ION Wouldst thou, through fear of what might happen, kill me?
 CREUSA Lest death should be my portion, if not thine. 
 ION Childless thou enviest that my father found me. 
 CREUSA And wilt thou make a childless house thy spoil? 
 ION Devolves my father then no share to me? 
 CREUSA His shield, his spear; be those thine heritage. 
 ION Come from the altar, quit that hallow'd seat. 
 CREUSA Instruct thy mother, whosoe'er she be. 
 ION Shalt thou unpunish'd meditate my death? 
 CREUSA Within this shrine if thou wilt murder me. 
 ION What pleasure mid these sacred wreaths to die? 
 CREUSA We shall grieve one, by whom we have been grieved.
 ION Strange, that the god should give these laws to men,
 Bearing no stamp of honour, nor design'd 
 With provident thought: it is not meet to place 
 The unrighteous at his altars; worthier far 
 To be chased thence; nor decent that the vile 
 Should with their touch pollute the gods: the good, 
 Oppress'd with wrongs, should at those hallow'd seats 
 Seek refuge: ill beseems it that the unjust 
 And just alike should seek protection there.  (As ION and his followers
 are about to tear CREUSA from the altar, the PRIESTESS of Apollo enters
 from the temple.)  
 PRIESTESS Forbear, my son, leaving the oracular seat, 
 I pass this pale, the priestess of the god, 
 The guardian of the tripod's ancient law, 
 Call'd to this charge from all the Delphian dames. 
 ION Hail, my loved mother, dear, though not my parent. 
 PRIESTESS Yet let me have the name, 'tis grateful to me.
 ION Hast thou yet heard their wily trains to kill me? 
 PRIESTESS I have; but void of mercy thou dost wrong. 
 ION Should I not ruin those that sought my life? 
 PRIESTESS Stepdames to former sons are always hostile. 
 ION And I to stepdames ill intreated thus. 
 PRIESTESS Be not, this shrine now leaving for thy country.
 ION How, then, by thy monition should I act? 
 PRIESTESS Go with good omens, pure to Athens go. 
 ION All must be pure that kill their enemies. 
 PRIESTESS So do not thou: attentive mark my words. 
 ION Speak: from good will whate'er thou say'st must flow.
 PRIESTESS Seest thou the vase I hold beneath mine arm? 
 ION I see an ancient ark entwined with wreaths. 
 PRIESTESS In this long since an infant I received thee.
 ION What say'st thou? New is thy discourse and strange.
 PRIESTESS In silence have I kept them: now I show them.
 ION And why conceal'd, as long since thou received'st me?
 PRIESTESS The god would have thee in his shrine a servant.
 ION Is that no more his will? How shall I know it? 
 PRIESTESS Thy father shown, he sends thee from this land.
 ION Hast thou preserved these things by charge, or how?
 PRIESTESS It was the god that so disposed my thought. 
 ION With what design? Speak, finish thy discourse. 
 PRIESTESS Ev'n to this hour to keep what then I found. 
 ION What gain imports this to me, or what loss? 
 PRIESTESS There didst thou lie wrapp'd in thy infant vests.
 ION Thou hast produced whence I may find my mother. 
 PRIESTESS Since now the god so wills, but not before. 
 ION This is a day of bless'd discoveries. 
 PRIESTESS Now take them: o'er all Asia, and the bounds 
 Of Europe hold thy progress: thou shalt know 
 These tokens. To do pleasure to the god, 
 I nurtured thee, my son; now to thy hand 
 Restore what was his will I should receive 
 Unbidden, and preserve: for what intent 
 It was his will, I have not power to say. 
 That I had these, or where they were conceal'd, 
 No mortal knew. And now farewell: the love 
 I bear thee equals what a parent feels. 
 Let thy inquiries where they ought begin; 
 First, if some Delphian virgin gave thee birth, 
 And in this shrine exposed thee; next, if one 
 Of Greece. From me, and from the god, who feels 
 An interest in thy fortune, thou hast all.  (She goes into the temple
 after giving ION the ark.)  
 ION Ah me! the moist tear trickles from mine eye, 
 When I reflect that she who gave me birth, 
 By stealth espoused, may with like secrecy 
 Have sold me, to my infant lips her breast 
 Denied: but in the temple of the god 
 Without a name, a servile life I led. 
 All from the god was gracious, but from fortune 
 Harsh; for the time when in a mother's arms 
 I in her fondness should have known some joy 
 Of life, from that sweet care was I estranged, 
 A mother's nurture: nor less wretched she, 
 Thus forced to lose the pleasure in her son. 
 But I will take this vase, and to the god 
 Bear it, a hallow'd offering; that from thence 
 I may find nothing which I would not find. 
 Should she, that gave me being, chance to be 
 A slave, to find her were a greater ill, 
 Than to rest silent in this ignorance. 
 O Phoebus, in thy temple hang I this. 
 What am I doing? War I not against 
 The pleasure of the god, who saved for me 
 These pledges of my mother? I must dare, 
 And open these: my fate cannot be shunn'd.  (He opens the ark.)  Ye
 sacred garlands, what have you so long 
 Conceal'd: ye bands, that keep these precious relics? 
 Behold the cover of this circular vase; 
 Its freshness knows no change, as if a god 
 So will'd; this osier-woven ark yet keeps 
 Its soundness undecay'd; yet many a year, 
 Since it contain'd this treasured charge, has pass'd. 
 CREUSA What an unhoped-for sight do I behold! 
 ION I thought thou long hadst known to keep thee silent.
 CREUSA Silence is mine no more; instruct not me; 
 For I behold the ark, wherein of old 
 I laid thee, O my son, an infant babe; 
 And in the caves of Cecrops, with the rocks 
 Of Macrai roof'd, exposed thee: I will quit 
 This altar, though I run on certain death. 
 ION Seize her; for by the impulse of the god 
 She leaves the sculptured altar: bind her bands. 
 CREUSA Instantly kill me, so that I embrace 
 This vase, and thee, and these thy conceal'd pledges. 
 ION Is not this strange? I take thee at thy word. 
 CREUSA Not strange: a friend thou by thy friends art found.
 ION Thy friend! Yet wouldst thou kill me secretly. 
 CREUSA My son: if that to parents is most dear. 
 ION Forbear thy wiles; I shall refute them well. 
 CREUSA Might I but to come to what I wish, my son! 
 ION Is this vase empty, or contains it aught? 
 CREUSA Thy infant vests, in which I once exposed thee. 
 ION And wilt thou name them to me, ere thou see them? 
 CREUSA If I recount them not, be death my meed. 
 ION Speak then: thy confidence hath something strange. 
 CREUSA A tissue, look, which when a child I wrought. 
 ION What is it? Various are the works of virgins. 
 CREUSA A slight, unfinish'd essay of the loom. 
 ION What figure wrought? Thou shalt not take me thus. 
 CREUSA A Gorgon central in the warp enwoven- 
 ION What fortune haunts me, O supreme of gods! 
 CREUSA And like an aegis edged with serpents round. 
 ION Such is the woof, and such the vest I find. 
 CREUSA Thou old embroidery of my virgin bands! 
 ION Is there aught else besides this happy proof? 
 CREUSA Two dragons, an old work, their jaws of gold. 
 ION The gift of Pallas, who thus nurtures children? 
 CREUSA Emblems of Erichthonius of old times. 
 ION Why? for what use? Explain these works of gold. 
 CREUSA For ornaments to grace the infant's neck. 
 ION See, here they are; the third I wish to know. 
 CREUSA A branch of olive then I wreathed around thee, 
 Pluck'd from that tree which from Minerva's rock 
 First sprung; if it be there, it still retains 
 Its verdure: for the foliage of that olive, 
 Fresh in immortal beauty, never fades. 
 ION O my dear mother! I with joy behold thee. 
 With transport 'gainst thy cheek my cheek recline.  (They embrace.)
 CREUSA My son, my son, far dearer to thy mother 
 Than yon bright orb  (the god will pardon me)  , 
 Do I then hold thee in my arms, thus found 
 Beyond my hopes, when in the realms below, 
 I thought thy habitation 'mong the dead? 
 ION O my dear mother, in thy arms I seem 
 As one that had been dead to life return'd. 
 CREUSA Ye wide-expanded rays of heavenly light, 
 What notes, what high-raised strains shall tell my joy? 
 This pleasure whence, this unexpected transport? 
 ION There was no blessing farther from my thoughts 
 Than this, my mother, to be found thy son. 
 CREUSA I tremble yet. 
 ION And hast thou yet a fear, 
 Holding me, not to hold me? 
 CREUSA Such fond hopes 
 Long time have I renounced. Thou hallow'd matron, 
 From whom didst thou receive my infant child? 
 What bless'd hand brought him to Apollo's shrine? 
 ION It was the god's appointment: may our life 
 To come be happy, as the past was wretched. 
 CREUSA Not without tears, my son, wast thou brought forth;
 Nor without anguish did my hands resign thee. 
 Now breathing on thy cheek I feel a joy 
 Transporting me with heartfelt ecstasies. 
 ION The words expressive of thy joys speak mine. 
 CREUSA Childless no more, no more alone, my house 
 Now shines with festive joy; my realms now own 
 A lord; Erechtheus blooms again; no more 
 His high-traced lineage sees night darkening round, 
 But glories in the sun's refulgent beams. 
 ION Now let my father, since he's present here, 
 Be partner of the joy which I have given you. 
 CREUSA What says my son? 
 ION Such, such as I am proved. 
 CREUSA What mean thy words? Far other is thy birth. 
 ION Ah me! thy virgin bed produced me base. 
 CREUSA Nor bridal torch, my son, nor bridal dance 
 Had graced my nuptial rites, when thou wast born. 
 ION Then I'm a wretch, a base-born wretch: say whence. 
 CREUSA Be witness, thou by whom the Gorgon died,- 
 ION What means this adjuration? 
 CREUSA Who hast fix'd 
 High o'er my cave thy seat amid the rocks 
 With olive clothed. 
 ION Abstruse thy words, and dark. 
 CREUSA Where on the cliffs the nightingale attunes 
 Her songs, Apollo- 
 ION Why Apollo named? 
 CREUSA Led me in secret to his bed. 
 ION Speak on; 
 Thy words import some glorious fortune to me. 
 CREUSA Thee in the tenth revolving month, my son, 
 A secret pang to Phoebus did I bear. 
 ION Thy words, if true, are grateful to my soul. 
 CREUSA These swathing bands, thy mother's virgin work, 
 Wove by my flying shuttle, round thy body 
 I roll'd; but from thy lips my breast withheld, 
 A mother's nouriture, nor bathed thy bands 
 In cleansing lavers; but to death exposed thee, 
 Laid in the dreary cave, to birds of prey 
 A feast, rent piecemeal by their ravenous beaks. 
 ION Cruel, my mother, was thy deed. 
 CREUSA By fear 
 Constrain'd, my son, I cast thy life away; 
 Unwillingly I left thee there to die. 
 ION And from my hands unholy were thy death. 
 CREUSA Dreadful was then my fortune, dreadful here, 
 Whirl'd by the eddying blast from misery there 
 To misery here, and back again to joy: 
 Her boisterous winds are changed; may she remain 
 In this repose: enough of ills are past: 
 After the storm soft breathes a favouring gale. 
 LEADER From this example, mid the greatest ills 
 Never let mortal man abandon hope. 
 ION O thou, that hast to thousands wrought a change 
 Of state ere this, involving them in ills, 
 And raising them to happiness again; 
 Fortune, to what a point have I been carried, 
 Ready to kill my mother, horrid thought! 
 But in the sun's bright course each day affords 
 Instruction. Thee, my mother, have I found, 
 In that discovery bless'd; nor hath my birth 
 Aught I can blame: yet one thing would I say 
 To thee alone:-walk this way: to thine ear 
 In secret would I whisper this, and throw 
 The veil of darkness o'er each circumstance. 
 Take heed, my mother, lest thy maiden fault 
 Seeks in these secret nuptials to conceal 
 Its fault, then charges on the god the deed; 
 And, fearing my reproach, to Phoebus gives 
 A son, to Phoebus whom thou didst not bear. 
 CREUSA By her, who 'gainst the giants in her car 
 Fought by the side of Jove, victorious Pallas, 
 No one of mortal race is father to thee, 
 But he who brought thee up, the royal Phoebus. 
 ION Why give his son then to another father? 
 Why say that I was born the son of Xuthus? 
 CREUSA Not born the son of Xuthus; but he gives thee, 
 Born from himself as friend to friend may give 
 His son, and heir adopted to his house. 
 ION True is the god, his tripod else were vain. 
 Not without cause then is my mind perplex'd. 
 CREUSA Hear what my thoughts suggest: to work thee good
 Apollo placed thee in a noble house. 
 Acknowledged his, the rich inheritance 
 Could not be thine, nor could a father's name; 
 For I conceal'd my nuptials, and had plann'd 
 To kill thee secretly: for this the god 
 In kindness gives thee to another father. 
 ION My mind is prompt to entertain such thoughts; 
 But, entering at his shrine will I inquire 
 If from a mortal father I am sprung, 
 Or from Apollo.-Ha! what may this be? 
 What god above the hallow'd dome unveils 
 His radiant face that shines another sun? 
 Haste, let us fly: the presence of the gods 
 'Tis not for mortals to behold, and live.  (MINERVA appears from above.)
 MINERVA Fly not; in me no enemy you fly; 
 At Athens friendly to you, and no less 
 Here. From that land I come, so named from me, 
 By Phoebus sent with speed: unmeet he deems it 
 To show himself before you, lest with blame 
 The past be mention'd; this he gave in charge, 
 To tell thee that she bore thee, and to him, 
 Phoebus thy father; he to whom he gave thee, 
 Not as to the author of thy being gives thee, 
 But to the inheritance of a noble house. 
 This declaration made, lest thou shouldst die, 
 Kill'd by thy mother's wily trains, or she 
 By thee, these means to save you he devised. 
 These things in silence long conceal'd, at Athens 
 The royal Phoebus would have made it known 
 That thou art sprung from her, thy father he: 
 But to discharge my office, and unfold 
 The oracle of the god, for which you yoked 
 Your chariots, hear: Creusa, take thy son, 
 Go to the land of Cecrops: let him mount 
 The royal throne; for, from Erechtheus sprung, 
 That honour is his due, the sovereignty 
 Over my country: through the states of Greece 
 Wide his renown shall spread; for from his root 
 Four sons shall spring, that to the land, the tribes, 
 The dwellers on my rock, shall give their names. 
 Geleon the first, Hopletes, Argades, 
 And from my aegis named Aegicores: 
 Their sons in fate's appointed time shall fix 
 Their seats along the coast, or in the isles 
 Girt by the Aegean sea, and to my land 
 Give strength; extending thence the opposite plains 
 Of either continent shall make their own, 
 Europe and Asia, and shall boast their name 
 Ionians, from the honour'd Ion call'd. 
 To thee by Xuthus shall a son be born, 
 Dorus, from whom the Dorian state shall rise 
 To high renown; in the Pelopian land, 
 Another near the Rhian cliffs, along 
 The sea-wash'd coast, his potent monarchy 
 Shall stretch, Achaeus; and his subject realms 
 Shall glory in their chief's illustrious name. 
 Well hath Apollo quitted him in all: 
 First, without pain he caused thee bear a son. 
 That from thy friends thou mightst conceal his birth; 
 After the birth, soon as his infant limbs 
 Thy hands had clothed, to Mercury he gave 
 The charge to take the babe, and in his arms 
 Convey him hither; here with tenderness 
 He nurtured him, nor suffer'd him to perish. 
 Guard now the secret that he is thy son, 
 That his opinion Xuthus may enjoy 
 Delighted: thou too hast thy blessings, lady. 
 And now, farewell: from this relief from ills 
 A prosperous fortune I to both announce. 
 ION O Pallas, daughter of all-powerful Jove! 
 Not with distrust shall we receive thy words: 
 I am convinced that Phoebus is my father, 
 My mother she, not unassured before. 
 CREUSA Hear me too, now: Phoebus I praise, before 
 Unpraised; my son he now restores, of whom 
 Till now I deem'd him heedless. Now these gates 
 Are beauteous to mine eyes; his oracles 
 Now grateful to my soul, unpleasant late. 
 With rapture on these sounding rings my hands 
 Now hang; with rapture I address the gates. 
 MINERVA This I approve, thy former wayward thoughts 
 Resign'd, with honour that thou name the god. 
 Slow are the gifts of Heaven, but found at length 
 Not void of power. 
 CREUSA My son, let us now go 
 To Athens. 
 MINERVA Go; myself will follow you. 
 CREUSA A noble guard, and friendly to the state. 
 MINERVA But seat him high on thy paternal throne. 
 CREUSA A rich possession, and I glory in him.  (MINERVA disappears.)
 CHORUS  (singing) Son of Latona and all-powerful Jove, 
 Apollo, hail! Though fortune's blackest storms 
 Rage on his house, the man whose pious soul 
 Reveres the gods, assumes a confidence, 
 And justly: for the good at length obtain 
 The meed of virtue; but the unholy wretch 
 (Such is his nature) never can be happy.