VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Вольтер
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Yon bloody squadron; look, it is dispersed;

       They fly.

      narbas.

       Perhaps to serve the tyrant’s cause.

      euricles.

       Far as my eyes can reach I see them still

       Engaged in fight.

      narbas.

       Whose blood will there be shed?

       Surely I heard the name of Mérope,

       And of Ægisthus.

      euricles.

       Thanks to heaven, the ways

       Are open, I will hence, and know my fate.

       [He goes out.

      narbas.

       I’ll follow thee, but not with equal steps,

       For I am old and feeble: O ye gods!

       Restore my strength, give to this nerveless arm

       Its former vigor; let me save my king,

       Or yield up the poor remnant of my days,

       And die in his defence.

      SCENE VI.

       Table of Contents

      narbas, ismenia.

      [A crowd of people.

      narbas.

       Who’s there? Ismenia?

       Bloody and pale! O horrid spectacle!

       Art thou indeed Ismenia?

      ismenia.

       O my voice,

       My breath is lost; let me recover them,

       And I will tell thee all.

      narbas.

       My son—

       The queen—do they yet live?

      ismenia.

       I’m scarce myself;

       Half dead with fear; the crowd has borne me hither.

      narbas.

       How does Ægisthus?

      ismenia.

       O he is indeed

       The son of gods; a stroke so terrible,

       So noble! never did the unconquered courage

       Of great Alcides with a deed so bold

       Astonish mortals.

      narbas.

       O my son, my king,

       The work of my own hands, the gallant hero!

      ismenia.

       Crowned with fresh flowers the victim was prepared,

       And Hymen’s torches round the altar blazed,

       When Poliphontes, wrapped in gloomy silence,

       Stretched forth his eager hand; the priest pronounced

       The solemn words; amidst her weeping maids

       Stood fixed in grief the wretched Mérope;

       Slow she advanced, and trembling in these arms,

       Instead of Hymen, called on death; the people

       Were silent all; when from the holy threshold,

       A more than mortal form, a youthful hero

       Stepped forth, and sudden darted to the altar;

       It was Ægisthus; there undaunted seized

       The axe that for the holy festival

       Had been prepared; then with the lightning’s speed

       He ran, and felled the tyrant; “Die,” he cried,

       “Usurper, die; now take your victim, gods.”

       Erox, the monster’s vile accomplice, saw

       His master weltering in his blood, upraised

       His hand for vengeance; but Ægisthus smote

       The slave, and laid him at the tyrant’s feet:

       Meantime, recovered, Poliphontes rose

       And fought; I saw Ægisthus wounded; saw

       The fierce encounter: the guards ran to part them;

       When Mérope, such power has mighty love,

       Pierced through opposing multitudes, and cried,

       “Stop, ye inhuman murderers, ’tis my son,

       ’Tis my Ægisthus, turn your rage on me,

       And plant your daggers in the breast of her

       Who bore him, of his mother, and your queen:”

       Her shrieks alarmed the crowd, and a firm band

       Of faithful friends secured her from the rage

       Of the rude soldiers; then might you behold

       The broken altars, and the sacred ruins:

       On every side, confusion, war, and slaughter

       Triumphant reigned; brothers on brothers rose,

       Children were butchered in their mothers’ arms,

       Friends murdered friends, the dying and the dead

       Together lay, and o’er their bodies trampled

       The flying crowd; with groans the temple rung.

       Amidst the uproar of contending legions

       I lost Ægisthus and the queen, and fled:

       In vain I asked each passing stranger whither

       They bent their way; their answers but increased

       My terrors; still they cry, he falls, he’s dead,

       He conquers; all is darkness and confusion:

       I ran, I flew, and by the timely aid

       Of these kind friends have reached this place of safety:

       But still I know not whether yet the queen

       And great Ægisthus are preserved; my heart

       Is full of terrors.

      narbas.

       Thou great arbiter

       Of all that’s mortal, providence divine,

       Complete thy glorious work, protect the good,

       Support the innocent, reward the wretched,

       Preserve my son, and I shall die in peace!

       Ha! midst you crowd do I behold the queen?

      SCENE VII.

       Table of Contents

      mérope, ismenia, narbas, People, Soldiers.

      At the farther part of the stage is exposed the corpse of Poliphontes, covered with a bloody robe.

      mérope.

       Priests, warriors, friends, my fellow-citizens,

       Attend, and hear me in the name of heaven.

       Once more I swear, Ægisthus is your king,

       The scourge of guilt, the avenger of his father,

       And yonder bleeding corpse, a hated monster,

       The foe of gods and men, who slew my husband,

       My dear Cresphontes, and his helpless children,