To rancor and inveterate enmity.
hermas.
Perhaps to his infatuated heart,
Designs too deep for lovers you ascribe;
Our actions oft, even in our great concerns,
Are but effects which from our passions spring.
Their power tyrannic, we in vain disguise,
The weak is oft a politician deemed;
Cassander’s not the first king who has stooped
To love a slave, and raise her to his bed.
Heroes have often, by their flames subdued,
Yielded to women, whilst they monarchs braved.
antigones.
What you have said is just, you reason right,
But all I see, suspicion has confirmed.
Shall I avow the truth? Olympia’s charms
Have jealousy excited in my soul:
My secret sentiments too plain you see.
Perhaps love mingles with these great concerns.
More than I thought, their marriage grieves my soul.
Cassander’s not the only man that’s weak.
hermas.
But he relied upon you. Can then kings
Never be to the laws of friendship true?
Nor your alliance, nor your fellowship
In arms, the dangers which you both have shared,
Nor oaths redoubled, nor united cares,
Can save you from the woes that discord brings.
Is then true friendship banished from the earth?
antigones.
I know to friendship Greece has temples raised,
To interest none, though interest’s there adored.
At once with love and with ambition blind
Cassander hides from me Olympia’s birth.
Cassander views me with a jealous eye:
He’s in the right; perhaps this very day
The object of his wishes will be mine.
[The initiated, the priests and the priestesses pass over the stage in procession, with garlands of flowers in their hands.]
hermas.
He has received her hand, the sacred shrine
Already sees their nuptial pomp prepared:
The initiated, followed by the priests,
With garlands in their hands, attend in crowds,
Over the rites love’s sacred power presides.
antigones.
His conquest may be ravished from him soon:
I shall on your fidelity rely.
Gods, laws, and people, will for me declare.
Let us a moment fly these odious pomps,
And take the measures my designs require;
Let us pollute this sanctuary o’er,
Not with the blood of bulls, but human gore.
End of the first Act.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The three doors of the temple are opened. Though this scene and many others, are supposed to pass in the innermost part of the temple, as theatres are not built in a manner favorable to the voice, the performers are obliged to advance forward towards the porch, but the three doors of the temple are open, to show that they are supposed to be in the temple.
the hierophants, the priests, and the priestesses.
the hierophants.
What in these sacred days, this shrine august,
When God consoles the just, and sins forgives,
Shall one of all the priestesses presume
To interrupt the rites, and disobey?
Must Arzane from duty be exempt?
one of the priestesses.
Arzane bent on silence in retreat,
Bathes with her tears the statues of the gods;
She hides herself, my lord, from every eye;
A prey to grief, and weakened by her woes,
And wishes death may end her misery.
the hierophants.
Her woes we pity, but she must obey;
Let her a moment at the rites attend.
Since she has lain concealed in her retreat,
First on this day her presence is required.
Bid her approach, the sacred will of heaven
[The inferior priestess goes in quest of Arzane.]
Calls to the altar, and won’t brook delay.
Adorned by her with wreaths of gayest flowers,
Olympia must before the gods be led.
Initiated in our sacred rites,
Cassander must be purified by her;
Our mysteries soon must be complete, and all
The orders of the gods must be obeyed;
They never vary, are forever fixed,
Nor like the changeful laws of humankind.
SCENE II.
the hierophants, the priests and priestesses, statira.
the hierophants.
[To Statira.
You must not duty’s sacred call neglect,
Nor your most holy ministry decline.
Since in this blest asylum first you made
The vow, which never more can be recalled;
Upon this day first by the gods you’re chosen
Their laws to Asia’s victors to declare.
Be worthy of the god you represent.
statira.
[Covered with a veil which does not conceal her features.]
Oh heavens, why after fifteen years that here,
Within deep solitudes and silent walls,
Remote from mankind, fate has buried me;
Why do you force me from obscurity?
Why do you bring me to the light and woe?
[To the Hierophants.
My lord, when to this temple I repaired,
’Twas but to weep, and die in secret here.
You know that was my purpose—
the hierophants.
—Other laws
The will of heaven prescribes you on this day,